Cultivating Respect in Facilitation

Through attending decades of Vermont Town Meetings, I learned that effective facilitation requires respect.

For over two hundred years, my little hometown of Marlboro, Vermont, met at least once a year for “town meeting”: a form of local government where every eligible resident can directly participate in town governance.  At our main annual town meeting, we discussed and voted on published agendas that included the town and school budgets and many other articles. Debate, facilitated by a town moderator, was common, people made amendments and voted on them, and the meetings (one for the town and one for the school) could last most of the day.

Photograph of people filling the Marlboro (Vermont) Town House for the 2012 Town Meeting. Photograph by Zachary P. Stephens/Reformer
People filling the Marlboro (Vermont) Town House for the 2012 Town Meeting. Photograph by Zachary P. Stephens/Reformer

In my experience, though people in the room had different points of view, town meetings worked as well as they did because our town moderator respected everyone present and, for the most part, town residents respected each other. We remembered that the folks around us were our neighbors. They were people who, if we needed help, would be there for us despite our disagreements about politics and other issues. Sometimes votes wouldn’t go how we liked, yet we shrugged and moved on.

We could listen and make (sometimes) painful decisions because our moderator modeled respect and we respected each other despite our differences.

Facilitation and respect

Effective facilitation requires respect. An image of two women facilitating a group of participants standing in a well-lit meeting room.

So, how can we cultivate respect in facilitation?

As a facilitator, I sometimes struggle to keep my opinions of the sayer and what’s said and the sayer to myself. It can be hard to shut up and listen when facilitating, and I’m occasionally tempted to offer unsolicited advice.

However, I’ve learned that listening is a gift you can’t fully give when you don’t respect the person you’re listening to. Effective facilitation is inherently rooted in showing respect to each individual involved. A facilitator needs to respect diverse perspectives and honor the contributions of each participant. This involves active listening—truly tuning in to what others are saying without judgment or interruption.

Respectful facilitation also involves fostering inclusivity and fairness. It means ensuring everyone has an equal opportunity to speak and participate, regardless of status or background.

In essence, effective facilitation is a delicate dance between structure and empathy, where respect serves as a guiding principle. When participants feel respected, they are more likely to engage authentically, share ideas openly, and collaborate productively.

A perspective from meditation practice

Meditation practice can teach us how to cultivate mindful respect. Recently, one of my meditation teachers, Helen Narayan Liebenson, has been speaking about respect from a Buddhist perspective.

One concept she shared is “loosening judgment”. We continually interpret our sensed experience. When this involves listening to others, we may judge them or what they say. Some form of judgment is, perhaps, inescapable, but when we notice it we can practice loosening judgment: moving away from judgment and towards direct experience of another.

She also described performing an “inner bow“. This is a way of honoring either another or oneself, a conscious intention derived from an external act of respect: the act of bowing to another.

Ultimately, such language only points to the action to convey. Listening, loosening judgment, or performing an inner bow are ways to treat others with respect. All of these actions are intertwined and reinforce each other in the process.

Postscript

Marlboro abandoned traditional town meetings at the start of the COVID pandemic in 2020. My town has not readopted them, though many Vermont towns still practice this form of local government. We’ve switched to voting on articles via Australian ballot so there are no more large spring gatherings, debates, or amendments. I appreciate that our new form of government allows all eligible residents to vote, rather than only those who attend an in-person meeting. But I miss meeting with townsfolk and discussing our town’s direction and future together.

No matter our differences, I hope we continue to respect our neighbors, in the same way effective facilitators respect those with whom we work.

Photograph attribution: People filling the Marlboro (Vermont) Town House for the 2012 Town Meeting by Zachary P. Stephens/Reformer.

Facilitation listening as meditation

Most weekdays, my wife and I join a fifteen-minute online meditation offered by teachers at the Insight Meditation Society. The other day, teacher Matthew Hepburn introduced a dharma practice of meditating, not on one’s breath or body sensations, but on another person. As Matthew talked, I realized that I experience good facilitation listening as a meditation.

Matthew Hepburn, sharing about listening as meditation
Matthew Hepburn

When I’m listening well, I’m practicing a form of meditation where I focus my awareness on the person who is speaking. Not just what they are saying but the totality of their being in the moment.

I believe that being truly heard and seen at meetings is a gift, because someone to tell it to is one of the fundamental needs of human beings.

Giving the gift of listening is hard work—until it isn’t. Sometimes, facilitative listening is simple because it’s all that’s going on. The speaker has my full attention. That’s it.

Distractions

At other times, unfortunately, I’m feeling hungry, wondering if we’re on schedule, noticing that the carpet is ugly, etc. A myriad of possible distractions seduce me from full attention, and I succumb to them over and over again.

This is just like meditation.

In doing either, there are moments when you’re just here, and then all the moments when your attention wanders. Facilitators and meditators do the same thing: we notice that our attention has wandered and then bring it back to the object of attention. Over and over again.

Practice

Of course, facilitators don’t have the luxury of devoting their entire allotted time to meditative listening. We have other responsibilities: bringing sharing to a close, breaking on time for lunch, and framing the next segment of our work, to name just a few. Preparing for these transitions requires us to leave listening as a meditation.

But when we’re listening to people, treating such time as a meditation with the speaker as the sole object of our attention is a great practice to practice.

If you’re a facilitator, do you experience facilitative listening as a meditation? Feel free to share your experiences in the comments below.

Someone to tell it to is one of the fundamental needs of human beings

Someone to tell it to. A photograph of two young girls looking at and listening to each other. One has her arm around the other's shoulders.

“Someone to tell it to is one of the fundamental needs of human beings.”
—Miles Franklin, Childhood At Brindabella: My First Ten Years, 1954

Miles Franklin, the Australian writer and feminist best known for her novel My Brilliant Career, wrote the above words in her autobiography. Like Miles, I believe that all people want and need opportunities to share how they’re thinking and feeling.

Meetings of every kind offer these opportunities. When I walk into our tiny town rural post office, I sometimes see folks for whom a conversation about almost anything with the sole postal worker is clearly important. Perhaps that customer will have little or no other human contact that day. What is talked about is far less important than the act of telling.

Personal meetings like these, whether brief or extended, between good friends or strangers, are fundamental. Many of us are lucky enough to have “someone to tell it to”, though some do not.

Someone to tell it to at conferences

Conferences, whether in-person or online, are also potential arenas for conversations. They are places for participants — who have something in common with each other — to find someone to tell it to. Even if the teller believes that they weren’t fully heard, the act of telling is valuable. (Otherwise, people wouldn’t journal and practice self-affirmations.)

But some conferences offer better opportunities than others. Traditional events relegate conversations to the hallways, to breaks and socials. No conversations occur during lectures. Even post-presentation Q&As rarely evolve into a conversation, which is always between the presenter and a succession of audience members.

Given the fundamental human need to tell, meeting stakeholders owe it to participants to create opportunities and environments for rich conversations in the sessions, rather than just the gaps between them. I have been doing this for 33 years, and it’s clear that meeting designs that integrate meaningful conversations into sessions have a transformational effect on almost all participants. (Read any of my books to learn specific techniques and designs that create meaningful and valuable conversations during meeting sessions.)

In 2006, Cory Doctorow wrote: “Conversation is king. Content is just something to talk about.” Content is everywhere, but conversations require tellers and listeners. While telling something to ourselves is better than nothing, it doesn’t compare to telling it to and being heard by another human.

Let’s give attendees the priceless gift of someone to tell it to at our events.

Children listening to each other image (cropped) by J. Verkuilen, licensed under (CC BY 2.0)

Can you hear me now?

hear me! Photograph taken from above of a conversing crowd. An ignored facilitator stands in the center. Image attribution: "2010 IACA Conference - evening reception at the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum" by Corvair Owner is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. and modified with additional graphics.I do not have a magnetic personality. I would never have been cast as the lead in the classic ad series When E.F. Hutton talks, people listen. Yes, I’m a recovering academic, so I love to talk. But that doesn’t mean that people always hear me.

And that can occasionally be a problem when I’m facilitating group work.

Ultimately, as we’ll see, it’s a good problem to have. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a problem.

Facilitating group work is ultimately about guiding and supporting a group doing its work, both as individuals and collectively. It’s not about my work. And I’m okay with that because I am the second sort of escapologist and I know it’s not about me.

So, unlike a speaker or presenter, I am comfortable being the center of inattention most of the time.

But, obviously, people need to listen to me sometimes, so I can facilitate them doing their work. And, there are certain situations when they have a hard time listening to me.

If you facilitate group work, you probably know what I’m talking about. Effective group work includes periods when group members are working with each other, not you. And when they’re having these conversations, they are not listening to you. They are (well, hopefully) listening to each other.

Which means that getting their attention is difficult.

Can you hear me now?

Last week, I was reminded how difficult it is to get a group’s attention. I was the guest at Professor Dan Cormany‘s Convention Management class at Florida International University. I have a standing invitation for event and hospitality teachers to meet online with their classes for free. Dan has taken me up on this several times. I love spending time with such students—the future of the meeting industry—and finding out what’s on their minds.

On this occasion, we used a setup I’d never experienced before. Dan and the students were together in person, and they decided to display me on a front-of-room screen but also run a simultaneous Zoom meeting so I could see the students individually and talk with them one-on-one.

(Production pros will recognize this arrangement is susceptible to audio feedback problems, which did indeed hold up the class a bit. To minimize them, have participants use headsets when possible. Otherwise, turn off individual computer speakers and all mikes except for the one in-person participant currently talking.)

I began the class with a quick pair share between students, giving each pair a couple of minutes to share with each other why they were taking the class.

At this point, I completely lost everyone’s attention.

The ignored facilitator

Two minutes went by, and I asked the students to stop sharing so we could move on to the main segment of the class, where I answered any questions they wanted to ask me.

Nothing happened. The students kept on talking. They were enjoying learning about each other and they didn’t want to stop.

I asked again. Several times. I increased my speaking volume, but it was as if I had been banished from the meeting. I was 1,600 miles away, the students weren’t listening to me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dan to the rescue!

Thankfully, Dan noticed that I was being ignored. He was in the room, and his students are used to listening to him. After a couple of announcements, the students’ conversational hubbub diminished, and I was back in contact with the class.

The rest of the class went well. I closed with another pair share for students to share their takeaways with each other. However, before this one started I made sure to ask Dan to bring it to a close!

Hear me! Getting a group’s attention

Even when I’m present in the room, the same scenario often happens! Yes, there are people who can usually get the attention of an energetically conversing crowd. But I often find it hard. Knowing this, I’ll sometimes find someone in the group who has this gift, and ask them to get the group’s attention for me when needed. Alternatively, you can pick a leader who’s known to the group, like Dan was, for this role.

There are many methods that teachers and trainers use to get attention. To learn more about them, see Chapter 22 of my book, The Power of Participation.

Although the difficulty of getting a group’s attention is a problem that facilitators face regularly, in the big picture it’s a good thing.

Why? Because, when a competent facilitator has trouble getting attention, it means that participants are actively working with each other. Have you ever left a meeting session full of excitement and ideas for future work, perhaps having made important new connections in the process? (Or have you hung around afterward, continuing conversations?) When this happens, the facilitator has done their job well.

So if you’re facilitating, and sometimes find it difficult to bring group members reluctantly back from engagement, don’t fret. Remember that your pain is their gain.

Image attribution: “2010 IACA Conference – evening reception at the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum” by Corvair Owner is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. and modified with additional graphics.

The four meeting professionals you meet in heaven

essential characteristics meeting professionals

The essential characteristics of meeting professionals

If there is a heaven on earth in the event industry, there are four essential characteristics of successful meeting professionals you’ll meet there.

These four characteristics are essential because event professionals who possess and embrace them have what’s needed to thrive in our industry. And, perhaps even more important, they will love what they do.

Attention to detail

essential characteristics meeting professionals
Every successful meeting involves thinking about, planning for, and executing countless details. You can create the most original, beautiful event in the world, but if there’s no coffee available on the first morning, attendees are going to complain and remember. Late buses, missing or confusing signage, poor quality A/V, and a thousand other annoyances will mar an otherwise superb event.

Details matter.

So, good meeting professionals obsess about details. Obviously, we make big detailed lists of things that are supposed to happen. But we also think about details of things that could happen. We even think about circumstances that are very unlikely—but they have happened before, so we keep them in mind. We plan for planned and unexpected eventualities.

Good event professionals are seldom late, because they hate to be late. Our lives are sometimes crazy, but we mostly have things together. (Even when they’re not, we have plans on how we’re going to get back on track.) The one career my parents tentatively suggested to me I might want to consider was…wait for it…accountancy. Because they could see I was a detail person.

We are detail people. Paying attention to details is vital to creating and executing successful events. It’s an essential characteristic for meeting professionals. But attention to detail is not enough…

Creativity when things don’t go according to plan

essential characteristics meeting professionals
Any experienced meeting professional will tell you that the chances that everything will go according to plan A — what was supposed to happen — for an event is minuscule.

That’s why good event professionals have plans B, C, D… that cover the things that they know from experience might go wrong.

Many times, when things don’t go according to plan A, a backup plan is put into place, and the event goes on smoothly (at least as far as the participants are concerned).

And then there are the times when something completely unexpected happens. The wrong winner for Best Picture gets announced at the Oscars. A hurricane prevents the timely delivery of your beautiful signage. A Thanksgiving Day Parade giant Barney balloon explodes.

A pandemic.

However much we plan, experienced event professionals know that completely unexpected “stuff” will happen.

And that’s why good event professionals need to be creative when things don’t go according to (any) plan.

It’s not a coincidence that a surprising number of folks in the meeting industry have a theatrical background. Live theater, whether you’re on or behind the stage, provides a nightly opportunity for things to go wrong; things that need to be fixed or smoothed over right now. The show must go on.

I am rarely responsible for the logistics of the meetings I design or facilitate. And I have been awed and impressed by the creative solutions devised by the poor souls who are responsible in the moment for fixing something out of kilter. I surprised myself with the creative approaches that popped into my head when a session I was facilitating went wonky. But the brilliant ways I’ve seen event professionals respond when faced with the unexpected — well, I’m glad it wasn’t me in charge.

Attention to detail and the creative ability to solve unexpected problems get you a long way toward being a great event professional. But there’s more…

Great communication skills


I’m indebted to the late veteran event professional Dan Cormany for adding “great communication skills” to this set. He was kind enough to tell me I possessed this quality when I spoke to a class he was teaching at the Florida International University’s Chaplin School of Hospitality & Tourism Management. He also said he thought it was essential for good meeting professionals.

I agree.

To have great communication skills, you need to be able to listen well and have empathy for the people you’re with. You have to pick up on the verbal and non-verbal clues they provide about how your conversation is going. And you need to be able to respond appropriately, in ways they can hear you. People have written books about how to do this. It’s a difficult skill, but one that can always be improved with practice.

And it’s a great skill that will positively impact every aspect of your life.

I’m still working on it.

We’re almost there, but there’s one more characteristic that is, in my opinion, the most important of all…

Love being with people


If you don’t love being with people, all sorts of people, it’s going to be hard to be a great event professional.

Yes, everyone is flawed. We all have personality aspects that are sometimes hard for others to deal with. And there are people around whom it’s best to avoid if you have a choice.

Although many meeting professionals are extroverts who get energy from interacting with others, there are many who need introvert-style downtime in their lives (including, during meetings). Regardless, both extroverts and introverts can love being with people.

Our industry, by definition, is people-centric. People can be amazing, frustrating, fascinating, challenging, delightful, and, once in a while, frightful. Good event professionals are capable of finding and connecting with the positive aspects of even the most difficult folks they meet. And, yes, loving them as people, even in the midst of turmoil.

I try to do this.

I don’t always succeed, but, nevertheless, my heart is there. And I know many great meeting professionals who strive to wear on their sleeves how they love being with people.

Yay for us!

My journey is our journey

Twenty years ago I was a successful, independent information technology consultant. If you had told me then that I’d leave that career (my fourth) to write a book about meeting design that would catapult me into the heart of the meeting industry, I’d have said you were crazy.

What has surprised me during this journey is meeting so many meeting professionals I like along the way. Those of you who are passionate and committed to this industry will know what I mean. I am like you, and I like you, because we share the fundamental joy of the experience of bringing people together in ways that work.

We don’t usually enjoy all the backbreaking preparation needed to make the meeting happen. It’s the excitement and pleasure we get from creating a great experience for people, in the moment, that makes it all worthwhile.

You folks who share this joy with me are my tribe. We are lucky to be in this heaven-on-earth community of meeting professionals.

I’m glad I know some of you and am always happy to meet more. Feel free to reach out to me if you feel the same way.

Do you agree with this set of qualities? Are there other essential characteristics of meeting professionals you’d like to add? Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Struggling to meditate daily

meditate daily: A sepia photograph of a back of a person wearing a black shirt and sitting cross-legged in a field, surrounded by trees. Photo attribution: Flickr user wiertz
For three months now, I’ve meditated for twenty minutes every day.

Personally, this is a big deal, as I’ve struggled to maintain a regular meditation practice for decades. I’ve resolved countless times to meditate daily, and fallen off the mindfulness wagon over and over again.

Three years ago, I began attending silent meditation retreats and continue to do so a couple of times a year. These experiences are important and transformational. Each retreat deepened my resolve to start a daily meditation practice. But, despite this increased desire, I was unable to do so.

Until now.

Excuses
Why has it been so hard for me to maintain a daily meditation practice?

One excuse is that my daily schedule is not regular. When I’m home, there is at least the potential to set aside a regular time to meditate. But I travel a lot. I’m just back from a four-week trip that spanned nine time zones, from Italy to the Caribbean, to Las Vegas. I average about two engagements per month that require travel. I might be up at 5 am to catch a flight, arrive late at a destination, and be intensely involved on-site for two or three days. There’s no regular “free” time in my life.

However, my travel for work and pleasure that creates an erratic daily schedule is a choice that I made. It makes it harder but not impossible for me to create a meditation habit.

Another excuse is related to my biorhythms. Over the years I’ve found I do my best creative work in the morning. Meditating early feels like it’s delaying starting my day. At night, my energy level sags and it’s difficult for me to maintain mindful habits. I’m tempted to relax over a drink and a nice dinner.

Finally, my experience of the benefits of regular meditation from retreats quickly fades. I remember that I felt inspired to meditate regularly, but I don’t experience the inspiration. And I lapse…

How have I changed my meditation habit?
I’m sorry. If you’re hoping to learn the secret simple trick that allowed me to finally sustain a daily meditation practice, I’m about to disappoint you.

As I’ve shared previously, the hard work we do that precipitates personal change is largely unconscious.

But here are some clues that might help you.

—At the Vipassana retreats I attend, sitting and walking meditation sessions last for 45 minutes, and there are many such sessions every day. I set myself a far more modest daily goal of a single twenty-minute session. More sessions or a longer time are great but completely optional.

—While meditating with a simple timer, I noticed that my mind started wondering about how much time was left towards the end of the twenty minutes. (Somewhat pathetic, but that’s what I noticed.) So I switched to a free meditation app, InsightTimer, which can be configured to play multiple sounds during meditation. Adding a momentary wood block “click” halfway through tells my thinking mind that there are ten minutes to go, which helps quiet it. This sounds silly, but it’s helpful for me.

—Finally, while vacationing for two weeks in Anguilla last month, I broke through my self-limiting belief that an early morning meditation session would reduce my creative morning time. For the last few years, I’ve started my day there with a (now) forty-minute walk, down to Island Harbor and back. This year I sat on a bench at Falcon Nest and meditated for twenty minutes before returning.

(Here’s the panorama I saw one morning when I opened my eyes. Four island dogs in a neat but respectful oval around me.)

Since then, I’ve been willing and able to meditate for twenty minutes within the first hour I’m up.

What I have noticed since beginning to meditate regularly for the first time in my life
—I have more equanimity in my life. For example, after I rose early for a flight from Boston to Las Vegas last week, it was delayed for four hours due to the weather. I was surprised and pleased at how serene I stayed about this, compared to the persistent annoyance I would have felt in the past. There was plenty of time to meditate at the airport!

—Having said that, I am noticing how easily certain events bend me out of shape. My phone says the Wi-Fi password I’ve entered is incorrect, though I know it isn’t. My new MacBook keyboard switches unexpectedly into ALL CAPS. I fumble several times picking up a heavy piece of wood for the stove.

I’m not doing much better dealing with these surges of irritation, but noticing them is the first and necessary step to change.

—I’m getting better at listening to people. Less likely to jump in with a response before they’ve fully shared. (Yes folks who know me well; there is still plenty of room for improvement. Sigh.)

Celebration!
I am happy that I’ve made this change that has eluded me for so long. Perhaps I will increase my modest meditation time in the future. Regardless, I like the effect on my life daily meditation makes, and this is evidence that I am still able to change my behavior through work and grace.

Photo attribution: Flickr user wiertz

Being truly heard and seen at meetings

heard and seen: a photograph of human eyes looking into the camera. Image attribution: Flickr user paris_corruptedWhen we enable people to meaningfully connect at a meeting, something extraordinary happens. We transform a conference from an impersonal forum for information exchange to a place where people feel they matter: their views, their experience, and their ability to contribute become seen.

Such a transformation is the essential work that we need in order to build a human community around the event. It becomes something special, standing out like a beacon from the humdrum conferences routinely inflicted on attendees.

The meeting feels different, is different, because it allows participants to be truly heard and seen. Because having people listen to us is a gift. And, as Seth Godin puts it:

“We like to see. But mostly, we’re worried about being seenthe culture of celebrity that came with TV has shifted. It’s no longer about hoping for a glimpse of a star. It’s back to the source–hoping for a glimpse of ourselves, ourselves being seen.”
—Seth Godin, Mirror, mirror

It takes a few minutes at the start of a gathering to create agreements that help make it a safe place for participants to:

  • speak their minds;
  • ask appropriate questions; and
  • share possibly intimate yet important information about their work and lives that inform the entire event.

Immediately, the conference is subtly different, full of new possibilities, some of which might have been considered risky or even taboo. Everyone in the room begins to learn about each other in ways that matter. Everyone begins to discover how they can become a part of the gathering, how they can contribute, and how they can learn about issues and challenges that personally matter.

Make it easy for participants to be safely and truly heard and seen. Your conferences will be all the better for it.

Image attribution: Flickr user paris_corrupted

Listening to the UPS guy

A photograph of a UPS truck going down my driveway, driven by the UPS guyAfter dinner last night I heard a familiar sound — the growl of the UPS box truck driving up our 600′ rural driveway. I knew it was our regular UPS guy, the guy who’s been delivering for years, because if he sees I’m in my home office he’ll stop and do a tight three-point turn outside the entrance, rather than driving past to reverse by the garage.

I heard the van door slide back and went to the door to meet the guy I’ll call Roger. Roger is tall and lanky, has a sweet smile and disposition, and is open to talk if the time is right. Over the years he’s met me hundreds of times in that doorway. Mostly, he smiles and hands over the delivery, I thank him and wish him a good night, and he jumps into his truck, finishes reversing, and drives away. Once in a while, when the roads are bad, we talk about his day: how he’s handled the challenges of delivering along my rural town’s sixty miles of dirt roads plus the surrounding area.

For some reason I hadn’t seen Roger for a few weeks; the other drivers had been making deliveries. So I said, “Hey, you’re back!” as he strolled towards me, package in hand.

“Well, I’ve been off a lot; my mother just passed away,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. I stood and looked at him.

“Well,” he said…

…and he started to tell his story

Roger talked about his mom. He stood facing sideways from me, with an occasional glance in my direction prompted by my occasional responses to what he was saying. Once in a while, he’d swivel to face me, sharing something that was especially important. Then he went back to telling me about his frequent journeys down south to see her since she’d fallen and broke multiple bones in June, how his family had done their best to cope, and her eventual decline and death.

He told me about dealing with “picking up the pieces” now she was gone. The last time he saw her in the hospital, when she was “all scrunched up” and seemed out of it until he bent down and hugged her and told her “I love you Mom” and she opened one eye and said “I love you too” “as clear as anything” and then closed her eye and “was out of it again”. He told me much more than I’ll share here.

Roger talked for over ten minutes, by far the longest conversation we’ve ever had. Now and again he edged away during our time together. But he couldn’t quite get himself to stop what he wanted or needed to say.

And that was fine with me. I was in no hurry, and he wanted to talk.

At the end, I wished him well and he turned, got into his van, and motored off down my driveway.

It felt good to listen to the UPS guy.

Shut up and listen — part 2

Sometimes, I just need to shut up and listen. An illustration of a close-up of a woman's mouth with a finger held to her lips. She is saying "Shut up and listen!"When I close peer conferences with a Group Spective, there’s always a moment that is hard for me. It occurs during the Plus/Delta when people are sharing what they’d like to change in the event they’ve just experienced. Participants offer many suggestions, perspectives, and ideas that make the organization’s future activities and events better, and their sharing frequently helps me improve my own work.

And then someone, let’s call them John, comes up to the microphone and says something like this:

“Well, at the beginning of this conference we spent a lot of time choosing the sessions. I think it would be much better if we just asked everyone what they wanted to talk about before the conference. Then we could start the program right away and have more time for the sessions!”

I know John’s intentions are good. I know he’s genuinely trying to help to make the conference better.

Regardless, at this point, a voice inside me is saying:

“Aargh, not again! Do you think no one has ever suggested this before? If I’d found a way during the thirty years I’ve spent designing and facilitating events to create better conference programs by asking people what they wanted in advance, don’t you think I would be using it?

The reason we spent precious time at the start of this event learning about our wants and needs and experience and expertise and then co-creating a conference program optimized from what we discover is that I’ve found that taking this time creates a much better conference than one where the program is somehow determined in advance!”

And so on. I feel sad and misunderstood and disconnected listening to John who doesn’t get the essence of what I’ve spent years creating and fine-tuning, to whom I’ve failed to convey something that I believe is valuable and important.

I feel frustrated in much the same way as when I meet people who insist that the world is really less than ten thousand years old, are sure vaccines cause autism, or believe there’s a scientific conspiracy to falsely declare that recent human activities cause climate warming.

Regardless, I need to shut up and listen.

What happens if I don’t shut up and listen

On one occasion I couldn’t stop myself from responding to a participant who said that the initial roundtable and peer session sign-up we had used was a waste of time. I said that in my experience, it created a better conference. The participant, a state legislator, looked at me and said, “This is a time for me to share my opinions, not for you to share yours.”

And he was right.

Yes, it’s hard at moments like this for me to keep my mouth shut.

But it’s important that I do. My job is to facilitate the process that’s going on, not offer my own opinions.

The silver lining

In the end, it turns out that I don’t actually need to say anything. Invariably, other participants respond to John. They’ll come up to the microphone and say things like:

“Actually, John, I disagree, I liked what we did! Yes, it took a bit longer, but I:
— got to know many attendees in really helpful ways;
—made valuable connections with people who have useful expertise and experience;
—learned about interesting topics I hadn’t thought about before; and
—enjoyed some excellent sessions, many of which I suspect wouldn’t have been included in a traditional conference.”

And I feel better again.

Which teaches me something else. Though I experience my feelings in the moment as permanent and unchangeable, my feelings are transitory. This too shall pass.

Definitely something worth learning.

If I shut up and listen.

[If you missed it, here’s the first part of Shut up and listen.]