I wonder if there is anything more professionally challenging than standing in the midst of a conference you are leading and sobbing uncontrollably? I have certainly had my share of difficult situations in my time, but what I experienced on the rim of Kiluea in 2010 stretched every of my personal and professional limit, and it taught me an important lesson.
In the early 2000s several Hawaiian spiritual and political leaders began issuing a challenge to American society. Recognizing that messages about “sustainability” were having no impact on the environmental and cultural decimation of their lands and the Earth, they challenged the shapers of American values to up their game. They called together influential leaders from large companies, marketing firms, social enterprises and institutions such as Nike, the Sundance Film Festival and the Pachamama Alliance. The invitation said: come to Hawai’i and learn about the Hawaiian concept of “reverence” in order to think about how it might shape a new culture of leadership. They invited me to help lead the proceedings.
The gathering was called “Beyond Sustainability.” We met on the rim of Kiluea, the volcanic home of the goddess Pele, in the early days of the summer of 2010. The conference consisted of three days of deep teaching and ceremony led by high-ranking Hawai’ian spiritual leaders combined with dialogue and strategy. It was a crash course in a worldview that saw the planet as an island, floating in space. It was a user manual for living together across differences. The Americans who were in attendance struggled with what they were learning. Hawaiians were sharing deep cultural wisdom and also sharing the pain of colonization and of being erased on their own lands. They shared their fears about the future of the planet, and they shared a set of practices and ceremonies that were designed to help the Americans think differently about leadership and action.
For their part, the Americans were polite guests. They listened and questioned what they were hearing. They held the teachings with great respect but it was clear that they had no idea how to take Hawaiian concepts of reverence into the corporate boardrooms of New York and Portland and Seattle and San Francisco. They were unable to commit to personal work. They were defensive at times. They thought of themselves as enlightened, kind hearted, generous with their time and money and allies of the Hawaiians, but with a few exceptions, they didn’t see themselves as peers.
As the conference went on, it was clear that the Hawaiians were growing increasingly frustrated. They had hoped to be meeting with people who were open to change. Instead, the encounter began to dissolve into a high level act of cultural tourism. At one point, during a hula ceremony, people started taking pictures. The leader of our gathering, upon seeing that people were more interested in observing than participating, was ready to call a halt to the proceedings. The ceremonies were becoming performances and the teachings were turning into lectures. It fell on my shoulders to make this work: to stand between frustrated high-ranking Hawaiian spiritual teachers and defensive and impatient American business people.
It was clear to me that the gulf between these two groups was almost irreconcilable. It was clear to me that this represented a bigger global problem and one that was going to cause humans to make choices that would imperil all life on earth. And that was when I stood on the rim of the volcano, images of lost friends going through my mind, and I started sobbing.
One of the Hawaiians leaders, a strong willed sovereigntist, hula teacher and bookstore owner, confronted me and shouted at me. “What happened to you this morning on the volcano?” I said I didn’t know. She was furious. I grew defensive. She asked me what right i had to be defensive. I wracked my brain for a non-defensive answer and finally I surrendered. “Maile,” I said. “I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Finally,” she said gently. It was the first time anyone at the gathering admitted they were scared and confused. All that talent and confidence in the room, and everyone seemed so certain about what to do. But truthfully none of us knew what to do about the future of our planet and that petrified all of us. When I finally said it, choking back tears, everything opened up. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done professionally.
For the rest of the day we talked between sobs, sharing concerns and fears. There were no immediate solutions. We were failing at the price of solidifying our emotional armor. When we react to that fear with defensiveness, we close ourselves to relationship. We adopt the stance that somehow we are above the problem or that our good intentions are enough to spare us the wrath of another’s pain. Maile and I were learning that staying in relationship was difficult, especially when there were so many differences between us. But, Hawaiians do not shy away from difficult conversations because they know that it safer to live on an island where we can hold difference with compassion and curiosity than it is to set sail across 2,500 miles of open ocean to find another home. And when it comes to the planet, there is no option to leave the island.
My friend Christina Baldwin says,“curiosity and judgement cannot live together in the same mind.” Curiosity requires vulnerability. Where there is vulnerability there is openness, and we can hear each other’s story, confront our own failings and create something new. Where there is defensiveness there is judgment and where there is judgement there is no possibility for reconciliation. We close down, create separation, and only move forward at the expense of others. There is no secret to being more vulnerable. The reason we aren’t more vulnerable is that it is simply hard.
It is hard to admit in public that you are afraid and don’t know what to do. But on the rim of that volcano, I discovered that being transparent with my own fears and confusion allowed for an astounding moment of grace to occur that enabled Maile and I to stay in relationship despite our differences. When we are scared and we don’t know what to do we need to be able to just be afraid and confused together. Only then will we find the direction that leads to compassionate action. We might not get it right, but we will stay together.
