If we build a beacon on top of a mountain, people will naturally climb towards it or use it for orientation purposes. However, if we place a beacon on a ridgeline full of other towers and ariels, we might get lost in the crowd. Our mission is to position our towers as close to the edge of the map as possible, making them useful without being so far off that they are never seen.
Seeing a sign, marking, blaze, trail, or symbol that confirms we are on route builds confidence. Even with digital maps, receiving real-world feedback that our navigation remains correct is empowering.
How might we leave the right blend of clues and wayfinding symbols to help those who follow stay on course? How might we assess if we need to leave an uninterrupted painted line or if we need markings at appropriate intervals?
If every destination had an express lane and no traffic, we would quickly underappreciate the journey required to reach the edges of the map. Because of the switchbacks, wayfinding, and moments of confusion, we are forced to endure the moments of high friction. The liminal space between certainty and uncertainty is where our best stories originate.
If we place all the outboard motors on one small craft, we will overpower the boat’s structural capabilities. If we apply an underpowered motor, the seas and currents will overwhelm the boat’s capacity. It might be intriguing that more is better, but not if our enterprise cannot handle the potential energy load.
How might we add programs, staff and board members, and partnerships that allow us to move within our capacities? How might we trial experimental efforts with unknown opportunities for success without sacrificing our core efforts?
When we encounter terrain changes, some give us pause, some cause us to re-route, and others go almost unnoticed.
What topography do we navigate without as much thought as perhaps they are worthy of? What geography causes us to stumble when it might not require special consideration?
Lighthouses are often located in remote places. Their purpose is communication. A lighthouse might signal a navigation point, warn of danger, offer guidance, or be a historical relic from a time when technology needed fixed navigational aids.
What navigation aids does your enterprise use to confirm the team is on course or avoiding potential barriers? Are they accurate? Do they need recalibration? Are they inherited from an era that may no longer be relevant? Or have you upgraded to a version that allows the cause to move more confidentially?
We can boast about our top-end capabilities, but if we do not have the skills to adjust to the terrain, we will crash fast in a straight line. Being able to navigate might be more important than harboring unlimited power.
Gutters help keep the primary travel surface free of debris and precipitation. They collect everything from snow to trash to lost treasure. We barely see the gutter if the central lane is free of obstacles. But we reach a liminal zone when forced to navigate using the gutter due to hindrances, too many pedestrians on the sidewalk, or to evade collision. Gutters serve as thresholds between different forms of travel. Until we venture into one to expedite our journey or utilize it in an emergency, we rarely pause as we cross this boundary.
However, it can become emotional when forced into the gutter to accommodate a person or object deemed a priority. For example, proprietors may claim sidewalk space for their enterprise and route passersby into the gutter as egress. A poorly parked vehicle that
Navigating by gutters can add to our journey: it can make room for a wedding party spilling out of a church, creep past a fire truck engaged in emergency services, or accommodate a new neighbor moving into an adjacent property.
How might we recognize that how we position and communicate a detour, a reroute, or a temporary barrier may be interpreted in various ways?
Superheated air takes thirty seconds to reach the top of a hot air balloon and influence its rate of ascent or descent. Therefore, a balloon pilot must make decisions half a minute ahead of the current position. It is a good metaphor for our own expedition. We cannot have the instantaneous response of an accelerator or disc brakes in modern vehicles. Our enterprises are more of a balloon journey; we need to look far enough ahead to navigate and adjust for the wind conditions at different altitudes.
How might we recognize that deploying resources has a delayed impact on our progress?
If our strategy is too complex to execute, it will likely falter. If we supply an unmistakable path forward and clarity about the intended horizon line, our work can focus on the journey. Otherwise, we might spend substantial resources navigating endless sand dunes, looking for a place to set sail.
What-if-concepts 