It’s a Good View from Here
I’ve always preferred flying at 30,000 feet, both literally and figuratively. I have accumulated some 2.8 million miles with American Airlines – that’s actual miles, not credit miles. I spend a lot of time on an airplane. The picture of southern Greenland above is from around 36,000 feet, taken on the way home from London in March.
Figuratively, I am a I/D on the DiSC, a Social Two on the Enneagram and an ENTJ on the Myers-Briggs. I prefer looking at the big picture rather than getting down into the weeds. I would be very pleased if my life was filled with people who prefer the weeds and would love nothing more than to carry out my grand 30,000-foot plans. I had that for 25 years. I’m not going to lie. It was nice.
I did a keynote presentation in January for the Metro Mayor’s Caucus. There were 35 mayors in attendance from the greater Denver area. I watched them pour over charts, statutes, and codes like children on a playground. They clearly loved the details.
One of the attendees, a former mayor now directing the caucus, came over to me and said, “I will never understand this urge to obsess over data charts. These people love the details.” I told her that I have been encouraged to run for mayor and she said she’d be happy to get together to talk about how to be an effective mayor without having to get down into the weeds.
But I live in Lyons, Colorado. I have a vision of a town that trusts its staff and works from Carver Policy Governance. The elected officials determine the ends they want to achieve, based on the desires of their constituents. The staff determines the means. It worked for me for the better part of 30 years at the Orchard Group. Why not in Lyons, Colorado? Because culture trumps vision every time, that’s why.
Our town has been around for over 100 years and as far as I can tell, the board has always been down in the weeds. Meetings can last six hours. They start at 5:30 in the evening, the first and third Mondays of the month. Last night we were home by 9:30, a small miracle.
This term I am serving as mayor pro tem, a position chosen by the Board of Trustees. I have a few extra responsibilities, but mostly it just requires me to live in the details even more than before.
I’ve worked in the non-profit world, academia, corporate America, and now in the public sector. I worked a bit with the Biden administration’s faith-based initiatives team during the first two years of his presidency. I was invited to the White House three times. I couldn’t go two of the times and my flight cancelled on the third. I figured I’d just go during his second term. Yeah, well, we know how that worked out. So, it’s local government for me, digging into the weeds where the details live, waiting to ensnare you in their complicated web of ordinances, resolutions, and quasi-judicial proceedings.
It appears to me that most people think I know what I am doing. Honestly, I have no idea how they come to that conclusion. I do stuff wrong every month and misunderstand something in just about every meeting. I do not speak up often. People always think you are smarter when you remain quiet. If you speak up too much, as I am prone to do in most other settings, people quickly figure out you’re not as smart as they thought you were. It’s humbling to see that recognition come over their faces.
I loved leading a nonprofit through 25 years of unprecedented growth. The key is that I hired well. The people on our senior leadership team were fantastic. Well, at least until I transitioned and all. But that does not take away from what we accomplished together with their hard work.
If I have a gift as a leader, it is that when I trust my instincts I tend to hire well. I see what people are capable of and empower them to achieve it. It’s fun to watch. Yeah, sometimes they come off the tracks and things go sideways, but we always figure it out.
The first couple of years after transitioning I became convicted that I had contributed in unhealthy ways to the patriarchy and I stopped trusting my instincts. My work experiences since that time confirmed that not trusting my instincts was a bad idea. I’ve been trusting them again for a few years now, which has turned out well.
Whether flying at 30,000 feet or working in the weeds, I love the work I have been able to do. If life is worth living, then it is worth living robustly, with never ending curiosity, an open spirit, and a receptive soul.
And so it goes.
