More human facilitation, please
a shift from perfection to presence
At some point in the last 4 years I started to own the identity of Facilitator.
I couldn’t tell you the exact moment this happened, as I didn’t complete a Masters degree or do a mediation training. Best I can trace, I started organizing events in my living room inspired by my own desire for more intentional connection, and as those grew, friends started asking me to co-create things with them.
I also attended an amazing social impact fellowship called Starting Bloc that was a huge influence and was the first time I was getting theory, practices, and language for this thing I had intuitively done since youth. Yes, I was actually designated as the playground conflict manager in the 1st grade 🫢.
Facilitation as a role is kinda hard to pin down. It’s one of those nebulous things where many people in many different roles are facilitators. A manager might be a facilitator. A principal is also a facilitator (hopefully). A curator. A diplomat.
A definition I’ve come to is:
Facilitators are guides brought into groups to help move a project or goal along. What a coach is to an individual, a facilitator is to a group. Facilitators are not teachers (though a great majority of teachers are expert facilitators) and they are not gurus with answers—Facilitators are curious guides that use a variety of techniques to shepherd a conversation and harness the wisdom and experience of the room. They bring out the best of what is already there. They bring synthesis, clarity, focus, and a maybe even a plan forward.
Since leaving my job last year, I have been doing a lot more facilitating. First off, let me just say YAY! because I am so happy to be doing more of what I love. Second, more consistency in facilitating means more opportunities to learn and notice things about myself, the practice in general, and how people behave in groups.
One of the things I’ve noticed is that going into facilitation opportunities nowadays, I feel a lot more at ease than I used to. I’m sure that some of that is related to doing a lot more of this work on a regular basis. But the other part, that feels really exciting to me, as it’s a marker of my own growth:
I am less worried about things going perfectly and more concerned with showing up as I am.
When I was younger “acing it” meant hitting every bullet point, saying every smart thing I had prepared, never stuttering or missing a beat.
Now, “a job well done,” feels qualified by how present I was. Was I attuned to other’s needs? Did I know how I was feeling during the session? Was I able to pivot in the moments when the room called for something different than what I’d planned for?
As I was writing this newsletter, I decided it would be fun and even more interesting if I interviewed my friend, Michaële Antoine, who is a Facilitator, Speaker, Coach, and Founder of Curios Consulting. Her and I met at Starting Bloc, where I met more than one beloved. We’ve been pulling threads, unpacking our feels (definitely venting), exploring, and building things together ever since.
Listen below as we discuss Michaële’s definition of facilitation (and Google’s 😅), what led her to this path, her pre-rituals and inspirations, and a bit about control, which led us to pulling on threads around planning, attunement, and presence.
Every time we chat I am reminded how much I love Michaële’s brain.
Back in COVID times, she and I actually created and co-facilitated a virtual event series called Sunday Sessions, and it was in our first session that this seed around human facilitation was planted. We had invited AJ Bond, a shame researcher, speaker, and author, to talk to the group about shame — how it works, how it’s disarmed, and how we might get closer to unpleasant emotions.
Right as we started the call, AJ modeled this as he introduced himself and then named that he was feeling really nervous.
This might seem like a small thing, but it was the first time (that I clocked, at least) that a facilitator/teacher/guide named a “negative” emotion coming into an event. For me, something powerful clicked.
AJ was a human. And in reminding me of his own humanness, I felt mine and realized it was fine to be nervous and that others in the room probably were, too. Being present, being authentic, and not being afraid to say the weird/awkward/uncomfortable thing —especially as the person guiding the room—creates opportunity for connection, resonance, safety, and most importantly and sets the tone that we can be ourselves here.
In her book, Emergent Strategy (which let’s be honest, is BIBLE to me), adrienne maree brown, puts forth the principle of presence over planning.
When I’m caught up in a plan (in facilitation, but also in life) it can create a rigidity and short-sightedness that might cause me to miss the chance to actually be in the room, with the people. I can remember being younger and literally feeling like I had blacked out during a presentation or interview. Usually I’d done well (meaning I’d landed the thing or got a good grade) but I was also a disembodied robot regurgitating facts or quotes I’d memorized.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence, that I also felt a lack of belonging for much of my earlier life. In her chapter on Interdependence and Decentralization, brown introduces the concept of the “charismatic leader.” This is the shining star who gets all the attention in an organization or group, who often gets appointed to lead, because of their ability to demand a room’s attention. (Michaële and I chat about this too, and how we might be able to harness the power of the “charismatic leader” while still being authentic).
It sounds really flashy and cool, at first, but actually it’s a super lonely, isolated, and not very stimulating place to be. amb talks about how the “charasmatic leader” often takes on a heavy work load, gets easily overwhelmed, and may miss some of the most interesting ideas that are held by other people in the room because they are prioritizing having it all together and having the answers themselves.
This has definitely been me, especially in high school and college, and I am so grateful that resources like Emergent Strategy, Starting Bloc, and facilitators and friends, have led me to a facilitation style that is more grounded, embodied, and focussed on bringing out the wisdom of the room.
I want to close out with adrienne maree brown’s principles of Emergent Strategy (seriously, just get the book) because they are certainly a roadmap for me, and they might offer something to you and your work and life, too.
Small is good, small is all. (The large is a reflection of the small).
Change is constant. (Be like water).
There is always enough time for the right work.
There is a conversation in the room that only these people at this moment can have. Find it.
Never a failure, always a lesson.
Trust the People. (If you trust the people, they become trustworthy.)
Move at the speed of trust. Focus on critical connections more than critical mass — build the resilience by building the relationships.
Less prep, more presence.
What you pay attention to grows.
I’m learning there’s a way more interesting journey beyond performing what you think others want to experience you as. What will emerge for me as I continue to let authenticity be my north star? What about for you?
One thing I’ve noticed so far…the more I’m truly myself in life and in facilitation, the more I feel like I belong. People actually respond to you being as you are — or at least the people who are supposed to find you — do.
Until next time,
Jasmine
Curious about what I’ve been up to? Here’s a few ways I’ve been holding space.
Hosting weekly writing circles with Foster.
During these circles, we provide space for folks to access their creativity without fear or judgment—we write simply for the sake of it. My favorite part is that we start each circle with a Somatic check-in, naming sensations, feelings, cravings that are with us as we enter the space — however pleasant or unpleasant. Participants might be working on journal entries, letters, text messages, poems, essays, or free writes—it’s all welcome. I host a private circle each Tuesday (for Foster members) and then public circles every few weeks. Join a free public writing circle if this sounds like something you’d enjoy!
Teaching yoga at Shambhala Yoga & Dance.
I was certified to teach in 2015, and taught while living in LA, but since moving to the city teaching yoga wasn’t a part of my story, mostly because I didn’t have the time and I had a different set of priorities and motivations for moving here. Part of why I left my full-time gig was because I’d lost my sense of embodiment. I was craving connection with people that was more being-centered and less “here’s what I do for work” centered. I’ve been going to Shambhala for years and have always admired their community and the ways that they walk the walk. After many whispers nudging me to apply, I decided to audition and here I am teaching again! While I don’t have a designated class currently, I sub usually once a week (look out for my name on the schedule — we do virtual classes for my non-NYers!) and I teach community classes that are donation-based on the weekends.
I led a group discussion for Idealist’s Social Impact Supper Club on Interdependence based on the work of adrienne maree brown.
My friend (Hi, Tim! 😊) who organizes Idealist’s SISC dinners asked me if I’d be open to facilitating a conversation for the group after I’d recommended Emergent Strategy to him during one of our first conversations. 35 or so of us sat with and used amb’s personal learnings around interdependence:
Be Seen
Be Wrong
Accept Your Inner Multitudes
Ask For And Receive What I Need
We used her learnings to unpack our own perceptions of interdependence and to workshop how to play with these concepts in our safest relationships, as a starting point, for a more far reaching practice of interdependence in ours futures.
I officiated my first wedding!
I’ve been doing day-of wedding coordination when the opportunities have presented themself, but two weeks ago I got to marry my best friend of 26 years to her beloved. It was deep a honor to be the one to tell their story and guide them into the rituals that would seal their commitment.
