If Transition were as Popular as Online Games

Imagine if Transition initiatives had the kind of energy put into them that online games do. We'd accelerate transition awesomely.

The numbers for involvement, and that's passionate eye-popping engagement, not checking a box on a screen, are astonishing to me (a non-gamer until very recently). Take just one of the more popular role playing games, World of Warcraft. It has 11.5 paid subscribers who play about 210 million hours / week. Since the game was initiated in 2004 people have played about 50 billion hours with sweat pouring off them from positive stress, trying to – succeeding at – improving the skill and powers of their online avatar (their representative in the online world).

Fifty billion hours? Even the fact that WoW knows exactly, exactly, how many hours have been spent is telling. How many hours have been spent on Ttransition initiatives? There's no way of knowing at all, but I'm sure, and I'm sure you'll agree it's way way less than 50 billion. And if all online games were counted the number would doubtless be somewhere over a trillion (of course this is over more years than transition).

World of Warcraft and many other role playing games are in the business of saving the world in one form another, an epic adventure, just as, in its modest way, Transition is. I've been reading about games lately in a wonderful book by Jane McGonigal called Reality is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World. She's a young game developer who wrote her Ph. D thesis on games. You can watch her TED talk or check out her website.

In the book she says that a game has four essential characteristics. It's a natural to wonder if they can't be used to make Transition have more of the appeal of a game. I think they can, but it's not as simple as flipping a switch. There's something powerful in the ways that games can be used to influence reality, and many game developers are acutely aware of this. For example, development labs look like psychology labs with testing on just what positive emotions can be most directly elicited.

The four characteristics or a game are: a goal, rules, a feedback system, and voluntary participation. Let's look at them in turn with a few thoughts as to how Transition might start to share some of the game star status.

A Goal

A game goal is irrefutably concrete and directly visible. Get that ball over that line, put the puck in the net, get the sword from the stone of Alcazar and bring it to Carlingwood in time for Christmas. You get the idea. It's done or not done. And when it's done you get a reward of some kind, a point up on the board, a badge / new power for your avatar. Transition's goals are less clear. They often require us to step forward and make the goal itself, with no clear acknowledgement when that's done.

There's nothing that means that Transition's goals have to be invented by each initiative. The goals themselves could be a collaborative project that Transitioners everywhere work toward.

Feedback System

A game needs to show you how you're doing, and the sooner the better. In hockey, having the puck and being close to the other team's net show you where you are. Online games excel at this. They might have instant points for killing something, a complex grading system for your avatar based on what you've accomplished (including your ability to cooperate with others in joint “raids” or whatever); in online games the avatar looks different as you “level up”, and full and complete stats are instantly available to all on what you've done.

Transition has a weak feedback system, based on background noticing on who's doing what. There could be, for example, a series of steps within each project and a monthly recognition of the project that accomplished more of their steps. Or perhaps an annual goal for each project with progress visually there on each site.

If this evolved across the Transition network so much the better. “Epic” scales rule.

Rules

In games, the essence is that anyone can pick up the ball and go all the way. You can't mess with the rules of Scrabble: either it's a word or it isn't; a letter has the value it has and that's it. The rules rule.

In human organizations, human group psychology rules which means that unconscious power dynamics rule. In other words we start off following rules we don't know we're following, rules we mistake for reality.

For most of us that means power in an organization -  or a world -  comes from the top down. In Transition, the rules for initiating and taking responsibility for projects need to be made explicit and clear, important given human's exquisite sensitivity to “who's in charge here” thinking and our unwillingness to break social mores.

It's precisely because so few know how to break with the prevailing thought process that we humans pretend there's no need for Transition, despite an avalanche of information to the contrary. Our psychology rules.  It's a human reality that we need express permission / invitation to take leadership and ownership of a process, including the Transition process. The default is that we defer and only unusually brave souls or accidental insiders, the friends of leaders, take ownership for parts of the Transition process.

Voluntary Participation

The high rates of game participation flip the thinking that there's not enough involvement. The question is, do we respect how human's think and feel, and work with their psychology, inspiring them to play this game? People are willing tot play. The question is more, are we willing to invite them into a game and show them how to play?

A resilience mind

Sometimes I can see a relocalized local future, a hopeful future, sometimes not. 

You? 

What makes the difference between a hopeful heart and a fearful one, as we contemplate radical change or some form of collapse in our future? I think it's the state of mind or consciousness of the observer, basically how able we are to relate to others and the emerging situation. It's us that's the common link.

And what in our outlook helps us see our way to a future we want to live in? And how can we encourage that?

We're able to see more clearly when we see ourselves as part of and connected to the inside of the social transition we're in. When we're not isolated observers. The old adage “If you're not part of solution you're part of the problem,” could be rewritten here to say “If you're not part of the problem, you're not part of the solution.” (I saw this in Adam Kahane's excellent book on the dynamics of system change, Solving Tough Problems.) If you don't see how you're contributing to the present situation, there's not way for you to connect with others to make it better. You have no skin in the game with your fellows! Then we're left with stockpiling food, with arming ourselves and retreating further.

And that's no fun!

The more we see that our own lives, warts and all, plug us directly into the real issue, the more opportunities we have to work with others who are there with us in order to make it better. And that is fun, though challenging too! (Challenge had better be fun; we'll have plenty of it!)

The desire to play it safe is strong in me. I've often tried to stay outside of conflict and maintain a rational "understanding - and been perceived as distant and controlling. Inside I've felt afraid of seeming incompetent, of looking unable to handle problems that might arise in groups (or the community). Not until I've been willing to not know the answer, or willing to imagine that there is none yet, have I been able to be in touch with, and even enjoy, what's really going on. As any person learns to be a bit more present he or she increases the community resilience that will be so helpful to have as a recourse and resource when trouble comes.

There are a number of things we can do internally, all easier to say than to do. I think that a small group is a wonderful training ground for us to practice these skills. The small group is itself a practice, and a powerful one. When trouble comes, as it will sooner or later, the skills you'll learn of deep listening and being able to speak your truth without blame will help you help those around you move forward. 

One crucial personal skill, it seems to me, is the ability to be with others without making them responsible for how you're feeling. Without getting reactive, in other words. This frees you up to seek common ground with them and to see possibilities that weren't visible before. We actually do have common ground, if we're patient enough to wait and find it.

I try and practice these things: 

Listening to what others have to say without forming a response or what I have to say. Just hearing their story as something valuable for me to know.

Being OK with not knowing what's going to happen next, with not having the right answer. This feels so much more comfortable and effective a position. Nonetheless, I still find myself trying to look good when I feel exposed myself. We all have a deep conditioning to look good so I try not to make this too big a deal.

Recognizing that screwing up is part of the process.

I also do some work with "parts" of me (Big Mind Process or Voice Dialogue), and I find meditation  helpful in clarifying that "I" am not limited to my social self, among other benefits. 

If you don't form or join an intentional small group, then try and notice this. You're already in a small group every time you engage with another. Each small conversation is an opportunity to listen, to “not know what's going to happen,” to be able to take a little risk or a big one, to say what's really on your mind. The small group is just a microcosm in which it's easy to practice all these things, but maybe for you it's later or not at all. 

No problem.

I happen to think that the whole “field” of human consciousness, if I can call it that, is becoming more aware of itself, is already transforming so that the natural intimacy of being real is increasing  (Social media give us a hint of this but social media is not it.) To say this from the opposite side, overall we're becoming less committed to our ego perspective. The relational local future we want is happening already, partly because it's so needed and our unconscious intelligence starts to create it. And it needs all the help it can get, just as we do.

You can start a small group yourself with just one other person. Meet regularly and tell the truth best as you can, that's the key. 

http://www.radicalrelocalization.com/open-source-groups.php

These guys do it nice

Resilience circles: http://localcircles.org/

Three cheers for messy transition!

 Your localization, your transition to  a lower energy use future is unlikely to be a smooooth trip to a pastoral utopia. No, more likely it has a messy side, the celebration of which is subject of this post.

Richard Heinberg`s phrase  "the end of growth" (also this title of his outstanding book) is the shortest possible description of what`s coming. As you likely know, the change that will result from the end of growth will change pretty much everything about pretty much everything. It'll shake-up on how we live, work, travel, and eat. It will challenge our very identity.

One side of the transition to no growth will likely be messy. Messy, messy, messy! I don’t mean that it can`t or won`t be fun and beautiful too  - I think it will be (more about that later). But it can`t help but mess up the neat categories we’ve had and wanted to have for how we imagine our future.

Let me share some of my own messy story.

Radical Relocalization started out very primly and properly on a flush of success and enthusiasm. I moved to the country for a new relationship, started a monthly group there and a newspaper column based on sharing skills for self-sufficient living. Over time, for good reasons, each of these faltered. My partner and I split up, the place I bounced to was difficult. The column ran out of people to interview in our sparsely populated area. And the monthly group chose to be leaderless after a year and a half – I'd been the leader - and people stopped attending.

And at times since I've felt uncomfortable speaking out for relocalization, when my own wasn’t looking so good.

But that`s not the whole story of course. A turnaround came when I created a couple of local places to put out there how it was going for me, and to hear others with their own transition story. It was a safe space for the highs and lows of how we were actually doing. We called it a listening circle (in a nearby town I called it a Learning Circle). From the start this lightened things up, was fun and engaging and a place where new ideas naturally emerged.

The listening circle is a place where we`re hearing more of how it really is for each other, the triumphs and challenges of working our way through transition. It’s not a place for political diatribes, blaming somebody out there for what's not working. The group is safe and respectful, and paradoxically helpful, even though it makes no attempt to fix. Being with a group of people who are transparent with their own `transition` normalizes our own. When it’s safe to be screwed up when screwed up we are, it becomes clear that we’re really not unique in our relocalization challenges. It becomes evident that much of the time we’re invested in stopping something from happening – in putting the brakes on a transition under way. 

The group also demonstrates and important truth, that transition happens partly in a “we” space; it's a collective phenomenon. Part of it happens in an “I” space, too as we rise to meet the challenge with who we uniquely are. Transition is both an Ì`and a `we` phenomenon. Both / and, just like it's messy as well as creative.

Coming out of the listening circle are a number of other projects. At the root of them all is wanting to engage with more people in more ways around transition. I want this for myself for selfish reasons but also because I believe that our very best chance lies in a bigger more inclusive transition story, one that involves my local community more deeply, and more communities of communities.

The best chance of all would be to have a tipping point of people creatively involved in transitioning to a local, sustainable, just world as if their lives depended on it. Which of course, in a real way it does.

That's what I want and the story I'm learning to live in. It's a story that makes room for the mess, embraces the full catastrophe, but steps up to imagine a world that can work for all. A bigger story.

What I want too is more engagement with other transitioners and relocalizers of all stripes.

I'd be very happy if you'd drop a line with anything that's up in your own messy and marvelous transition.

Co-heartedly,
Andrew

P.S. If you're on twitter, I'm @Relocalizer

Transition and Occupy are like two legs

The Transition movement (to a sustainable lower-fossil-fuel economy, that is)and Occupy are like two legs. Together they'll carry us further and more stably than we can hop alone. In a nutshell, Transition has a stronger, more developed analysis and Occupy has greater energy and imagination.

Personally I've had much more experience with Transition but the conversation there hasn't grabbed hold of people like Occupy has. It hasn't got them into the streets; it hasn`t challenged the power structure directly with talk of direct democracy. Occupy provides a visible problem - gross wealth disparity in a time of widespread monetary pain - that a lot of people, even if not quite 99%, relate too. Many feel the financial pain now, or are worried that they are going to feel it soon. When someone stood up and spoke to Transition at an Occupy meeting in the rural area I live in, she was greeted with respectful nods and assent, but it didn't seem to me that Ttransition was where people were living and breathing.

Transition's analysis speaks to our need, as individuals and as a collective, to reduce consumption to sustainable levels and build local economies that can survive the limited external energy inputs we'll have in the future. Most people can't relate powerfully to that yet; though it might seem true, it seems abstract and far away. Even though resource depletion, ratcheting oil prices and falling supply are hidden stories behind our daily news events, they lurk in the shadow. The inevitability of our needing to live within our means hasn't struck home. But for many Occupy does strike home. And it makes friends every day by its continually open come-as-you-are policy to newcomers.

But Occupy's numbers and enthusiasm provide a perfect growing medium for the ideas that Transtion's bringing forward so clearly. Transition needs Occupy's energy; Occupy benefits from Transition's smarts. Personally I see the need for both in my future, and I imagine that the two are going to walk a long way together, to their mutual benefit.

The darker side of relocalization

We're looking at serious challenges, collectively and individually – an illusory economy, very real resource shortfalls. As a society, we're well-conditioned not to deal with these long term problems. So how can we personally address them without getting mired in muck, without playing by someone else's rules?

How can we deal with the darker side without losing sight of the light?

Although I've written about the sunny and dark sides of change I've been playing it safe with the darker one and not shared much about it personally. It's the harder one to live and write about.

I got a good lesson in "dark side living" last month. As some of you know, I've been living in a small off-grid cabin in eastern Ontario, getting to know the land that I bought at the end of July. Apparently December is usually dark and gray but I'd never noticed this from years when power came out of a socket. Low sunlight resulted in my small solar power system, the one that served me perfectly during the fall, not charging my batteries. As a result, quite a bit of the month was spent without lights or computer and I missed them both, the computer especially.

My pride was dinted too when wealthy city visitors dropped in on my very modest 9 x 15 shed-cabin-tiny house-hovel with too many things to fit. Many of us will experience (or are already experiencing) radical downsizing, and it won't always feel great. As relocalizers know consciously, and many others dimly suspect, we're facing a sharp turn in the only way of life we've known. Just how sharp and when it turns, and how we'll know it's turned, are unknowns. That dimunition of lifestyle, and even the threat of it, isn't easy for us.

Living with less is challenging physically and "the simple life" can take up a complicating amount of head space. Swearing off electricity from the grid and other conveniences means making up for it with personal resources and work.

Not only does descent to a smaller footprint change the way we interact with the world physically - how we get food, clothing and shelter - it challenges our psychological and "spiritual" make-up too. Much order and security have been provided for us by the systems we live in: reliable energy, stable government, high-paying jobs, relatively unchanging currency, endless distraction - even the stable climate. As most relocalizers already know, none of these are sure things any more. They all have a best before date stamped on them, one that's difficult to read in the dwindling light of the empire.

This degree of uncertainty requires a high degree of maturity for us humans and many of us just aren't there yet. We struggle on, coping, enduring but at a subtle or not so subtle cost to our pride and sense of identity. That's why I'm a big proponent of the value of groups where it's OK to be doing how we're really doing – and to imagine what we can build together. At their best, when people sense they can risk telling and hearing others' truths, good local groups can provide community and critical insight beyond the sunny-side-only (denial) and the gloom only (cynical) modes we'll be tempted into.

Intellectual understanding of coming challenges doesn't alleviate the anxiety. Part of us knows we'll have to walk it step by step. And "walking" doesn't quite cover it either. Just walking is relatively easy - when you know where you're going. I took a lmonth-ong canoe trip years ago and though it was very challenging, I had the rare-for-me luxury of knowing where I was headed each day (downriver) and how I was going to get there (paddle and sail). That certainty isn't given to us in building a relocalized future. We have to make decisions and perform actions that used to be done for us automatically.

Just how much is done for us is shown by our use of oil, one barrel of which contains the equivalent of 25, 000 person / hours of labor. At $10 an hour, that's a quarter of a million bucks! As the supply shrinks, those "slaves" slowly cease working for us and we have to do the work ourselves. That's like withdrawal from a drug, one that we're all on. In this respect, "groups" and our own personal work, serve some of the role of AA meetings, a place to get through being oil sober.

So there are these challenges. But at the same time, we live in a Kosmos (the Greek word for the outer and inner universe) with a mind-boggling creative dimension that crackles with possibility and wisdom, a Kosmos that's evolved all this out of itself. Where we're at today and how we respond is part of the evolutionary drama too.

I'll share with you in 2011 what I'm learning about working with both sides of relocalization, along with more interviews and input with those who are doing it. You can see these on the Radical Relocalization site. Also starting today I'll post real time tips and comment on creating the future we want in a time of transition to a new blog, www.TransitionNotebook.blogspot.com. I'd love to see you there and welcome your comments there, or via return email here, whether sunny or dark.

Andrew