I read this quote today and it seemed to hit the nail on the head for me. As with anyone who gets hit in the head with a nail, I didn’t just pause, I said “ouch.” I think it explains the disorienting fog hanging over so many communities right now. There is so much division and outrage, but no agreement into what direction to rage towards. The lack of clarity around diagnosing the actual source of the problem is not helpful, its not productive and it’s not healthy for us or our communities.

We are in the midst of what experts have declared a pandemic of loneliness. We’re digitally connected to more people than ever—and yet somehow feel more divided, more defensive, and more alone. It’s like we’re all speaking at the same time and nobody’s listening. A thousand conversations, zero shared meaning. Over sensitized and bombarded with communication but no shared understanding. It is a collective raging into the void and it comes back empty.

We’re lost. We have no common frame of reference. We have no shared compass.

What kind of leader do we need when communities feel collectively lost?

Not the loud kind. Not the transactional kind that lacks the instincts to nurture connection and consensus building. We don’t need hate, de-humanizing rhetoric or the justification for violence. We don’t need the arrogant, the immoral or the self-absorbed.

We need the non-anxious presence. I’m talking about the quiet, humble, steady, show-up-every-day kind of leadership that knows the names of neighbors and listens more than it lectures. Leaders who choose connection and compassion over division. Leaders who sacrificially give and aren’t in the business of taking. Leaders who think and act upside down, they serve from the bottom-up and not the top-down. Leaders who see the intrinsic value and worth of all people so that none are left behind. We need leaders who build a big enough feasting table for all to share resources and find belonging at. Community literally means: ‘enough for everyone’.

In communities—especially the ones trying to rebuild trust or reimagine their future—we need the voices of leaders who are anchors. People who help others remember and anchor down in what matters most. These kinds of leaders orient the community towards courage and hope for a better reality and they do it with their boots on the ground. They are in the fight with their neighbors, they are a part of the solution while in the dirt of the problem. These kinds of leaders can handle the tension of disagreement and the ‘hard’, but show up with courage and a raw belief in the collective resources of the community. These leaders are anchored deep in their identity and values, they can stand still and anchored in the midst of the storms. The community can find comfort, peace and direction if the leader is anchored.

Perhaps the most radical thing you can do right now is help your community agree on something. Not everything. Just something. A shared value. A common purpose. A collective “why” that sets a direction.

Start small, instead of raging about what or who you are against . . . name a value you are for. These are some from communities I lead:

• We are for the dignity and worth of ALL people

• We are for building spaces where ALL feel welcomed

• We are for sharing extra resources with those who have less

• We promote love and compassion as opposed to anger

• We choose kindness and peace over violence

From there, you build. One conversation, one meal, one awkward but intentional gathering at a time.

The world is short on this kind of leadership but that’s why you’re here. We start small, ordinary and in the local: our families, our pubs/breweries, our neighborhoods, our work circles, and our civic community spaces. If in the local and ordinary we can rediscover something that holds us together, maybe we help the larger world remember what healthy community feels like.

The leader who is the non-anxious presence is the anchor in the storm. They are the compass worth following into the unknown future.

Welcome to the Good Life, my friends!