Wayfinding Connectorship
“We are given to live in a remarkable time. When the nuisance of old mythologies falls away from us, we may see with new eyes”
- Barbara Kingsolver
Springtime in the Northern Hemisphere and days autumnal here in the South. A year into the Time of Covid and our ‘new eyes’ are adjusting to the different light, gradually finding the way. Wayfinding is a beautiful word. One I’ve always been drawn to. The process of orientating ourselves in, and then navigating through unknown spaces. A word that speaks to how I feel about my journey so far with The Connectorship Project.
Last time I talked about landing on a name and some clear mission areas for this enquiry. This — and articulating my ‘3Cs’ — has made it much easier to start talking about it more comfortably, and helped others get orientated too. Locate their own experiences and questions within a graspable framework. It seems it all goes back to the words we have.
So this time I want to return to each of these words — explore what I’m learning and how it’s helping me navigate a course for the next bit. I’ll begin with Connectedness.
Connectedness
The more and more I talk about it, the surer I become about the distinction I perceive between ‘connection’ and connectedness. In many conversations these last weeks, I’ve proposed this difference I see between the simple binary of ‘connection’ — we are either not connected or connected — and the depth, richness and complexity of ‘connectedness’.
The day I published my first piece last November, was the day after my dear granny died. She was 100 years old. A remarkable woman born on the wild coast of North Wales, whose influence on my life was immense. I was not with her in her final days but far, far away, here in Aotearoa New Zealand. Knowing her last hours were nigh I walked another wild coastline, thinking of our long and deep connectedness. My whole life, our two strands of living intimately interwoven. And suddenly this intimate interweaving finally at an end.
And goodness I felt the distance. More than ever, I felt the far-ness. For all that digital connection offers, no amount of calls or Zoom or Skype or ‘virtual hugs’ can make up for human closeness. The warmth of a familiar embrace. The touch of a special hand. And I loved my granny’s hands. All I said to my brother, who sat with her in her final hours — was ‘hold her hand for me’. For me, that time was a profound lesson in what connectedness really is. What it feels like. The difference in quality between deeply and loosely connected. What joins us together is not a flimsy thing. It is depth, it is heat, it is time, it is care. Each relationship, a story between. And every story different.
It made me realise how I yearn for more words for this. This substance of ‘connection’. The different stages, layers, depths of connectedness. A recent article about friendship in The Atlantic includes the suggestion that ‘friend’ is ‘a very promiscuous word’. I wonder if ‘connection’ is the same. A catch-all for far too much. Or maybe it’s not about words, but about what we deem worthy of our precious time and attention. In the words of artist and writer Jenny Odell:
“patterns of attention — what we choose to notice and what we do not — are how we render reality for ourselves… [they] have a direct bearing on what we feel is possible.”
I keep thinking of a set of scales. With all the ‘things’ on one side, and all the ‘connective tissue’ on the other. I think we’re out of balance. Our way of thinking and doing so biased towards the ‘things’ that we’ve developed a blind spot when it comes to the relational. In consistently bringing this to the fore, perhaps The Connectorship Project can play some small role in re-balancing the scale. Hold care, love and thoughtful maintenance alongside growth and productivity as measures through which the world is remade.
Connectivity
Connectivity is proving to be the hardest of my triad of words to explore and express. And yet it sits at the heart of this enquiry. The idea that it’s meaningful and useful to assess and consider the nature of connections and connectedness across a system. I first found this perspective working with Lankelly Chase in London — an independent foundation focused on changing systems that perpetuate severe and multiple disadvantage. Three of the core assumptions that underpin their work are:
- Systems are complex and often messy webs that are constantly shifting. They consist of tangible things like people and organisations, connected by intangible things like history, worldviews, context and culture.
- Everything and everyone exists in relationships, and these involve emotions.
- Change emerges from the way the whole system behaves … We therefore need to help build the fitness of the system to generate positive change.
With this in mind, I’ve begun experimenting with tools and models that help others interrogate connectivity in the systems, groups and communities of which they are a part. And to consider too, how this might also change and develop. It’s a messy but thought-provoking process — with fascinating results. It shows me how rarely many of us ask ourselves such questions. Yes — everyone wants ‘to connect’ but often in the service of our own goals, rather than because we perceive the value of a more connected system. We like the idea of ‘connectors’ and ‘weavers’ and yet it’s rare to find this work financially resourced. And what we think we want the most is ‘more connections’, and not necessarily the more complex emotional journey of ‘more connection’.
Perhaps I see this in new light as I continue my journey into learning about te ao Māori/the Māori worldview. Theirs is a culture that is fundamentally relational. Everything, always about the layering and deepening of relationship. About profound experience and appreciation of interconnection. Whakawhanaungatanga one of the words I am most drawn to. A word that speaks to the active pursuit of nurturing of kin-ship-like relationships. An everyday way of being for Māori — yet in English something for which there is no single term.
One pillar of tangata whenua philosophy/Māori philosophies — as described by Dr Takirirangi Smith and cited in Māori Philosophy by Georgina Tuari Stewart is
“Discourses that rationalise existence through interconnectedness and identification of relationship between things that exist”
Such a pillar does not underpin more Eurocentric ideologies, which tend towards a focus on the ‘things that exist’ in and of themselves. In my te reo Māori language class I learn that even the simple sentence like ‘this is my book’ requires awareness that there is a certain quality of relationship between ‘me’ and ‘the book’. And in an Understanding Te Tiriti workshop — learning about modern New Zealand’s so-called ‘founding document’ Te Tiriti o Waitangi/The Treaty of Waitangi — the absolute difference in worldview is brought into sharp relief.
Our Western ways — then as now — founded on an ethos of separation and competition — not interconnection and mutuality. What a gulf this is. There is so much work to do.
Connectorship
And perhaps what I am calling Connectorship is a strand of that work. Finding our way back to a more interconnected worldview. A wider acknowledgement that so much lies between. Realising it is worthwhile — necessary even perhaps — to direct our attention here. Yes, connectorship is ‘connecting’. But is also convening, inviting, hosting, listening, involving. It’s an orientation towards greater ‘stickiness’, always. Some say it’s a more ‘feminine’ way of operating in a world that often revolves around more ‘masculine’ qualities. An alternative framing — that I heard about via researcher Kristin Hall — is ‘relationship oriented’ over ‘action oriented’.
Such thoughts have been front of mind as I’ve finding my way forward as part of the Edmund Hillary Fellowship. This young network of 500+ entrepreneurially minded, socially motivated and internationally experienced Fellows are united around an aspiration to create positive change centred on Aotearoa NZ. Last year, the network more than doubled in size — creating a connectorship challenge of immense proportions:
Who are ‘we’? Where are we? What are we each doing? How might we go about interweaving the immensity of our collective knowledge, insights and aspirations?
Early cohorts began their journeys in small cohorts of 30–50 people with an intensive residential programme of deep connectivity building. For the latter 65% of the network however, this has not been the case. Instead we grapple with the challenges of virtual relationship building, unsure of our ‘belonging places’ in cohorts too big to be meaningful. In my many conversations with fellow Fellows I hear a dizzying array of hopes when it comes to the connectedness and connectivity we all aspire to.
Many Fellows simply want to ‘discover’ each other — how do we see who’s here? Where is the map from which we can begin to navigate? Only natural of course in a group largely new to each other. And yet there is also an acknowledgement that the impact we collectively seek is of a transformational, systemic nature. In the words of our new Chair, Paul Atkins:
‘our impact must be greater than the sum of our parts… this goes far beyond individual endeavour’.
Which is absolutely where my curiosity lies. To what extent is this a realistic aspiration without true investment in deeper relationships? What kind of experiences and adventures must we have together so we can really act ‘in fellowship’?
It makes me think of ‘entanglement’ again. What would a truly ‘entangled’ EHF look like? So many examples from nature of the different ways species and beings become ‘entangled’, interdependent and mutually supportive. And each of them richer, and more complex than our very human creation of a ‘network map’.
I encountered the concept of a ‘social biome’ recently. The diverse eco-system of social relationship and interaction that keeps each of us emotionally and psychologically nourished. A ‘healthy’ biome is a varied biome that balances out the many types of social interaction that we each have in our lives.
How might this apply when thinking about connectivity within systems of change? What might a good mix of looser and deeper ties — or connectedness — look like? How can we assess where our needs are being served, and where we might be lacking? How might we best direct our energy to get the balance right? And what does this mean for those who are consciously seeking to weave networks and be the ‘gardeners’ for our communities?
It seems to point to the value inherent in growing our awareness of the variety of relationships that exist in any system. It’s unrealistic of course, that we should aspire to deeply connected, bonded relationships with everyone we meet. But what exactly do those deeper relationships offer us? And what effect do clusters of such relationship have on a system?
On the flip-side, what activities might foster the ‘strength of weak ties’ in the networks and communities we care about? For the Edmund Hillary Fellowship, does success look like 500+ separate, individually thriving ventures, or is something of a greater magnitude possible?
Onwards, ever onwards
And so the wayfinding continues. The more I learn, the more curious I become. And increasingly aware that there is only so much I can see, do and understand alone. On that point, if you’re reading this, I’d love to hear your reflections and provocations. Help me shape The Connectorship Project, and make it useful. As per another of Lankelly Chase’s beliefs about systems:
Everyone who is part of a system holds a different perspective on its nature, purpose and boundaries. No one person holds the whole truth (including us).
Next time more on social process, multiplexity and some of the tensions I’m unearthing exploring this complex, rich craft of connectorship. But for now, I’ll leave you with some recommendations:
- Via Alina Siegfried, Tree.FM, if you wish for woodlands while you work.
- Speaking of trees, some books I’ve loved recently. The Songs of Trees, The Overstory, Underland and Braiding Sweetgrass. I challenge you to read any of these and not come away with a more connected perspective.
- And a beautiful set of cards for nurturing connectedness — We Are Not Really Strangers.
Much appreciation goes to all those who’ve been part of workshops and sessions I’ve run and to many, many outstanding conversation partners. Grateful for the insights of Mix Irving, Nandini Nair, Thea Snow, Charlie Grosso, Sam Rye and Kate Sutton in particular. If you are enjoying these reflections, please consider supporting The Connectorship Project on Open Collective. If you’d like future editions in your inbox, click here. And if not, no hard feelings.
Until next time, thanks for reading. Your thoughts, comments, suggestions — and connections — are always welcome. Happy connecting x
