We're Not Playing a Football Game

So many conflicting and emotional thoughts to sort through on the Monday after the first Holiday Market. By appearances we just change venue, go indoors to do the same thing in a different space. Internally, we change season from the long days of summer to the short dark times when we huddle around a candle waiting for the solstice. We need the light to return. We look around at each other and all the darkness seeps out to puddle on those concrete floors and get swept up into some kind of warmth and an eventual rest.

I had so many conversations about death, and that's my normal there. I missed Connie dropping her heavy bags in the aisle in front of my booth as her arms gave out and I wished I had carried them for her many more times. There's a missing beating heart down on her corner for sure, as the fabric reweaves itself around that tear. Other people have left or moved. I would venture to say nearly everyone there wants Colleen's cheerful greeting in the morning. We grow used to ourselves and forget that little about the Market is the same from week to week. We're so lucky to have new and different, to remind us to value dependable and time-tested as well. We need both.

At Market we still remind ourselves that we are engaged in working together for the common good, seeking consensus, but that doesn't mean we all think of that with each of our daily acts. I say we are non-competitive, but sometimes neighbors do argue over inches of space or perceived visibilty, and obviously we have developed forms called "Notice of Concern" and "Market Standards and Craft Specific Guidelines" for good reasons. Conflict resolution can be a driver for rules, but in our language and our rules we mostly try for conflict avoidance. We try to stay out ahead of what will cause distress or chaos.

There have been endless hours of discussion about our policies, and they are all living history as we figure out how to keep them current and fair. New technologies have to be addressed as that line shifts between handcrafted and manufactured. Survival of handcrafting is paramount...if someone can cut their costs to compete unfairly, we might need to look into how far we have extended our tolerance for production over one-of-a-kind. We want there to be honor in our work, a shared understanding that it is not about the sales we can each make, but about the success of all of us together. With Fair, we all want to have our Fair, the one we value so much. There is always that pure level of what we call love.

We had a surprising first day, as going in earlier had most of us thinking we'd have some empty aisles, but every spot was sold, and anticipation was high. People came! Ironically the football game benefitted us for a change as the park-and-ride allowed some visitor motivation at the end of the day.

My thoughts about football were spurred from a post by Heather Cox Richardson, someone I discovered on FB, who is writing cogent daily posts about the impeachment situation. I appreciate her analysis and she is good at tying threads together. Her post was about baseball, basicallly saying if one team wins by cheating, the game gradually changes to one that is rigged by cheating and it isn't fun to watch anymore as the democracy and rule of law are discarded. That's not exactly what she said but what I've been reflecting on lately is how OCF politics got from the consensus-seeking group process we've been refining and particpating in for fifty years to this game of power politics that we are watching unfold now. I am not enjoying watching it, at all.

Power politics have no place in the kind of mutual-benefit, every-member-is-equal kind of organization that developed over time. The goals of fairness, equity, honorable actions and striving together for the common good are, to my mind, the opposite of the goals of football. Winning by dominating just shouldn't even be in our toolbox of the techniques we use to find agreement for the common good. I think this understanding is key to what we're going through now.

The last committee meeting I participated in was one of the worst of my entire life. As I process it over time to try to understand it, I can't get past the bullying. One person, because they didn't like the way things were going, decided that our thin quorum was within their power to take, and got up to leave mid-meeting. They were willing to jettison our ability to make decisions to wrap up our year of work, instead of accepting that they could just vote no, or continue to try to persuade. Accepting that the group did not agree with them. It can be humbling.

I have been thinking about this personality type I am calling The Spoiler. This person is carrying enough unresolved pain or trauma that they take some joy in causing chaos, just to ruin whatever structure they perceive is part of their oppression. They get increasingly angry that they aren't getting the compassion and connection they need, and their sense of belonging and community rips, and they just want to destroy what everyone else is happily working to build. It's not a simple situation as sometimes their position has validity, but their tactics of destruction can only result in a more chaotic mess where even fewer people will get their needs met, and they might get a sense of winning, but they cause more loss than gain. Their willingness for transgression is attractive to others who have simmering anger and need permission to transgress. Things devolve quickly into a savage atmosphere where defensiveness and agression are common.

To the committee's credit, the bullying was identified and the person's anger was addressed to some degree and they stayed, but that particular issue was indeed derailed and everyone was disturbed enough that a productive meeting was barely accomplished. It left a nasty residue for me. My actions were not blameless in response, so I want to do better, but aside from setting some boundaries I am not sure I can fix it. A spoiler is not going to become a reasonable person who won't try it again. A bully won't just reform into an empathetic supporter of group process.

Unless, of course, they are shown a way that resonates for them as a better way to get their needs met. It's a self-discovery process though, and there is no instant fix for the kind of hurt and stress that causes the bully or spoiler to develop. It always seems like it will require a show of greater strength. If we don't tolerate it, if we articulate it and illuminate it, maybe we can sidestep from having to have a violent confrontation about it. If we can depend on the rule of law, on the fair process we have written down, on the thoughtful discussions we are able to have, maybe we can fix some of it.

But not as long as the people who want to win by dominating are feeling their power and are succeeding. We see that crumbling in the macrocosm. I want to see it dissolve in our microcosm.

There is no place for power politics in a membership organization. Winning and losing are a fantasy of football. Think about it. No one at a concert wins or loses. No one at a family dinner. No one wins the Holiday Market. No one wins the Jell-O Art Show. No awards are given at a potluck.

Let's do better, friends. Let's huddle a little closer around our candle and actively encourage the light to return. Because you know what? We're all gonna die. All. Of. Us. Some way too soon.

Someone very wonderful yesterday asked me if I would sit down to receive a compliment. It felt extremely odd and a first for me to experience that, and my ego swelled up as I thought of all the good works I have tried to do and how hard I had been trying all weekend to contain the emotions and stay positive and encouraging. I sat and vowed to listen and treasure what he was about to say.

He said, "I really like your hair. It looks beautiful."

And in doing that he revealed to me the material for a dozen essays. Did I laugh out loud, or even say thank you? I felt disappointed...I pointed out that I had recently given myself a really bad haircut (and there is a rather elaborate story about that) but was depending on my natural curl to do its thing. We had a short chat and I left to resume working with the new wonder of what he was really doing. Was it really just that?

I have my theories. He had his motives. He genuinely likes my hair. It made me like my hair more than I did when I last looked in the mirror. What if that was enough, to sit and find out a person looked at me and enjoyed what he saw. What if that was enough? Not that writing a dozen essays would be a bad thing, but what if I learned to just say thank you? And love myself a little more.

What if being together in all this is enough? We're so damn lucky to be here. We don't need a prize. Nobody needs to win this. It would be nice if we could learn to love it.