When we launch a new idea or product, it is our most recent (and hopefully best) version. It is the current model. When we purchase a new vehicle, software, or product, we receive what is currently in production. We cannot purchase and immediately use the coming model.
How might we embrace where we are and what we have? How might we not always be evluating our version versus the next itteration? How might we avoid prioritizing buying for the future when our needs might change?
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” The Great Gatsby
How does our understanding of the green light in The Great Gatsby change over time? How does our work alter with the influence of experience and time? What dreams do we defend, and which do we sacrifice as we watch our own green light pulse from distant shores?
If we want to intersect an orbiting planet, we will fail if we wait until it is closest to Earth and launch. We need to anticipate when the planet will reach the nadir of its orbit relative to Earth and then calculate how much time in advance we need to launch. The same is true for life. Savings funds are best started years in advance, not the week before a major purchase. Save-the-date announcements are sent months before a major ceremony. Architectural plans are drafted through iterations, beginning with broad concepts and moving towards construction and engineering details before building begins.
If the journey ahead is uncharted, we probably cannot plan today for tomorrow’s complete immersion. We need to aim for a point of confluence, where our vision and the future might intersect.
A year-in-review process is similar to examining scorecards from the previous 12 months of golf. There was an optimal route and score to achieve (par) versus the reality of the rounds played. Rarely did the round run as scripted. The year ahead is analogous to assessing blank scorecards of the rounds we intend to play. There is a plan and the vision of completing the track as outlined and achieving the best possible score.
How much room are we leaving in these plans for the unanticipated? How calibrated is our script to our abilities? How much will our resources and equipment add or detract from the journey?
Golf (and planning for the future) would be boring if they always followed the same articulated plan. Our best stories often prosper from encountering the unknown. Serendipity thrives!
If we can predict the future, why did we schedule the gala performance on the night of an enormous summer thunderstorm?
How might we recognize that we cannot predict the weather and, therefore, probably cannot anticipate other critical future events? Perhaps we should leave space in our planning to adjust and reroute.
After you complete the hard part, then what? Do you stop and rest, or do you continue forward at a recovery pace? Can you accelerate on easier terrain, or is your journey finished? Tour de France riders do not call it a season after three weeks of bicycle stage racing. They move on to the next round of events (World Championships, Olympic Games, Vuelta Espana, etc.).
A way to distinguish ourselves is not by completing the hard section but by our actions after cresting the headwall. A social sector organization that completes a capital campaign and then goes silent is remarkable for not being able to double-click on its campaign’s impact. An enterprise that goes viral for a compelling story and continues to make that event its sole highlight reel for successive years is the equivalent of riding off into the sunset.
How might we plan for the crux move and the terrain that follows?
100 million NCAA March Madness collegiate basketball brackets are filled out yearly, and they cannot correctly select all the winners. How do we expect to predict our organization’s future if we do not have the benefit of professional analysis and endless metrics? Are we so confident in our ability to forecast the future that we can write strategic plans as if we are completing a winning NCAA March Madness bracket? We might get some themes right, but the odds are against perfection.
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Future me benefits when current me acts thoughtfully. Before a trip, I might make the bed with fresh sheets, clean, and leave a reasonable supply of food for my return. Current me might unpack my bag completely and leave items in easy-to-find locations so future me can pack without stress for the next adventure. Current me can wax skis, clean bikes, dry out muddy running shoes, place new batteries in the headlamp, and repair a small leak in the tent, so future me launches with a higher degree of success and enjoyment.
What actions and decisions can your current team make that would set up the future team for a higher degree of impact? How often has a topic or barrier been raised that never gets resolved, knowing it will ultimately be decided once it is an emergency (burning platform)? Have you served an organization that inherited disruptions that could have been avoided by the team that proceeded your tenure? What if your gift to the board/staff/members that follow is to wrestle with the obstacles they will encounter? Even if we cannot make definitive progress, we can leave a record of how we tried to iterate and what succeeded and failed.
My hope is that current you assumes a force for good mindset so future you can focus on the work that matters.
What-if-concepts 