Want more collaboration? Think safety first.

Recently I had the opportunity to spend three days with about 30 people just North of Kingston, Ontario learning the Art of Hosting.

The four-fold practices of the Art of Hosting from Chris Corrigan's website. Image is linked.

The Art of Hosting is a set of practices and the methods and tools that can be designed into a process for ever-deepening dialogue.

From the outset, it was participatory. We co-created the content with our stories, our bodies, our laughter and our tears. We shared our aspirations, hopes, fears and ideas. Seeing others show up to re-imagine the world as a better place gave me a feeling of confidence that we could do it. And we did, together.

Strangers became friends. Friendships deepened. I was there with Amina, and a few fellow Concordia alumni, including one of my besties, Patricia. I left with new memories and new numbers in my phone. I had new knowledge, methods and practices that I could apply right away to work-related projects. I even left with deep personal insights. A chapter closed and a new one began.

We learned, a lot! We learned to be together. We learned to listen more deeply. We learned to host conversations about difficult subjects that meant something to the people participating in them. We learned to harvest those insights and move them to action. I was moved to tears a few times, both when listening to others' - and when trying to speak my own - truth. We learned how by doing so.

By the end of the weekend, one participant pointed out that it had gone from pragmatic to profound. For me, it was one of the first times I had been in public with a group of strangers since before the pandemic. I had a sense that we entered sacred space-time. Magic was alive and the fires roared.

Setting the stage for a weekend of hosting, learning, and co-creating.

One of the things that stood out the most to me was the quality of participation. I've rarely seen that much co-creation on such deep topics with so much diversity in the participants. Many people took on leadership roles at different times in the weekend, offering to host conversations for example, despite never being exposed to facilitation or training like this before. No one person or group dominated the space. Everyone contributed something unique and special to the learning and the hosting.

How did that happen?

Cedric Jamet, Chris Corrigan, Troy Maracle and Jennifer Williams - hosts extraordinaire!

We were hosted by people who care - about the topic, about each other, and about the participants. They talked about how they started every call by checking-in with each other about how they were doing. They demonstrated respect, made jokes and shared the stage with each other and participants. The quality of the relationships of the people doing the hosting was evident.

The relationships of those doing the hosting, I think, are the most critical element to being able to create the conditions for people to feel safe enough to participate meaningfully, deeply, effectively.

They took the time and the care to ensure the invitation reflected what they wanted to co-create with the participants. They participated themselves by sharing their gifts, knowledge, stories and motivations behind what they were re-imagining. They were coherent to the invitation in their words and actions. They offered gratitude throughout the weekend for the chefs and the food they prepared for us and pointed out that we could relax and be cared for by them, then followed through on all of those promises. They adapted the program based on the seed sanctuary (a "parking lot" rebrand), energy levels and feedback. And accommodated requests for cabin moves and special diets.

The land formed part of the container of safety for learning.

We were hosted by the land - as well as the waters and elements. The fresh chilly air, rainy days, changing leaves, birds flying overhead and the beautiful landscape were part of the container of safety. It provided a nourishing place to feel feelings and think thoughts; to just be. We were immersed in the experience since it was all around us and we were within it too.

The earth supported our feet as we walked from our cabins to the dining hall in the rain, just as it supported our learning as we found unique places to connect.

We were hosted by each other - with support and encouragement from the hosts, who were quick to step aside when people had good ideas. For example, an invitation to go outside and be smudged was integrated into the formal programming. They also invited participants to become hosts, either directly or leaving it to chance for anyone who felt compelled in the moment. We arrived Thursday night, and by Friday the design included opportunities for participants to lead.

Taking on different roles over the weekend energized me and kept me engaged.

I got to host a storyteller and her attentive listeners. It was little more than keeping time and sharing the basic instructions, but it felt good to be (t)asked. I could have leaned out and become passive to what was happening, especially given the topic was "Re-imagining Education" and I've never worked in that domain. Instead, I left the weekend feeling rejuvenated.

By the end of the weekend I was a table host, getting input into a project that is alive for me right now.

We hosted ourselves - and this was necessary, encouraged and modelled by the hosts. We are all imperfect, messy humans with triggers and needs, sleeping in creaky beds away from our families. At one point I needed a nap, a walk and a good cry more than I needed more knowledge. I took a walk in the woods, allowing the rain to cover up any evidence of the tears, then went and slept in my cabin until the next session started. At previous times in my life, I would have felt guilty and ashamed, but this time I felt proud of myself. By taking care of my own needs I wasn't putting it on someone else to deal with my crankiness. I came back feeling refreshed, more patient, and with new insights from my inner landscape.

Self-hosting, one of the four-fold practices, is encouraged.

Not to bury the lede, but the key takeaway for me was that these factors are just some of what created the level of safety and trust for us to show up fully and authentically enough to contribute, participate and collaborate. We advanced real efforts, together, and left feeling capable of continuing those efforts.

I left with a deep, embodied understanding of how important safety is to a group's ability to work together effectively, turning even strangers into collaborators. That realization is changing the way I design group processes, as new insights arise each time I sit down to work on a project or proposal.

I returned home with pearls of wisdom from each participant. And that is the greatest gift of collaboration; to learn the right thing in just the right moment.