People Grow
In the 1980s the popularity of tap dance seemed to be on the rise again. There was tap dancing on Broadway, in films, in the concert dance world, and in theatre. Shows were popping up everywhere. The kind of dancing being presented was diverse. It spanned the spectrum from nostalgia to cutting edge experimentation.
Just a few days ago, an older gentleman approached me after a show. He mentioned that he was in his 80s, and hadn’t seen tap dancing since his days as a much younger man. He recounted a story of seeing young kids dancing on a boardwalk. “They didn’t even have the right shoes!” he exclaimed, “But seeing them made me want to dance, too.” He shared how he later learned a little jig. “It wasn’t tap dancing, but it was something,” he said with a grin. Seeing me dance had reminded him of all of that in an instant.
Nostalgia and memory are curious topics. There is a strong pull towards the goodness that we remember in the past. There can often be an equally strong pull towards a compelling vision of the future. In the middle is the experience of grief that seems to happen when significant change occurs.
When I was growing up as a tap dancer I was immersed in the tradition through many loving apprenticeships. I was not alone in this context, others have had similar experiences. I was fairly unique in the number of people who decided I was worth investing in. For every mentor I had, I experienced a similar cycle:
A time of enthusiasm and encouragement
A time of correction and sharpening
A time of letting go and the creation of space to experiment on my own
The shift from one time to another was jarring. I so enjoyed the time I was in, I didn’t want it to change. During each shift, my relationship with each of my mentors would also change. I often thought I had done something wrong. Why else would they begin to treat me differently? Why would this person whom I love, and who used to encourage me, now be telling me about everything I should be doing differently? Why would they then tell me to stop dancing like them? I didn’t realize they were guiding me to a launch. I didn’t know they were helping me to have the tools to discover all that was inside me, on my own, and learn how to share it. Of course, they knew more about the process of growth that I would need to survive as a tap dancer than I did. I couldn’t have known. In the moment, the changes were hard. In retrospect, I’m thankful for all that my mentors guided me through.
This mentorship cycle is common in the apprenticeship model, but what about in other areas of life. What about organizational management, schools, other institutions, or when working with children?
“Living things grow, and growing things change.” – Tri Robinson
A friend and fellow artist and educator, Jessie Nilo, hipped me to this quote. There can be a tendency in leadership to desire some level of consistency. Like a painter needs to trust that the colors of their paints are consistent, leaders want to be able to trust that their people are consistent. I recall one definition of professionalism as being able to do the same thing twice, being attributed to Dizzy Gillespie, the famous jazz trumpeter. Business requires consistent outcomes. That consistency is what engenders trust with investors, clients, and employees, contractors, and partners. This brings up a significant dichotomy.
If we work in the market, we are required to develop skills of craft and life that allow us to have consistency (doing and being the same thing), and to do that consistently (doing and being the same thing continually). Taking a look at the performing arts is an interesting microcosm in this regard. In the performing arts, the person is the product. For any given show, performing artists are deeply involved in the making of the show. Without the actual person showing up in their specific role the show doesn’t happen. Their personality, physicality, and thoughts and feelings are interwoven into the roles they bring to life on the stage. The exposure is high – performers share themselves with hundreds of complete strangers multiple times a week. The demand is high – seven or eight performances a week on Broadway, for example. The requirement for high quality outcomes is there – did you know that James Brown used to dock his band members’s pay if they missed a single note? He would even call them out for it while on the bandstand!
What happens when the person – under these kinds of requirements – changes? Do they even have room for it? Do they have room to grow?
Some changes are very clear to see. If I move across the country, then the way I relate to people who are already in my life changes. I won’t be able to bump into my former neighbors anymore. If I would like to continue those relationships it will have to be through phone calls, or writing letters, or an intentional visit – but nothing as organic as bumping into each other.
Other changes are not so visible. What if the way someone sees or experiences the world around them changes? This is an inner change – often accompanied by outward manifestations. Inner changes can create the same kind of distance between the person who has changed and all the other people in their lives as outward changes. But they not always so clear to see. Teenagers and their parents often come to arguments on account of inner changes that neither party can always clearly identify. They both recognize something has changed, but require time and effort to identify let alone navigate the change. In living and growing things, inner change is constant. We are always in the process of becoming who we are to become.
In a very simplistic model, we can think of this process of becoming as a journey happening along a spectrum. Envision a spectrum of possible outcomes. On one end of the spectrum is the kind of person who is bitter, contemptuous, filled with anger, and manipulative. On the other end of the spectrum is the kind of person who is filled with love, speaks honestly, is kind and gentle, patient, and self-composed. If curious, we might begin our own journey by considering where we might land on the spectrum for any one of these attributes – in this present moment. Are there areas of our lives in which we see the seeds of bitterness being planted in us rather than those of forgiveness? Are there areas of our lives that have engendered patience in us rather than cynicism? Of course, the process of becoming is much more complex than this. There are many things at play. But being able to envision where we are and where we might be going is a way into the process. Engaging in the process is one key to becoming more aware of what is actually going on – our own growth and the growth of those around us.
Imagine thinking of our day as the activity we get to undertake to work out who we might become. Imagine focusing on how each occurrence in a day can help us (through encouragement, correction, or in recognizing our own limitations, for example) become the kind of person who is really good.
Being able to define that person – the person we envision ourselves becoming – is key. Cultivating a vision for a future goal is integral to conscious growth. That is, the kind of growth that we are intentionally involved in. We can envision the goal and make intentional choices towards that vision with the means we have access to. The alternative is unconscious growth, or a path of growth in which we are not aware of even our own ability to engage the process, make choices, and have a say (to whatever extent we realistically can) in who we might become.
Deeper still.
A large part of the teachings of Jesus speak to the real possibility of inner transformation of the person. However, that possibility is predicated on a particular reality. That reality includes a real and active God; persons who are like God but not God (we can call them image bearers); persons with the ability to choose, to have a sphere of influence, and the ability to work inwardly and outwardly; and persons who are often predisposed (for a multitude of reasons) to think and do things that are not rooted in goodness. In this reality, transformation of the person is something that happens for the person with God, as the person follows Jesus – Jesus here being the model for a really good person. Following Jesus may be described as the practice of beginning to act as if everything Jesus said was true (thanks to Dallas Willard for this definition). Of course, if we attempt to do this without God acting with us we will quickly land on our faces. Therefore, being with God may be described as the practice of relying on God acting in order for us to do the things Jesus said were true.
Like any other process of growth (and subsequent change), this process is progressive. We can read the accounts of the earliest followers of Jesus to gain some insight into how they grew. Maybe that will help us understand where we are in our current growth, what we can focus on to intentionally move forward in a good way, and have a clearer vision of what the end might look like for us.
Of course, attempting to live someone else’s life is a futile pursuit. It simply doesn’t work. We can learn a lot from others, but we have to honor the wonderful uniqueness of who we are. Our context, personality, limitations and opportunities are all amazingly specific to us. It is exceptionally important to note that even as followers (and this can be applied to any act of following), the process of individuation – discovering and working out the peculiarities of your journey – is very important. Each of us is unique. We are put in this time and place for a particular purpose with regards to God’s project of redeeming the entire world. As much as the project is about the entire world, each of us is an unimaginably significant and specific part of it.
Being engaged in our individual growth – who we are becoming with God – is the primary work we have before us. In focusing here, everything else can change. Our ability to experience a really good life can increase. Our ability to support other’s growth can amplify. Our impact in our sphere of influence for good can become more likely. Not because of any direct effort, but because of who we have become, and the natural outflow of our being. I deeply believe that being good, doing the right thing, mediating peace, fighting for justice with love – all difficult things in and of themselves – can be done with ease…but only if we grow.