GroupThink(ing)

You might not even realize it, but you spend a lot of time working in teams, groups, and organizations. These are all “systems” of people that manage various tasks under common goals and purposes. In fact, you are probably in more groups then you even realize: work, family, sport, hobby, support, study, religious… the list of group types could go on and on. Social systems are a crucial and intricate part of daily life, but perhaps under-acknowledged.

Each class that you enter is a group. You and your colleagues have registered for a course, each course has a specific goal (example: to learn about basket-weaving). From there, you might even be separated into subgroups or “task groups” to tackle various projects. We all go through it and we all have group horror stories about members who sabotaged projects with power-hungry tendencies, or worse, with apathy. Often we are left dreading the next group project.

Most employment scenarios involve groups. Whether you’re the “Fry-Guy” at McGreasy’s or the head surgeon in the Emergency Room, whether you are a cog in a multi-national corporation or the leader of a grassroots community organization, chances are most of us end up in work teams, boards, or committees. We are evaluated upon our abilities to be a “team-player”, and success is rewarded to those who embody the group norms and values. Yet often we don’t share the values of our places of employment, and end up counting the days until we can give our two-weeks notice.

Furthermore, our families are groups. Whether you like your relatives or not, they are a group of people working together with a common purpose. What is this purpose? At the core it would be survival (food, shelter, water), but other key pursuits are often present, such as affection, kinship, and, on a rare occasion, intellectual and emotional growth. Yet even if we’ve had our basic needs provided, family gatherings can be disasters waiting to happen.

Sometimes the toughest aspect of groups is the lack of choice. We are often assigned to teams; frequently, group placement is random or simply by registration, leading to groups where members have conflicting goals, interests, or values. Additionally, it becomes frustrating when we are in situations where we are not heard or given space to share thoughts or emotions. It is easy to feel silenced in groups.

Unless we chose a life of solitude, which sometimes has its appeal, it is inevitable that we will be living and working in teams. Yet “group-hate” seems to be extremely real in North American culture. What makes us so distrusting to groups? Why do we find groups to be frustrating or irksome? Are groups simply a “necessary evil”?

Yes, groups are necessary. No, they don’t have to be traumatic or painful.

One solution to “group-hate” is knowledge of self. When in a group, it is important to know what your goals, expectations, and needs are within the group – are these congruent with your group members? Conflict often originates when people have incompatible desires with the interconnected members of the group. Ability to communicate becomes crucial.

Another factor in dealing with “group-hate” lies in educating oneself about the group process. Increasing evidence supports the notion that those who receiving training and learn theories about group development are less likely to experience dreaded “group-hate” syndromes (after taking courses in group-development, I can attest to this). Acquired knowledge means being able to diagnose problems, to intervene when necessary, and ultimately the power to influence what is occurring. Informing oneself is empowering oneself.

So as we hit mid-semester, and projects are in full swing, I hope that you are surviving your group experiences. They can be challenging, but they don’t have to leave scars.

At the risk of doling out unsolicited advice, I will leave you with a quote from psychiatrist and holocaust survivor Victor Frankl – “The last human freedom is to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances”. We may not have chosen the circumstances for our school, family, and work groups, but we can choose our behaviours and attitudes.

Chose wisely.

It's beautiful in the metro

If you are one of the many people that rides public transit, then you might appreciate this post by a fellow blogger...

I don't know about you, but this is a typical metro ride for me.




check out the video...


[props to puck's prattle]

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As you've noticed, I've been experimenting with some changes here at [the little spruce tree]... let me know what you think!

Let's talk about sex

So the "Sexuality Issue" was released last week with The Link. I had two articles published that were fun to tackle and educational! I love to learn about sex and the infinite ways that people experience their sexualities.

I've provided links below to read if you would like... comments are always encouraged!

I hope you find them... errr... satisfying.





Fat is not a 4-letter word

We often link our sexualities with our physiques. Different body forms appeal to different people, and there are more options out there than ice cream flavours at Baskin & Robin’s. Our society seems to value some flavours over others: why is that?

Close friends, your trusty author and 2110’s peer counseling program coordinator, Mylène St Pierre, sit down to chat about what it means to be fat and sexy, why we’re obsessed about our sizes and the challenges that fat people face when it comes to sexuality...

...keep reading


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BIG (heart) MUSCLE

It is a world that many of us are very unfamiliar with; the rules are different, the roles are changed. It’s a game of power where discomfort is often the goal and sensation the reward. Many people become uncomfortable when talking about BDSM (bondage/discipline/sadism/masochism), and the types of activities that occur, but what exactly is it?

...keep reading

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There is a light (and sometimes there is money)

This is a gem of a video created by an acquaintance in montreal. If you like it, you can check out other works at the "artist's profile" on Youtube.




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On a different note, if you have money burning in your pocket and are thinking about investing, then check out this CBC article about "Ethical Investing".

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And on a final note... "The Little Spruce Tree" has survived its first year as a rambling, under-successful blog. Thank you to those who do read loyally --- I do it for you :)

Stay tuned for the 10-year anniversary "Black Tie" event...

V-Day

This entry is dedicated to two new little unborn souls. May they grow gracefully in a world that values human beings equally.

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I recently watched the CBC series “The Greatest Canadian”. You may recall how these short documentaries on some of Canada’s Most Fabulous gripped the nerds of the nation back in the autumn of 2004. From Trudeau to Suzuki, Fredrick Banting to Terry Fox, I was humbled and inspired (and even got a little teary-eyed) by some of the “greatness” that has come from Canada.

But something was missing for me.

In the series, we had a minor amount of diversity in terms of religion, ethnicity and physical ability. We saw leadership from political, athletic, environmental and medical perspectives. But missing from the Top 10 Greatest Canadians were women.

Despite Canadian’s inability to recognize fabulous females, Canada has a history of innovative female leadership. If you have any doubts, I’ll name a few examples:

Geneticist Carrie Derick (1862-1941) fought against discrimination throughout her career, to become the first female professor in Canada, right here in Montreal.

Artist Emily Carr (1871-1945) made a monumental contribution to Canadian art through her paintings and literary works, while her appreciation for nature was unfashionable in a time of increasing industrialization. She was a woman ahead of her time.


Indigenous leader Mary John (1913-2004) of northern B.C. was a social activist and role model of integrity, strength and gentleness. She survived residential schooling to create aboriginal community programs, which aided in the preservation of Carrier language and culture.

The list could go on: Sandra Schmirler, Margaret Atwood, Andrienne Clarkson and Laura Secord have all made monumental contributions to our nation. Yet, as Canadians, we failed to recognize this when we placed our votes two years ago. Instead we voted Don Cherry into the Top 10, and consequently administered a metaphorical slap across the face to every female in this nation.

Many people will rationalize this by saying the lack of female representation was simply a reflection of the past, and these days we don’t have the same imbalances.

But really, how far have we evolved?


Gender inequity is evident in our current cultural and political systems. Music videos, the sonnets of our time, continue to objectify and exploit women. The recent wave of shows like Deal or No Deal and Show Me the Money (now thankfully extinct) are proof of equality de-evolution with women used as “sexy backdrops.” In advertising, soaps, sprays and other “feminine hygiene” products are continually marketed under the notion that a vagina is dirty and smelly. In Canadian political leadership, we still don’t have a balance of gender in Parliament or Senate.

Furthermore, the marginalized realities of transgendered individuals are symptoms of a gender dichotomy that is inflexible, a product of a patriarchic system that still exists. For some reason it continues to be an insult to refer to a male as feminine, thus implying that it is somehow substandard to be female. We still need to work to swing the pendulum back to the center.

Many may wonder how, as a male, I have an interest or even a right to vocalize my thoughts on these matters. To this, I reply with a quote from second-wave feminist Betty Friedan: “Man is not the enemy here, but the fellow victim."

As such, I am robbed by the lack of female representation in government, and wonder how international conflict and climate change would be different if women had equal access to leadership. I am sorrowed by nonsensical vulnerabilities to HIV, sexual abuse, and poverty that females experience disproportionately. And finally, I care because I am a brother, son and friend. When my loved ones are marginalized by a system that limits opportunity and development, I hurt with them.

Gender inequity leaves us all at a disadvantage.

So this V-day (February 14th), many of us will buy chocolates and flowers and pink heart-shaped Hallmark cards for our sweethearts. But what about thinking outside prescribed Valentine notions? What about taking the “flower-fund” and giving it to a local women’s shelter or gender advocacy center? Or getting tickets to a local production of Eve Ensler’s famous play “The Vagina Monologues”? Celebrate by recognizing that V-day goes beyond vaginas, and honour the contributions and leadership that women have given.

Canada, let’s learn from our failure to see greatness in its many forms. In the end, “The Greatest Canadians” will be those who fight for the rights, equalities and dignities of all.






V-day is a global movement to stop violence against girls and women. For more information visit: vday.org.

What will you do?

V-Day is coming...

Observation

Akin to the notion of "Perspective" is that of "Observation". To be able to widen our perspectives, we need to have the ability to observe our surroundings and to absorb the nuances.

I had a recent assignment to go into a foreign social space and to observe the complexities of social interaction. I was to become a human sponge.

Below is the narrative account of my experience. My chosen environment: A Catholic Church. In normal type is my concrete observation, in italics are my personal thoughts... thus an attempt to differentiate self from situation, recognizing that my perspective is a personal experience.




I enter the church late. The service began at 9:30 am, and I imagine that it is around 9:37 now. The people seem undisturbed by my tardiness, and I notice that other people trickle in after I do. I take my seat in the back; I am on the left side looking down linear pews toward the front. I am thirty or forty rows back, with only five pews behind me. I feel secure at the back, close to the door.

The church is massive, and the number of people here are not enough to fill ten percent of the available seating. The people seem randomly sprinkled towards the front, getting fewer and fewer towards the back. Many sit with their coats still on. Perhaps for a quick getaway?

Those who come alone sit in the back with me. Is there an implicit rule that the lonesome must sit at the back? Perhaps we are not lonely, but at this moment, just alone. Are they missing spouses? Lovers? Parents? Children? Those who sit in front seem to be in groups of two or three; I see grey hair and bald spots.

I take a breath and relax. My nose is filled with old wood and varnish and dust. My feet are cold from the walk. I wonder…is it the temperature in the church that keeps them chilled? The pew is firm beneath me, and stretches high to my shoulders.

At the front a young woman sings a melody in a minor key. The tension builds and then is resolved in a familiar melodic progression. It is melancholy, yet calming. Her arms sway up and down, conducting the crowd to sing with her. Yet I can’t hear anyone else sing, and I question whether the people in front are joining.

The man who is leading the service is dressed in a long green robe and glasses that hide his eyes. He begins to address the congregation en francais. Bordering on being animated, his arms raise while he speaks, as if to punctuate his phrases. I wonder what his life has been like… how and why does one become a religious leader? The congregation responds to his words when necessary; knowing when to talk, stand, or kneel, and when raise their hands to their foreheads, down to their bellies, and then from side to side.

I attempt to copy their actions but wonder if I stick out as much as I think I do.

The priest continues speaking. Do his hands ever tire of talking? The congregation sits like lawn ornaments staring at a snappy sprinkler shooting water over dry grass. I sense a tiredness in the air, yet the priest barely pauses for a breath.

But then the priest does pause; the people cross their chests, and the organ breaks the silence with a loud sorrowful song. Perhaps this is my interpretation of sorrow. I turn and see the enormous organ, high behind me. I feel small beside it’s grandeur.

Again the people kneel to pray, a child cries, the priest sings, the harmonic tension builds from the organ, and the moment is climaxed by the sudden ringing of church bells that seem to express a spiritual orgasm. Silence again.


A man and a women walk up the aisles collecting money in a round brass container, it looks like an upside down hat. I say a small prayer that I will be invisible. I have not brought money, and feel guilty for stealing observations, but giving nothing.

Now people begin to greet each other with handshakes and smiles. My heart rate increases, as I perceive a threat to my anonymity. I keep my eyes to the paper, missing the opportunity to observe the congregation, but managing to escape interaction. I feel guilt again… Am I exploiting their religious practice? Would it have hurt to say “hi”?

After the greetings, the congregation begins to move. They leave their pews and move towards the center aisle, like small creeks flowing together to form a river and moving towards the ocean. They approach the front, accept a small disk, dip it in a glass, and place it in their mouths. They cross their chests and return to a kneeling position in their pews while the young woman begins to sing again. Her voice is gentle; the word “amour” resonates amoungst the others that are sung.

The priest speaks again; this time it feels like a conclusion, which brings a sense of closure to a spiritual experience. Or was it a religious experience? What is the difference? The organ cries loudly now, releasing the people into the world. I write in frenzy, trying to absorb everything. The doors open. It is cold. The priest starts talking to individuals in the congregation. He moves closer to me. I pack up quickly and slip out, hoping that I am unnoticed.