Archives for August 2018

I met Ron early during my personal growth journey. We both volunteer at Foundations Workshops, the program that changed our lives. Now we pay it forward.

Ron and I have shared facilitation duties for 14 years. Ron has the distinction of being the only person who has hung around for about as long as I have. People see us as mentors, as a steady presence that reassures them because they know they can lean on us.

For Ron, it’s even more than that. Although we’ve presented the program in such far-flung places as Tennessee, British Columbia, Alberta, and other places throughout North America, the city with greatest longevity is Portland, OR.

Ron is considered the father of the Portland program. The year was 2004. At the time, the program was operating only in Pigeon Forge, TN. Ron approached Eldon, the leader of the program, about starting a second program in Portland. He loves to tell the story. Apparently they met in a back room, in a chicken wire cage used to store and secure equipment. It is the genesis story of a program that has affected the lives of more than one thousand participants in over 60 different groups. When other cities are included in the total, Ron has facilitated 115 Foundations workshops.

Starting a program in a new city is HARD. There is no onsite infrastructure or leadership. There are few volunteers for a program that runs primarily on volunteers. Most important, there are few alumni. Alumni are critical to a program where word-of-mouth is the only proven form of marketing or advertising.

Ron overcame these obstacles. Because I was primarily involved in the Tennessee program, I don’t know exactly how he did it. His wife Judy was instrumental. So was Judy’s sister Carol and her husband Mike. Other close friends and relatives lent their support and risked their good reputations. Bottom line: They all were committed to doing what it took to have what they wanted.

Even so, we’ve gone to cities where people could fill the first room but couldn’t keep it going beyond the initial workshop. Enrollment takes hard, hard work, and sometimes even hard work isn’t even enough. To make it 14 years in a single location is truly remarkable, and Ron and Judy have been there for the entire ride. All of the Portland participants owe a debt of gratitude to them.

Ron and I sit together at the back table during workshops. There is plenty of down time between our large group facilitation duties. When the participants break into small groups to share, we can often carry on a soft conversation. We learn a lot about each other during these conversations.

Ron is a quiet guy with deep convictions. He is thoughtful and his facilitation is well planned out. We have a very similar personality style. We’ve done much to change and mold the workshops around our shared strategic vision.

For instance, years ago the workshop involved a lot of getting into people’s faces, being confrontational in an effort to push people into change. Ron and I didn’t see that as productive. Participants would get a big “pop” or “high” from the workshop but the long-term effects were less certain.

Ron and I were instrumental in bringing a gentler, encouraging approach which relies on people deciding to change rather than having change foisted upon them. People could then take credit for their own change. It seems to work at least as well, and probably better than the “old school” days.

When I was young, it was hard to imagine older people—people my current age—being affected by events in their childhood. I thought, “It was such a long time ago. They certainly should have gotten past old hurts by now—shouldn’t they?”

Of course, now I know different. My childhood still affects how I see and interact with the world every hour of every day. That’s true for everybody, no matter what our ages.

Ron was raised in an abusive environment. When he became an adult, the consequences of this abuse manifested in him as rage.

But people can change if they do the hard work required. He is now a recovering rage-a-holic. The personal growth required to recover from his childhood has given him the wisdom, experience, and wealth of knowledge to guide others. He’s continued to counsel others through their own past hurts and hang ups.

I’ve never asked him what motivated him to change and gave him the strength to do it. But if I had to guess, I’d say his family was a huge factor. To my knowledge, Ron’s family is the most important worldly thing to him. He is a zealous protector. His family and the Portland workshop are two tall pillars of his legacy.

I believe he used to rage because tells me so. But I’ve never seen him out of control and have hardly ever seen him visibly angry. I simply don’t know the person he used to be. He did a tremendous amount of work before I ever met him. Given that I fly into a rage by the third straight red light I encounter while driving, I need to learn more from him. Obviously, my own rage ain’t about the red lights.

We are different in one way. Ron is very measured, even, and calm. I can get excitable when I need to. One day the participants were waiting outside to enter the workshop room. They were to come in with a lot of energy and excitement—loud music, jumping around, dancing, that sort of thing.

I had to go into the room ahead of the participants and leave Ron with them. So I told Ron, “Fire them up and send them in!” The look on Ron’s face was priceless. It was as if I told him to put the participants on a spaceship and send them to the moon. So I stayed and fired them up myself. We each have our own gifts.

Ron takes great pride in his facilitation, and deservedly so. One of the most challenging facilitation roles is large group sharing. There is very little structure. The facilitator uses his intuition, his skills, his compassion and wisdom to help others see what’s going on in their lives and what they might do about it. This is usually a job for our most experienced facilitators: Rick, Ron, and me.

Ron relishes the role, and so do I. The most personally satisfying moments of our jobs often come during this process. It takes all we have, all we are, all of our courage and wisdom. It is the job other facilitators aspire toward, and wonder if they would have the courage do if it was offered to them. Ron handles the responsibility with aplomb.

Ron loves to make things with his own two hands. He creates woodworking projects. His handiwork can be seen in many items in the workshop room. He sees it as an outlet for his creativity to solve a problem with a unique item he’s fashioned specifically for the job.

He is hard-working, dedicated, and dependable. He is responsible for the transportation and storage of all the equipment used in the workshop.

Ron is kind and tolerant. One year I sent a ham to Ron for Christmas. He’s a vegetarian. Instead of embarrassing me for the faux pas, he quietly gave the ham to somebody else.

Then the next Christmas, I gave him another ham. It wasn’t until the third year that I finally realized my lack of awareness and sensitivity. Ron was gracious and forgiving.

Ron is honest and forthright. He gives people the benefit of the doubt, yet maintains good relationship boundaries. He sets the example for others to follow.

Ron lives his integrity. He is the same person no matter where he is, what he’s doing, or who he’s with. He doesn’t cut ethical corners.

Ron keeps me grounded. As he’s a steady, calming presence for everybody else in the workshop room, he’s my steady presence as well. I know he has my back.

Ron is my close friend. I look forward to seeing him every workshop. When I’m with Ron, I feel like I’m at home, wherever I may be.

Rick and I met in 2008 as fellow volunteers in the Foundations workshop. We took parallel paths to increasing responsibility: Small group facilitation, large group facilitation, team leadership, mentorship, company leadership. We’ve worked side-by-side throughout, learning from each other and improving our craft.

In recent years, Rick has taken on the responsibility of overall leadership of the Portland program. He replaced me as president of the organization and is a long-term board member. When I stepped down as president, I chose to nominate Rick as my replacement. He was hesitant, but as always he did what was best for the organization.

He takes the lead in enrollment. This means that he is responsible for filling the room with participants, the hardest and most thankless job in the program. Most people, not even I, realize just how much time he spends interacting with prospects, prodding and encouraging them to attend.

It isn’t easy to convince people to attend a 3-day intensive workshop where they know they’ll be asked to confront their fears and talk about their emotions. Just ask Rick. It took four years of prodding and encouragement by others before he finally agreed to attend the workshop. The paradox of trying to explain the benefits of the program is that people can’t assess the value of those benefits until they actually go through the program. Rick helps people make that leap of faith. People trust him when he tells them that it will be well worth it.

Rick also does the all-important introduction session in the workshop room. It sets the tone for the entire program and sets him up as lead facilitator in the eyes of the participants. In reality, there’s no hierarchical leadership structure in the room, but people always look for the person who’s “in charge.”

Because of the many important roles he plays, the participants are actually not wrong. If there’s a single leader of the program in Portland, it’s Rick.

Which is what makes my experience with Rick all the more remarkable. When I’m in the room, he almost always consults with me and treats me like a mentor. He’s led dozens of programs without me, so he’s more than capable. He doesn’t need my advice. Yet he includes me in most of the decisions made during the course of a workshop and respects my judgment.

From this, I’ve learned that Rick doesn’t let his ego get in the way, despite the fact that he’s ambitious. He’s willing to continue learning and growing even after doing the program more than one hundred times. And when it comes to running a workshop, he places the quality of the participants’ experience above all.

Rick’s facilitation skills have improved continuously over the decade I’ve watched him. He has an easy, disarming way with his audience. He relates to people well and they respond. This is very important in a workshop where people enter extremely nervously. He has a professional demeanor which allows people to relax because they know they are in capable hands.

During the workshop, we need to build trust quickly. This is difficult because we’re all strangers walking in. But Rick is usually not a stranger to them because they’ve already talked with him and established a rapport.

In the initial session, Rick has the participants play a silly game trying to guess where South America is in relation to the United States. He takes 20 minutes or more playing this game with the group. I disliked watching him spend so much time on it because we get behind schedule right out of the gate.

What I finally realized was that he was further developing his rapport with them and building trust. This is exactly what needs to happen early in the program. He was so smooth with it that I didn’t even realize that’s what he was doing.

I watch how Rick relates to the group and wonder, “Why can’t I be more like Rick?” Then I quickly recognize and correct my own self-defeating thoughts. Yes, I admire Rick’s abilities and qualities as a facilitator. And I also have my own different and equally valuable abilities and qualities. It would be great to be just like Rick. But it’s good for me and the participants that I am just like Steve.

Rick and his wife Heather are my wonderful Portland-based hosts. In fact, Heather really deserves her own letter, as she is also somebody in which I can confide. If I’m still in town the morning after a workshop, the three of us find a restaurant to have brunch and talk. After a long, tiring marathon workshop, I’m sure the two of them would treasure some down time. But they are generous with their time, and I am privileged to enjoy their company.

Heather and Rick like to jokingly rib each other. It took me by surprise because neither of them appear to do this with other people. It’s an endearing part of their relationship.

Whenever I have a full day, Rick and Heather play tour guides and show me the area. Portland is vibrant and Oregon is naturally spectacular, and there’s always something new to show me. They must enjoy showing people around, because they spend a lot of time showing me around. Once Jamie came with me to Portland and the four of us did the tourist thing.

Heather and Rick eat vegan. Heather prepares vegan food for me and takes me to vegan restaurants. The first time I went to a vegan restaurant, I was confused to find meat on the menu. Turns out that [meat-not meat] is common in those establishments. I’m afraid Heather hasn’t converted me. I’m a die-hard carnivore. Now that my son and daughter-in-law also eat vegan, I’m not clueless about it.

Rick treats people fairly and with respect. He has a practical, rather than dogmatic approach to life and relationships. He seems to believe that love is the most important guiding philosophy. In this we agree.

The last decade working and playing alongside Rick have been meaningful, important and exhilarating. We have sharpened our skills, learned from each other, and have co-created an incredible journey. We pursue our life purposes together.

More important, our friendship has grown and deepened throughout. We trust each other. We lean on each other. We share our triumphs and struggles. It’s pretty remarkable for two guys who live 2,600 miles away from each other.

Rick, my life is richer because you are in it.