In mid-June, The Canoe Group and friends spent a weekend on the Oregon Coast. We entered a team in the annual Cannon Beach Sandcastle Contest. We loved being with our friends and we built this totally cool and totally transitory thing. We learned a lot together.
The shared leadership of the sandcastle building was a fascinating thing. We had a scale model of Crater Lake, built out of white modeling clay from images captured from Google Earth (see the world from any place and angle). And we had photos and drawings and a gridded site map. The high level vision was set but none of the details… and definitely no job descriptions.
Clay model of Sandcastle
We were a team of four women and four men. Our team’s natural leadership style was “I’m just going to go ahead and do what I think needs to be done next.” Because we knew collaborating was key, our approach meant we were all not only working, but also continually scoping and commenting on each other’s efforts and choices. “I like that” got said a lot. Also, “do you need help?” Because we were working side-by-side in a 21 x 21 foot square plot this approach pretty much flowed.
A few of us spent the day noticing and commenting on what seemed to be working, what seemed to NOT be working: saying things out-loud that galvanized team problem-solving. The “learning leadership” role meant everybody’s creativity stayed involved. New team ideas were shaped all day long. (Note: this “talking about it” method seemed mildly irritating to some of the team members who only wanted to dig-dig-dig. )
Everyone has their own technique for doing drippy trees.
And the third form of leadership – process leadership – we shared, too. “What’s next?” and “who wants to do it?” was a continual refrain. About the time one of us got tired of digging, another one would step in. Some of us stood ready to do “whatever the team needs next”. By the time we came to the drippy trees, it was totally clear who wanted to do them. Others of us said things like, “I’m really lousy at drippy trees.” Whatever worked, we went with.
My personal favorite “lesson learned” was that by the end of the day, we had named everything – the “popsicle sticks”, the drippy trees, the rim, Wizard Island, Mt. Scott, the carved edge. We knew which tools worked: what we’ll bring again next year. A thoroughly satisfying team experience. Rare, even on a lovely, warm June day at the beach.
While we all agreed that having fun was core to our mission for the day, I wondered what was going to happen when you placed a team that was stacked with perfectionists (and some recovering control addicts – yes, that includes me) into an unknown environment to complete a task as a team.
I also wondered how shared leadership would work with other members of the team we had invited to play with us (at The Canoe Group, we operate our business utilizing shared leadership).
As I reflect back on the day, the most memorable example of our perfectionist tendencies occurred right from the start of our day. We decided to carve a grid (with tape measure in hand) in our 21 x 21 sand plot to coincide with our gridded model of Crater Lake on paper. Our sand sculpture of Crater Lake had to be created to scale!
Watching Dave carve out the perimeter to match our gridded site map reminded me of one of the activities that was commonly found on restaurant placemats when I was growing up. Good memories.
As Marta points out, we worked together as a team on certain aspects of the build and settled into our own unique roles/tasks in an almost entirely organic process as the day progressed.
Everyone found something they wanted to do from the tasks at hand and approached their work with great purpose. This seems like such a simple statement or way of being, but our experience reminded me of how infrequently this happens in day-to-day work.
After months of planning and anticipation, I almost didn’t make it to Sandcastle Day. News of an unexpected death in our family arrived the day before and I didn’t know for several hours if I would be able to go. But, ultimately, I saw it as an opportunity for healing in the company close friends. So, off to Cannon Beach I went.
Let me tell you, sculpting sand for four hours is very therapeutic. And it allows your inner child to come forward in a way that we don’t often experience in our busy, day-to-day lives. Some of my favorite memories:
The moment we realized that we had drawn the perimeter in reverse (west facing east, east facing west) and everyone said, “Let’s just do it this way.” A fine example of creative collaboration in the face of the unexpected.
Being hoisted out of the water and over the rim after spending several hours sculpting the inside of the crater. I knew I would have to find my way out eventually, but hadn’t given it much thought. I had faith that the way would become clear in time.
Watching Michael and Dave create drippy trees with such intense and quiet focus you could hear a pin drop… if it wasn’t for the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.
I was intrigued to see how each of us gravitated toward tasks that allowed us to “play” in a way that best expressed the artist within. It’s amazing to see what emerges when you place adults in the company of sand and water. Magic.