Co-Constructing an Annual Meeting

Ivan Inger and Jeri Inger

The process of writing this article about our process as Co-Chairs is reflective of our year long endeavor to find ways to cooperate, disagree, contradict, demur, argue, and come to consensus or know when to allow the other to prevail. The word, dominate, would be too harsh an attribution to make about the other, even though, from time to time, each of us felt the other was dominating about one thing or the other.

In trying to write this article, one of us took the lead and began. The other did not like the tone of the piece. It was too light, too humorous. The writing needed to be more serious. So, the other of us sat down at the computer and tried to construct a completely different piece, one that did not sound too light hearted. After all, it was a rather serious meeting with all kinds of presentations about how difficult life and relationships are, personal and professional. But, it was also a meeting about inspiration and hope, about connections among people. So, the serious article did not work either. One of us edited it to pieces. We had to find a way to complete our work as co-chair of the 2002 Annual Meeting. Who was going to do it? We were, after all, co-chair. This meant we had to collaborate and come up with a piece that represented our collective view. Here it is.

First, we want to discuss the idea of what process is all about for us. We consider process to mean moving (pro) forward (cess). But, process (moving forward) is only one part of how meaning is constructed. The other major ingredient is "content" which we consider to be holding (con) together (tent). For over a year we struggled with moving forward (and backward at times) and holding together (and moving apart), both the program and our relationship. We moved along a multidimensional grid of the flow of process and content, and along the grid of symmetry and complementarity. Sometimes we felt certain and safe about a particular idea, sometimes safe but uncertain, sometimes we felt unsafe but certain and sometimes unsafe and uncertain. (Thanks to our friend and new AFTA member from London, Barry Mason, we have a language for this oscillation).

It was the proverbial roller coaster ride all the way. A few times one or the other of us got whiplash, which was the signal for the other to do some tender loving caring, and to try to slow down the ride. There were a few times toward the end when that was not possible, so we had to hold onto each other for dear life while sliding down the slippery slope.

Often some of our colleagues were willing to ride with us, and sometimes even to lead us through the unsafe/uncertain moments. It was truly comforting and allowed us to move forward (process) and continue taking risks in constructing the program (content). We have immeasurable appreciation for the help we received from members and staff along the way.

Looking back at the beginning of this moving forward and backward and holding together experience, we remember the surprise phone call from Janine Roberts on February 11, 2001, when she asked us to take on the project of putting together the 2002 program at Asilomar Conference Grounds in California. She reminded us that six months prior we had congratulated her on becoming the President of AFTA and that we had said casually, that we would be happy to help. This was not the job we had in mind. But, truth be told, we are always looking around for projects to do together and working as a team on a project that stimulates our thinking and has a creative edge. That is our passion. And we had a year and a half to do it. That is the gestation period of an elephant. We ought to be able to produce a meeting.

We were moving along the planning path from February to October believing the Annual Meeting was going to be in California. Who would have predicted a 9/11? Don’t answer that. It happened, and it had a profound effect on the membership, the Board, and on us. At the Board meeting, the weekend of October 4th, a group of us were sitting around a table with a large sheet of white paper writing down ways to change the Annual Meeting in response to 9/11. At about 1AM it was clear to those of us who were still there that a bold move was in order. We immediately had a consensus that the Annual Meeting had to be in New York City. The next day the Board took up the question and a consensus was reached that we move the meeting to New York City.

The Board consensus launched a frenzy of activity. We created a New York Local Arrangements committee, called Diane Campbell, and a New York hotel broker who started looking for a hotel that day. It turned out to be much more difficult than any of us had expected. We had to announce to our members that the venue had changed, before we had secured a hotel. Scary. We also had to revise some of the plans to fit the city scene. Luckily, the theme,"Reflection, Connection and Action in a Changing World" was more relevant than ever, as were several of our plenary speakers.

One of the big decisions that was made at 1AM at the Board Meeting, was to open up the Annual Meeting to nonmembers for a day on the subject of trauma and resilience. It made perfect sense. Saturday would be a tribute to New York, to victims of terror, to workers who spend their lives ameliorating the pain and suffering of those who are in harm’s way, and as a forum for our members to be witness to the world of terror and trauma in places like Kosovo, Africa, and Northern Ireland. There was a lot of uncertainty about how we could make this work. Thanks to the creativity and perseverance of many people, including the staff, our Local arrangements committee, and the patience, understanding and guidance of Janine Roberts, it happened.

Our process included finding ways to hold the tensions inherent in such an effort, while, at the same time, continuing to move on. We tried to find ways to disagree between ourselves, and with others, and to continue to work from a collaborative position. We realized how delicate that process was and that we would make mistakes. Yet, we knew that final decisions and responsibilities would be on our shoulders despite all the collaboration and support. Often, we felt like we were dangling from a long rope, swaying in the breeze. Self-doubt surfaced, there was much debate about who would prevail, much angst about whether we actually knew what we were doing. We mustered enough “chutzpah” to stay the course. The meeting was ours to make or break. Breaking it was out of the question.

We were perking along until mid-March when Linda Biehl called to tell us Peter was in the ICU and his prognosis was poor. He had colon cancer. He died within two weeks. This was a tragedy. We talked with Linda frequently. She decided to come to New York with Easy Nofomela and Ntobeko Peni as planned. This was going to be a courageous effort on the part of the three of them. Things settled down again for a while, until on May 9th, when Ivan was diagnosed with colon cancer, He had surgery on May 14. The roller coaster was moving fast; it was out of control. We were in free fall. Down we went, holding onto each other tightly. We dropped out of the planning process until a week or two before the Annual Meeting. The roller coaster was finally coming to a resting place. The acute trauma was subsiding, now only the waiting and wondering was noticeable, palpable. Some things seemed to normalize, other things would not ever be normalized, routinized, taken for granted again. We had to be at the meeting. The planning had consumed us for over a year, we were too passionate about what was going to take place to miss it. We arranged with the Oncologist to take an extra week off from chemotherapy in order to go to the meeting. Would the side effects debilitate Ivan? The Oncologist reassured us that the worst thing that could happen would be that Ivan would be in the middle of presenting something and have to go to the bathroom. That never happened.

Our process was not a single process, but a series of holographic processes all impinging and influencing one another. It was a lesson in complexity. Complexity theory informs us there are too many elements that contribute to the whole for us to ever know how it all came together. Spirituality teaches us to be respectful of the process and it will come together with a coherence of its own making, and that faith in the process is part of the process itself. Science teaches us to forever long for certainty, but to know it will not happen, because one answer will lead exponentially to more questions than you can answer in a lifetime. Uncertainty is immanent within any phenomenon.

Thanks to all of you who helped make the 2002 Annual Meeting a coherent whole.

Ivan and Jeri Inger are in private practice in Portland, Oregon.