Start a Meeting with a Poem

I recently listened to a TED podcast featuring poet Billy Collins former Poet Laureate for the  United States.  The topic was the creative process and during the discussion he made a simple statement:

Start a meeting with a poem.

When we gather together at meetings often we are not centered and focused on the discussion at hand.  Distractions … thoughts of other tasks, what to have for lunch, and just about anything outside of the meeting space fill our minds.  We question the need to meet at all.

Poetry ReadingAn experienced leader knows all this and will typically work to focus the meeting participants at the beginning of the meeting.  As well-intentioned a discussion on meeting objectives and goals, the pattern returns and distractions again creep back.

An experienced and wise leader recognizes the need to go bold at times.  For the right meeting, at the right time … open the meeting with a poem.

The uniqueness of this act alone will gather the attention of the participants.  The wandering mind will find what it seeks right there in the room.

Beyond this uniqueness, every poem is open for interpretation by each who listens.  “What do you think?  How do you feel?  How does this poem relate to our meeting topic here today?”   As the meeting leader, imagine asking these questions.

I believe poets are everywhere, but most are not aware.  By introducing a poem to kick off a meeting, you tap into that undercurrent flowing in each of us and between us.

The goal of meetings is to establish understanding and agreement.  A poem can serve to open the vessel of uncommon thought circling the room.   The wise leader then proceeds to gather the circles in tight and assure a common understanding on the topic at hand.  The meeting is a success.

As a leader can you see yourself beginning a meeting with a poem?  Yes, I can.

Here is a wonderful video interpretation of a Billy Collins poem, Some Days.  And yes, a good poem for the right meeting.

Framed Ballerina

Years ago my family was staying with friends and my young son had to sleep in a strange bedroom.   That night he called out for me.   When I got to his room he was upset, crying and pointing at the wall.  He cried out, “Monster, Monster.  Daddy it is a Monster.”  As I cleared my head and looked at the wall I saw a framed photo of a ballerina.   While some might fear ballerinas much like clowns, it was the furthest thing from a monster.

As I tried to convince my son that a ballerina is indeed not a monster, I thought about the experience.  My son was teaching me about the power of perception and how we constantly interpret the world around us.

As adults, focused on building our organizations to operate at a high level, we need at times to check our perceptions.  In groups we need the space to challenge our mental models.

It is not just a child’s perception.  Some people see monsters where the rest of us see ballerinas.

Not being able to sleep, I decided to write.  Specifically a short poem inspired by my young son, scared of monsters in his bedroom.  A lesson for us adults to be aware of our perceptions.

Framed Ballerina

Monster, Monster on the wall.

A child’s fear and a parent’s concern.

Monster, Monster on the wall.

A child’s imagination and a parent’s confusion.

Monster, monster on the wall.

A child’s truth and a parent’s deception.

Thursday Thought – The Bridge Builder

Note: Each Thursday I will post a little something to inspire us to finish the week strong. These Thursday Thoughts will be a quote, piece of music, artwork, poetry, or inspirational video.  Congratulations, you made it over the hump and let’s finish the week together.

For today a poem that speaks to WeMoveTogether.    The poet is Will Allen Dromgoole (1860 – 1934) an American Poet and writer from Tennessee.

The Bridge Builder

An old man going a lone highway,

Came, at the evening cold and gray,

To a chasm vast and deep and wide.

Through which was flowing a sullen tide

The old man crossed in the twilight dim,

The sullen stream had no fear for him;

But he turned when safe on the other side

And built a bridge to span the tide.

 

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,

“You are wasting your strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day,

You never again will pass this way;

You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide,

Why build this bridge at evening tide?”

 

The builder lifted his old gray head;

“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,

“There followed after me to-day

A youth whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm that has been as naught to me

To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!”