Maturity

This year when I do my taxes I won't be Head of Household for the first time in decades. Also, next month I will apply for social security benefits. My life is changing rapidly.

I enjoyed the OCF Board meeting. I had been avoiding them, afraid I'd get mad about that old "us vs. them" feeling that comes up when I disagree with establishment policy, but like many myths, I find the us/them dichotomy a little too simple to sustain in reality. I don't have a simple relationship with the Fair. I pay them a lot of money, to make a lot of money, and I also do printing for various Fair groups, so I get a lot of benefits from Fair relationships. A lot of my friends and family go there, work there, love it. It's a huge part of my year. I think it was the rain in 2008 (has it really been that long?) that made me rethink my attitudes.

As I sat by my huge pile of wet shirts all packed to go home, for an extra night and day because "they" wouldn't let my helper drive in, I had a lot of complaints. I've sold at the Fair for thirty-some years, but I didn't feel "seen." I thought that staff lumped me into a category of "gray-haired ditzy craftswoman" and shut down the minute I walked toward them. I thought I saw that happening enough times to give it mythic status, and I was defensive about it. I wrote a nasty letter that I had the good sense to put aside, but the feelings rankled for more than a year. At some point I realized that if I wanted to be seen, I had to show myself. I had to step up a little and build trust from my side, so next time my needs weren't met, I would have more avenues to articulate them.

It wasn't just staff, but I could frame lots of the volunteers as my enemies as well. I could build that pile of resentments and complaints as high as I wanted, but it all mushed down to the fact that if I wanted cooperation and trust, that had to start with me. I give Jen-Lin the credit because we were friends, and through her I met a lot of the people I held responsible. And if she liked them, and I trusted her, by extension...I might like them too, or at least get to understand their perspectives. She gives good attention. I could give better attention.

And sure enough, as I looked closely at what people said and did in the context of their jobs (whether for pay or not, all of the work we do for Fair is work) trust blossomed like a strange and terrifying orchid. Pretty soon it was impossible for me to see any "them." All I could see were issues that might benefit from the application of more energy, perhaps my energy.

Did I like everyone and want to hang out with them? Not really relevant in the context of work. Not enough communication in both directions? Read the minutes, or better still, go to the meetings. I heard there would be an effort to better document the work of the committees through a group of minutes-takers, and this was really up my alley. I am fascinated by meetings, but I like to have something to do. Taking minutes is fun for me. So I started going to meetings, as an active observer, taking minutes. Immediately people became real to me, and I'm assuming I became real to them. When I sat in the room with people who craft the budget, do the longterm visioning, work to articulate guidelines and to make the Fair walk it's talk environmentally, I got the big picture in a lot of new ways. I had not been paying real attention.

And personally, did I want to be reactive? I could throw angry letters out to the FFN, but did that result in change? Anger, shaming, taking people to task: those are violent and don't result in effective leadership. The people I was meeting were humans. I could see when their feelings were hurt, when they got defensive, what closed them down or frustrated them.

It did not take long to build trust for me, and I hope it is mutual. Last night I was officially appointed to the Crafts Committee, a longstanding committee that is quite vital in the process and perhaps not fully utilized in some ways. I don't have an agenda beyond listening and contributing to forward movement. I went to the Board meeting with a little trepidation, mostly embarrassed because I had not attended a Board meeting in so long I couldn't be sure I ever had. That's pretty disgraceful to me. I read the minutes word for word, but even though those minutes are explicit, there is nothing like being in the room to get the sense of a meeting, and by extension, a community.

I think the Fair is so many fairs happening at the same time, (since we each have a complicated relationship with it) that for decisions to be made to serve the most people, many many stakeholders have to weigh in. I didn't really have an opinion about Barter Fair, except that the proposal to take a break from it this year seemed too harsh. That was easily amended to put closure off, although it is tempting from a "let's get this change in the works" viewpoint to see what a relief to many a closure would be. Problem is, Fair decisions have to work for everyone, if that is remotely possible. Taking one more year to solve the problems of Barter Fair was the right way to go for now. The problems are big, and what is on the ground in that parking lot is real, and has grown naturally from the desires of the participants. That has to be honored. It isn't just a managerial problem that can be solved managerially.

That's the crux of the matter at the Fair. We challenge ourselves to act from the heart in new ways to make a better society. That ethic is strong in the Fair operations and policy-makers, by my observation. It comes up at every meeting I've attended, that someone says "Well, to be consistent with our values," or "to do things the Fair way" or some such statement. I firmly believe this does come from the heart, and Fair people generally have well-developed hearts. People say "family" without a trace of irony. It's a giant, messy, wide-ranging and very powerful family, doing ordinary things in a rather extraordinary way.

At this point in my life, I really want to be consistent with my values. Honesty, trust, hard work, being loving and giving and forgiving, just simple basic things. Layers of actions are built from there, about how to make money, how to be creative and feed myself physically and emotionally, how to be proud of my actions and words and contribute to the common good. How can I ask the world to be what I am not willing to be? I can't be a hypocrite, if I can help it.

I'm not saying I'm drinking any Kool-Aid in regard to the love fest part, though I have seen the magic and felt it for myself. It's definitely an amazing, earth-shaking event and organization that enriches so many lives and changes the world. Of this there is no doubt.

It has to be sustained, and have a continuing life for as long as it can remain positive and enriching. Lots of forces are always present to take it down other roads, and it has gone down a few I wouldn't have chosen if it were my choice. But, it has gone down those roads through collective action, and because into the open space came the people who came, carrying what they carried. There is a certain brilliance in the concept of "it is what it is."

Quite simply, I am one of the creative people who make it so, whether I do that in reaction or action. I can watch and criticize from the sidelines, I can make it harder to move forward, or I can be one of the ones who adds my efforts to the wheel.

Last night the facilitator looked in my direction about fifty times, and I was invited to respond as much as I wanted. This was true for everyone in the room. This Fair is responsive. Questions were thoughtfully answered. Concerns were actively heard. Opinions were expressed, and it felt like equality.

I still have things to sort out in regard to OCF. Reasons people don't participate are many, and I can articulate some of them as I make this shift into a more solid "us" position. Maybe I can even bring in a bit more participation in addition to my own. I would welcome more crafters at the Craft Committee meetings, and there is one tonight, at 6:00 in the town office. Good decisions take thorough efforts. We have to think things through, and untie the knots that bind us into contorted positions that don't serve the common good.

Lots of people have been doing this for all of the forty-plus years of the Fair. They've done their best. I am grateful to them. It feels a lot better to join them than to criticize them. I'll try to be careful, and I suppose I'll continue to make errors as I go, since life is a mystery and a wonder and there is no one right way to do it.

But if I had to make a list of what I love about the Fair and what I don't, one would be long and one would be short. I enjoy pitching in. I like it when my assumptions are challenged. And I love to watch good process unfold, and the Fair does really good process, when we all pitch in.