The “Oh No” of Puppy Raising…
…And other lessons on transformation
I’ve been busy in my design lab, and my geek brain is happy. I’ve been digging deep into transformative learning theory, adult learning theory, experiential learning, liberatory practices and design, Jungian psychology, and emergence/interdependence. I’m working to answer the following question:
What might a transformative adult learning experience look like? More specifically, what might it look like for participants to reimagine the world for the better, challenge the status quo, approach relationships and shift systems with more intention, humanity, integrity, and care?
It’s a big question, and these are some heavy-hitting theories. For me, it’s the essential question not only for working well, but living well.
But I’ve also been busy with raising a new puppy, and that journey is intersecting with what I’ve been researching and creating. In fact, my puppy is in the throes of a tantrum as I try to write this newsletter. So rather than just talk about theory or just talk about my dog (both of which I could do for hours), I’ll share a little about both and what I’ve learned along the way.
First, Mikey
For those of you who know me, you know I love dogs. I also tend to learn my biggest life lessons from having a dog. My last dog, Buster (may you rest in power, old pup) was a mold-breaker. He taught me infinite patience, love, and what it means to meet someone where they are in every way. I can go on and on about what a tough road we had, but I’ll take this moment to introduce you to Mikey instead.
World, meet Mikey; Mikey, meet world.
In many ways, Mikey is the opposite of Buster. She is friendly, outgoing, interested in everything and everyone, and so far, is showing signs of being a healthy and well-socialized pup.
But she’s also a puppy! A full on, complete, and total puppy.
Puppies are wild, adventurous, mouthy, weird, messy, and non-stop energy. It has been over 20 years since I raised a puppy, and the conventional wisdom about dog-rearing has shifted a lot since then. My energy level has, too. I’m in the midst of my own transformation as my partner and I introduce this little loving and energetic creature into our home—and she greets the world with her infinite exuberance. This process has created moments of dissonance, opportunities for reflection, so many insights, and shifts in my actions so I can best serve this little pup with all she needs to thrive. It’s a lot like what I learned about in the research process.
What the Research Has Taught Me
Through the research process, I learned that many of us pinpoint transformation as a single moment of insight—the big a-ha or awakening—that prompts us to make change. But this shift is fleeting, oftentimes because the insight itself isn’t the only component of transformation.
Here’s the kicker: it’s what we do with our insights—the scope and scale of our actions, the ability to integrate and transfer our learning sustainably—that lead to something we can call transformation. Not only that, but change is more likely to occur when we process our learning in community, when we are accountable to others for the changes we want to make.
My hope is to design learning spaces not only for insight, but for action; not just for individual change, but collective change that lasts. While my approaches are always iterative and responsive, I’ve decided it’s time to go live with what I have been learning, what clients will hopefully experience in the spaces I facilitate. The following is the process I’m using to guide adult learners toward sustainable, transformative change—and the one I’m testing out in my own life, too.
The Process of Transformation
The process begins with dissonance: Whether it’s a problem we’re solving, a challenge we’re experiencing, or a new approach to learning we hadn’t thought about, dissonance helps us dislodge our fixed notions and consider other ways of doing, being, believing, knowing. It serves as a call to action to engage in the learning journey.
Time for reflective exploration: We need a place (and some tools) to grapple with this challenge; through frameworks, reflective questions, or a range of source materials and simulations, we can balance the internal work of reflection with the external work of processing in community. Especially in psychologically safe and trusting communities, we can test our ideas, challenge our assumptions, and dig deeper into where our beliefs or ideas come from.
Exploration can lead to insight: Insights can happen at any point in the transformation process, and they often happen on the heels of exploration. This insight typically takes three (often overlapping) forms: The “a-ha,” the “oh yeah,” and the “oh no.”
The “a-ha” is usually a point of new discovery, something we hadn’t thought about before or a new way of looking at a situation.
The “oh yeah” reminds us of the wisdom we already possess. Perhaps we have doubted our intuition so we have denied this wisdom. The “oh yeah” reminds us we have what we need to make change, and we’re on the right path.
The “oh no” can be the scariest and most illuminating of insights. The “oh no” may be as difficult as realizing we’ve caused harm, or it might be a recognition we have been focusing on the wrong thing (e.g. what’s out of our control), or it might be something that scares us. The “oh no” is humbling, and it’s possibly an invitation to turn toward our fears, summon our best selves, and make meaningful change.
Create small actions to test these insights: Whether it’s an a-ha, oh yeah, oh no, or somewhere in between, we can take our realizations and put them into action. adrienne maree brown’s work on emergence focuses on how small actions can have a big impact over time, and that theory guides this phase of the process. At this point, we can ask, “What’s one action I can take to test my insight?” We then create an action plan that not only determines our actions, but measures them in a timeframe that makes the most sense for us. By taking action and sharing in community, we’re more apt to be accountable for what we put into practice.
Integrate and transfer: When we’ve had a chance to test our insights and consider our action steps, we can integrate what we’ve learned and transfer this learning into our work, our lives, our relationships—whether it’s a new mode of interacting, a new approach to leading meetings, or a little more patience in times of stress.
I also hold a fundamental belief that if I’m trying out this process with others, I need to do it for myself, too. Recently, I had a chance to test out this process with Mikey, to see if the synthesis of these ideas held up with my aspirations.
The “Oh No” of Puppy Raising
Here’s how this process of transformation is breaking down for me in puppy-raising:
Dissonance: Going from the quiet of our dogless home to the daily buzz of puppydom is enough to cause ongoing dissonance. But I also am having dissonance from thinking I knew what I was getting into to realizing I have no idea, or at least, I don’t have all the ideas. This pup is challenging no matter how cute she is, and every day is a new gauntlet to work through.
Reflective Exploration: My partner and I are on this journey together, and we explore our challenges through communicating; determining which toys Mikey likes (squeaks and crinkles are a win); understanding what she’ll eat (everything!); considering how she learns, when she’s sleepy, and when she is off the rails. Each day isn’t just an exploration of what the puppy needs, but who we are as well. Can we handle this work? Are we ready for a long-haul commitment to our new furry family member? And how do we keep our emotions in balance when Mikey is biting through a favorite piece of clothing, not following up on training commands, or anything else that throws us off?
Insight: I’m experiencing the “oh no,” “oh yeah,” and “a-ha” all at the same time, often several moments throughout the day. But the “oh no” is where I’m learning the most. The “oh no” is the recognition that my life is once again fundamentally changed by this new addition; that I’m not a young person; that I am raising this dog in partnership and not solo, which means an ongoing negotiation of needs, roles, tasks. It’s a good set of “oh no’s,” but I also recognize how hard this is in partnership. I’m learning that patience is an ongoing practice and that deep breaths are the greatest gift to staying present and balanced while Mikey shreds toilet paper or gets into the coffee filters.
Small actions: With these insights—the recognition that we need clear communication and that I need more patience—my partner and I do a daily check-in about the division of responsibilities; we also communicate needs, when one of us needs to tap out or is calling for extra support. I also set an intention for each phase of the day, and who I hope to be when Mikey is sleepy, getting some training, or is just plain wild. At the end of each day, I’m writing brief reflections on where I met my intentions and where I was off the mark. These intentions don’t resolve all the energy it takes to raise a pup, but they do allow me to be more deliberate about my actions.
Integration and transfer: This is the moment I get a little metaphorical about how raising a dog is like being a leader, an educator, a human. And it is. Clear communication and role clarity matter for me to be an effective leader. Intention-setting and determining who I want to be allows me to be a more effective coach, designer, facilitator. Patience is a necessary precursor to responding rather than reacting. It’s a gift to have a puppy, but an exhausting one. Yet the consistency she calls for allows me to develop the neural pathways to be better at work and life—and have a sense of humor along the way.
