amusement park dream
My dream began in a park. I was walking through the “business district” of an amusement park. You know, the section where you can get a way from the rides a little and just lounge, eat, and relax. Passing through a covered portico, I noticed people staring down a vertically cut shaft, drilled through solid rock, about 3 feet across and vanishing into darkness. I wondered what it was for and thought about dropping a pebble. Strolling on, I saw a similar shaft next to a café. The café had a raised area for people to sit and eat with three foot high glass railing dividing it from passersby. I noted a ladies restroom door on the left edge of the platform with stairs on the left leading to it.
Somehow, I fell. I found myself at the bottom on the shaft; miraculously unharmed, but far beyond help. Looking around, I was in an underground room, barren of furnishings, carved from rock and painted light grey. The light from the shaft supplemented indirect lighting; the room was easy to see in. It was really more like a wide corridor than a room. Then I noticed the people.
There were a few lost souls down there with me, some dressed as well as the people above us had been, others dusty from their fall. We were all trapped together. I wandered down the corridor, noting that the walls had become uniformly smooth and straight, built with sheetrock facing and occasional cupboard doors and doorways. Every door I tried revealed either empty shelves or was locked. Along the way I found people here in there, sitting somewhat glumly on concrete benches or sills, obviously having given up hope of escape. There was no food; I wondered how long they could have been there. Two extremely dusty large women fretted over their appearance, having newly fallen into these passages.
Wandering down one passageway, I came upon a wall of glass that revealed the park I’d fallen from. Through it I could see people strolling, enjoying the sunshine. The green landscaping made such a rich contrast to the uniform drabness of our catacombs and the sunshine filtering through palms and flowers made our catacombs particularly grim. I could hear nothing of the outer world. I beat on the glass trying to attract attention of people sitting and eating only a few feet beyond the panes; without result.
Suddenly, I noticed that I was looking at the backside of that same platform I’d seen before. There to my right was the ladies room door; there before it was the stairs. The people eating sat under green canvas umbrellas just as I’d noticed earlier and the fountain beyond them was just as I remembered it. I knew where I was and wondered how to break through.
A fellow exile nearby commented that nobody else had succeeded in gaining the attention of diners either; it was a waste of effort to try. A few of us were gazing idly at this otherworldly scene; most were indifferent and just sitting on cement benches. We were like inmates, imprisoned by an unseen warden.
Exploring further, I turned a little corner, and noticed something new; a wooden step and parquet hall. Glancing around, wondering if I’d be seized for the effort, I stepped forward and walked, hearing the change in sound under my feet. In a moment, I was among broad leaf bushes, and then suddenly among the passersby of the upper world. I’d escaped! I walked quickly away from that place for a little distance, almost holding my breath, losing myself among the crowd to escape recapture until I realized that there was no pursuit nor had I ever been captured except by myself. That’s when I realized that the underground prison had held no bars, nor guards nor any other restraint, only the lack of exit had imprisoned us all. It was in fact a puzzle, a game, a maze built to entertain, but deliberately made without explanation to challenge the mind. The fact that it was a hidden puzzle was part of puzzle.
I thought of the dejected people trapped without understanding and determined to help them. I returned to the shafts some distance away across the park. Paper and pen in hand, I leapt down.
There were the lost souls once again. A few wryly smiling at my misfortune, themselves sharing in my loss. I said nothing. I knew there was an exit somewhere ahead, but could not yet be certain of finding it easily; I began to draw. I could not yet be certain of the scale, so I paced the length of the room and recorded it’s shape. Each corridor and shaft joined my map, building up a picture of our prison over several hour’s time. Eventually, I came to the room with the glass wall, still showing diners beyond it, still showing glum inmates within. Still I held my peace, walking over to the tight corner I’d earlier turned, noting how it blended into the corner of the room, invisible until one stood right there looking for it. I sketched that as well.
Again outside, I found a photocopier and made a few dozen copies of my map, then headed across the park once again. My goal was not simply to rescue those who had fallen, but to populate the catacombs with directions to allow future victims to find their way, long after I’d gone my way.
From here, it became a matter of convincing others that there was hope. I brought refugees with me as I retraced my steps through the grey labyrinth, but some would not believe me and remained behind. I left a map in every room I passed through, the throng at my back growing along the way.
-------------
My dream brings to mind the contrast between three elements: 1) positional authority; 2) charismatic leadership; and 3) command/control. Positional authority has to do with titles and official status. Charisma is the stuff of natural born leaders (transformational leaders, in the literature). Command/control is about plotting strategy, actually “knowing” what’s going on.
My map represents the command/control part of being a leader. It offers concrete guidance, which, if obeyed, will yield a constructive result. My ability (or inability) to convince people that my map was worth following was the measure of my charisma. I lacked any official title (a uniform that proclaimed “rescuer!” would have helped).
Herein are the dynamics of leadership: Natural born leaders achieve a following whether or not they actually know what they’re talking about. “Born leaders” efficiently lead people out of catacombs (when the leader knows how to escape) and can get people killed when all they have is charisma. Clueless, charismatic leaders have historically led a lot of people right over cliffs (Ronald Reagan and Adolf Hitler both led by force of personality). Likewise, command/control is powerful when it’s accurate, but it depends upon the faith of people to follow it. An accurate map is a life saver, but only if others will follow it.
I have worked for people holding leadership positions who lacked charisma and who were clueless (the worst of both worlds). I have worked for natural born leaders who were clueless (the most dangerous combination, because they were positionaly in charge, and were charismatic leaders, but were badly informed so they made stupid decisions). I have worked for leaders who were not especially charismatic, but I leaned to trust their direction as I came to recognize their knowledge ability. Rarely, I have worked for a leader who was positionally in charge, was charismatic, and well informed. I would like to work for a natural born leader, but I think I would prefer a leader who relies on getting his facts straight than a leader who relies on his charm. I’d rather follow a leader with a well informed vision than one who consistently uses his force of personality to get his way (however ill informed that may be).
There are not many natural born leaders out there, but plenty of people who can be trained to be well informed. Charismatic or otherwise, leadership training should not center on honing charisma as much as it should focus on clarity of thought. Both actually, are needed. Good people skills make clear direction easier to follow.
It seems to me that too many good people don’t consider themselves to be leaders who actually are leaders. The quiet technician is deferred to by others who can’t solve a technical problem. He holds no positional authority and is not charismatic, but nevertheless in the context of problem solving is deferred to as the leader. A wise positional leader recognizes this and willingly creates opportunities for each team member to exercise leadership in turn, “empowering” them according to task. Many people would shun burden of positional authority but who also appreciate being empowered according to task. Charismatic leaders can encourage such team mates, refusing to overshadow and dominate, building loyalty in such followers by respecting their contribution. Positional authority leaders, charismatic leaders, and command/control leaders are all leaders in their own way. All of them deserve respect for their contribution.
Somehow, I fell. I found myself at the bottom on the shaft; miraculously unharmed, but far beyond help. Looking around, I was in an underground room, barren of furnishings, carved from rock and painted light grey. The light from the shaft supplemented indirect lighting; the room was easy to see in. It was really more like a wide corridor than a room. Then I noticed the people.
There were a few lost souls down there with me, some dressed as well as the people above us had been, others dusty from their fall. We were all trapped together. I wandered down the corridor, noting that the walls had become uniformly smooth and straight, built with sheetrock facing and occasional cupboard doors and doorways. Every door I tried revealed either empty shelves or was locked. Along the way I found people here in there, sitting somewhat glumly on concrete benches or sills, obviously having given up hope of escape. There was no food; I wondered how long they could have been there. Two extremely dusty large women fretted over their appearance, having newly fallen into these passages.
Wandering down one passageway, I came upon a wall of glass that revealed the park I’d fallen from. Through it I could see people strolling, enjoying the sunshine. The green landscaping made such a rich contrast to the uniform drabness of our catacombs and the sunshine filtering through palms and flowers made our catacombs particularly grim. I could hear nothing of the outer world. I beat on the glass trying to attract attention of people sitting and eating only a few feet beyond the panes; without result.
Suddenly, I noticed that I was looking at the backside of that same platform I’d seen before. There to my right was the ladies room door; there before it was the stairs. The people eating sat under green canvas umbrellas just as I’d noticed earlier and the fountain beyond them was just as I remembered it. I knew where I was and wondered how to break through.
A fellow exile nearby commented that nobody else had succeeded in gaining the attention of diners either; it was a waste of effort to try. A few of us were gazing idly at this otherworldly scene; most were indifferent and just sitting on cement benches. We were like inmates, imprisoned by an unseen warden.
Exploring further, I turned a little corner, and noticed something new; a wooden step and parquet hall. Glancing around, wondering if I’d be seized for the effort, I stepped forward and walked, hearing the change in sound under my feet. In a moment, I was among broad leaf bushes, and then suddenly among the passersby of the upper world. I’d escaped! I walked quickly away from that place for a little distance, almost holding my breath, losing myself among the crowd to escape recapture until I realized that there was no pursuit nor had I ever been captured except by myself. That’s when I realized that the underground prison had held no bars, nor guards nor any other restraint, only the lack of exit had imprisoned us all. It was in fact a puzzle, a game, a maze built to entertain, but deliberately made without explanation to challenge the mind. The fact that it was a hidden puzzle was part of puzzle.
I thought of the dejected people trapped without understanding and determined to help them. I returned to the shafts some distance away across the park. Paper and pen in hand, I leapt down.
There were the lost souls once again. A few wryly smiling at my misfortune, themselves sharing in my loss. I said nothing. I knew there was an exit somewhere ahead, but could not yet be certain of finding it easily; I began to draw. I could not yet be certain of the scale, so I paced the length of the room and recorded it’s shape. Each corridor and shaft joined my map, building up a picture of our prison over several hour’s time. Eventually, I came to the room with the glass wall, still showing diners beyond it, still showing glum inmates within. Still I held my peace, walking over to the tight corner I’d earlier turned, noting how it blended into the corner of the room, invisible until one stood right there looking for it. I sketched that as well.
Again outside, I found a photocopier and made a few dozen copies of my map, then headed across the park once again. My goal was not simply to rescue those who had fallen, but to populate the catacombs with directions to allow future victims to find their way, long after I’d gone my way.
From here, it became a matter of convincing others that there was hope. I brought refugees with me as I retraced my steps through the grey labyrinth, but some would not believe me and remained behind. I left a map in every room I passed through, the throng at my back growing along the way.
-------------
My dream brings to mind the contrast between three elements: 1) positional authority; 2) charismatic leadership; and 3) command/control. Positional authority has to do with titles and official status. Charisma is the stuff of natural born leaders (transformational leaders, in the literature). Command/control is about plotting strategy, actually “knowing” what’s going on.
My map represents the command/control part of being a leader. It offers concrete guidance, which, if obeyed, will yield a constructive result. My ability (or inability) to convince people that my map was worth following was the measure of my charisma. I lacked any official title (a uniform that proclaimed “rescuer!” would have helped).
Herein are the dynamics of leadership: Natural born leaders achieve a following whether or not they actually know what they’re talking about. “Born leaders” efficiently lead people out of catacombs (when the leader knows how to escape) and can get people killed when all they have is charisma. Clueless, charismatic leaders have historically led a lot of people right over cliffs (Ronald Reagan and Adolf Hitler both led by force of personality). Likewise, command/control is powerful when it’s accurate, but it depends upon the faith of people to follow it. An accurate map is a life saver, but only if others will follow it.
I have worked for people holding leadership positions who lacked charisma and who were clueless (the worst of both worlds). I have worked for natural born leaders who were clueless (the most dangerous combination, because they were positionaly in charge, and were charismatic leaders, but were badly informed so they made stupid decisions). I have worked for leaders who were not especially charismatic, but I leaned to trust their direction as I came to recognize their knowledge ability. Rarely, I have worked for a leader who was positionally in charge, was charismatic, and well informed. I would like to work for a natural born leader, but I think I would prefer a leader who relies on getting his facts straight than a leader who relies on his charm. I’d rather follow a leader with a well informed vision than one who consistently uses his force of personality to get his way (however ill informed that may be).
There are not many natural born leaders out there, but plenty of people who can be trained to be well informed. Charismatic or otherwise, leadership training should not center on honing charisma as much as it should focus on clarity of thought. Both actually, are needed. Good people skills make clear direction easier to follow.
It seems to me that too many good people don’t consider themselves to be leaders who actually are leaders. The quiet technician is deferred to by others who can’t solve a technical problem. He holds no positional authority and is not charismatic, but nevertheless in the context of problem solving is deferred to as the leader. A wise positional leader recognizes this and willingly creates opportunities for each team member to exercise leadership in turn, “empowering” them according to task. Many people would shun burden of positional authority but who also appreciate being empowered according to task. Charismatic leaders can encourage such team mates, refusing to overshadow and dominate, building loyalty in such followers by respecting their contribution. Positional authority leaders, charismatic leaders, and command/control leaders are all leaders in their own way. All of them deserve respect for their contribution.