Order and Chaos
Photo Credit: Cannon Beach, Oregon, taken by Doug Hurley on January 10, 2023.
I was sitting in this exact spot four years ago, almost to the day. The "haystack" is right outside my window (this is a beautiful rock formation at Cannon Beach, Oregon). The Pacific surf is crashing on the beach; seagulls are darting back and forth. There's a feeling of both order and chaos. Order in the sense that nothing has changed; the haystack is still a formidable rock, unmoved and predictably looking just like it did back in 2019. Chaos in the sense that there is a wildness to the wind, temperature, waves, and ocean.
And I know, because it's the Oregon coast – and because it's January – that the blueness of the sky will fade quickly and turn to a steady downpour of rain (order). But I don't know exactly when that change will happen (chaos).
Four years ago, here at Cannon Beach, I was finishing my Doctorate in Leadership. I was surrounded by over a dozen sages. Men and women who were some of the brightest and most caring leaders I had ever associated with. It was both humbling to be part of this group and a super big confidence boost to my leadership style and credentials. It was an honor to be learning, growing, and doing life with them for the previous three years. And though we had a common umbrella of getting the highest academic degree you could get in leadership, each of us had our different reasons why we were doing it; and, as importantly, what we were going to go and do with it in the world.
For me, not only did I have my what and why, but I also had my how. I had my how so dialed in that I could prescribe out loud what the next several years would look like – down to each "t" being crossed and each "i" being dotted. It was 100% baked, at least in my mind – even though it hadn't happened yet. I knew it would happen because there was such a sensible ORDER of purpose, focus, and direction. There was 20/20 acuity in the why, what, and how I was going to do life, and into how I was going to deploy all of this amazing leadership stuff that I had learned and honed in preparation to bring more order into the world.
And then Covid happened.
And about 90% of my life changed.
My job, my career, my kids' schooling, where we lived, etc.
Was a lot of it bad? It sure was. I don't need to tell you. We all – every one of us – have our junky stories to tell about Covid.
BUT a lot of it was good.
I'm going to skip the entire journey to how I got to "good," but here are the highlights of the "good" that came on the other side of chaos:
-I love where we are living better than where I was.
-I love the job I'm in now more than I've ever loved a job before.
-I'm closer to extended family (both my own and my wife's), which is so good for our hearts.
-My family (my wife and my kids) are in the best spot relationally that we've ever been.
-My spiritual faith is the most abundant to date.
But I never would have guessed any of that would happen. In fact, if you had told me four years ago while we were walking by the haystack, "Doug, you know this super detailed plan you have for the next number of years? Well, I'm going to change that up a bit." I probably would have responded with, "Ummm, no you are not. I have a plan; I have an order. If you did that, you would invite chaos into my ordered plan."
But today, I wouldn't change just about anything; and it's because of all the good in my life that I just mentioned a few sentences ago. And so much of that good came from chaos.
Here's an anchoring statement for me and you: When you think you have arrived, you haven't.
That's not to take away the goodness in predictability and order. For example, when I showed up at Cannon Beach yesterday, if the haystack was gone, I would have freaked out.
The fact that a handful of other "Leadership Doctors" and I get together at Cannon Beach every January to pour into each other is order. It's good. It's good order in my life.
So for the record, order is good.
But so is the chaos.
I know that sounds like a paradox, and frankly, it is. It's a paradox. It's where two things that seem opposite, and therefore can't be both true, ARE TRUE. And, not just TRUE, but good.
If I had stayed so entrenched four years ago in the "I know EXACTLY what I'm going to do for the next umpteen years…", I would have missed out on the beauty and the goodness that has been brought into my life now.
I'm now not only embracing chaos, I'm inviting the chaos. You could be like, huh?! I'm not inviting another "Covid," but I am inviting having my stringent, linear, one-way thinking shaken up in a big way so I can learn something else that I didn't know. So I can learn something else that I need to know to lead better, parent better, love better, protect better, experience joy better, or step into pain and grieve and show empathy, compassion, and mercy better. I'm inviting chaos to get me unstuck when I'm stuck.
Bringing this down to one of the most fundamental leadership principles that we at RethinkWork live by: you can't lead others well if you don't lead yourself well; and you can't lead yourself well if you don't know yourself well.
If we think we've arrived at our own self-awareness, in our own plan to cross t's and dot i's, in our own "order" of our world, we are highly likely to be placing boundaries around unexpected chaos that could be brought in that could be good. We would be boxing out self-revelation, learning, growth, progress, and flourishing.
As I say this to you, I am a bit nervous. I'm sitting here today, and I know I'm going to be back here next year, at Cannon Beach in January 2024. And the year after, and the year after that. And I'm wondering, "what chaos, change, or unpredictability will I be reflecting on, or already deeply underway with, or on the verge of stepping into?" In other words, I'm a bit nervous that there's a lot that I don't know that's not in my ordered plan.
But I'm not that nervous.
The haystack will still be there. The beauty of the Pacific will still be what it is. The seagulls will still be swooning about.
And, some revelation will be palpable in some way that will hopefully shake me out of some linear type of thinking and into personal and professional growth.
Order and chaos. Is good.
So it's time to wrap this up.
In this moment, as I write this and as predicted, it's starting to rain. I'm going to leave the beach house and go out into the chaos of the wind, rain, and surf. I'm going to embrace its chaos. And I'm going to walk right up to the haystack and embrace its beauty and order.