What Four Months at Hope Springs Teaches Us About Organizational Transformation
8-minute read
Reflections on honoring the pace of change—and the unexpected turns that test our principles
Our first night on the land taught us something we hadn't expected about organizational transformation. As we settled into the director's house at Hope Springs Institute—learning the quirks of appliances, stocking provisions, taking our inaugural walk to greet the deer and rabbits—we realized we were experiencing organizational transformation and learning the lesson: change can't be rushed, it's not efficient. But it is relational.
Four months later, that lesson has been tested in ways we couldn't have anticipated.
When Theory Meets Practice
In September, we faced unexpected leadership transitions. I stepped into the role of Interim Executive Director at Hope Springs Institute, and Lindsay became Interim Executive Director of Women Writing for (a) Change when their Executive Director stepped down. Suddenly, we weren't just consulting on organizational transformation—we were holding it.
The irony wasn't lost on us: here we were, having just written about easing in and honoring the pace of change, now thrust into leadership roles that demanded immediate decisions, steady presence, and the kind of resilience we'd been advising just weeks before.
The Myth of "Hitting the Ground Running"
In organizational work, we're often pressured to "hit the ground running"—to demonstrate immediate value, quick wins, measurable impact. But what we’re experiencing in our first days as Interim Executive Directors reminds us of a fundamental truth: meaningful change begins with easing in, not sprinting.
As we step into interim leadership, there's enormous pressure to prove you're "ready," to show you can handle it, to not let anyone see you're still learning where things are kept. But we've discovered that the principles we wrote about aren't just nice ideas—they're survival strategies.
Consider what it means to ease into change:
Learning the existing rhythms and patterns
Understanding what's already working (even the "quirks")
Building relationships before building solutions
Taking time to witness what's present before changing anything
This mirrors what we see in the most successful organizational transformations: they begin not with action plans, but with deep listening. Even—especially—when you don't feel like you have time for listening.
Three Principles for Transformation Leaders (Field-Tested)
1. Honor the Discovery Phase (Even When There's No Time)
Just as we took time to stock our provisions and learn the appliances, organizations need space to take an honest inventory. What resources do we actually have? What systems are functioning, even if imperfectly? What relationships already exist?
The reality: When you’re a leader during a crisis, people want answers immediately. Funders want reassurance. Staff need direction. The temptation to perform certainty is overwhelming.
What we're learning: The discovery phase isn't a luxury—it's essential infrastructure. We've had to learn to say, "I don't know yet, but here's how I'm finding out" more times than we can count. That honesty has built more trust than any false certainty could have.
Try this: Before introducing new processes, spend time mapping what's already happening. Ask not "What should we change?" but "What's already working that we can build upon?" When you're new to leadership, this isn't just good practice—it's how you avoid accidentally breaking the invisible systems that actually hold things together.
2. Practice Relational Onboarding (Especially in Crisis)
Our evening walk to meet the land and its creatures wasn't just romantic—it was essential orientation. We were announcing our presence, observing the existing ecosystem, and beginning the slow work of belonging.
Leading through unexpected transition has taught us that relational onboarding becomes even more critical when people are scared or uncertain. The organizations we're serving are grieving what was, anxious about what's next, and watching carefully to see if we understand what matters to them.
Try this: When entering any system (as a new leader, consultant, or change agent), prioritize relationship-building over task completion in your first 90 days. Schedule listening sessions not just with key stakeholders, but with the quieter voices who understand how things actually work. We've found that the administrative assistant who's been there for fifteen years and the volunteer who shows up every week know more about the organization's true culture than any strategic plan could capture.
3. Create Rituals for Transition (They'll Save You)
We closed that first evening with an oracle reading—a ritual that grounded us in the work ahead. Ritual isn't just spiritual practice; it's practical technology for helping systems acknowledge and integrate change.
Rituals create containers for grief, uncertainty, and hope when everything else feels chaotic. They permit people to acknowledge what's hard while still moving forward. They remind everyone—including us—that we're human beings doing hard things together, not just roles performing functions.
Try this: Design simple rituals to mark important transitions in your organization. This might be as simple as beginning meetings with a moment of appreciation for what's ending or creating closing ceremonies for completed projects before rushing into the next initiative. We've started beginning meetings with a brief check-in: "What are you carrying into this space today?" It takes three minutes and transforms the quality of everything that follows.
The Questions That Still Matter (More Than Ever)
That first evening, the questions that emerged weren't about metrics or timelines: What does it mean to be persistent and resilient in the liminal—personally and organizationally? What brings us here at this moment?
These became our guiding inquiries, not because they had easy answers, but because they oriented us toward what matters most: the quality of presence we bring to transformational work.
Months later, these questions haven't become easier—they've become more urgent. What does it mean to lead when you're still finding your way? How do you hold steady for others when you're uncertain yourself? What does resilience look like when you're tired?
The answers we're living into: Resilience isn't pretending you're not struggling. Persistence doesn't mean never resting. Being present means showing up as fully human, not performing invulnerability.
Beyond Bouncing Back
We often talk about organizational resilience as "bouncing back," but what if that's not what's needed? What if transformation requires us to bounce forward into something entirely new?
The organizations we're serving have been through ruptures. People are tired. The old ways aren't working. And here's what we've learned: trying to return to "normal" isn't just impossible—it's not even desirable.
The status quo hasn't been favorable to those surviving harm in many organizations. True resilience might mean creating entirely new ways of being together—approaches that honor both the practical needs of getting work done and the deeper human need for meaning, connection, and belonging.
This work is slow. It's humbling. It requires us to stay curious about our own limitations even as we step into authority. It means disappointing people sometimes because we can't move as fast as they want us to. It means celebrating tiny victories and grieving losses that no one outside the organization will ever see.
What We're Learning in Real Time
Leadership is lonelier than we expected. Even with each other, even with strong teams, the weight of final decisions sits heavily.
People are more gracious than we anticipated. When we've been honest about what we don't know, when we've admitted mistakes, when we've asked for help—communities have shown up with stunning generosity.
The work is both harder and simpler than we thought. Harder because there are no perfect answers. Simpler because when you strip everything away, it comes down to this: Can we create spaces where people feel they belong? Can we honor what's been while building what's next? Can we stay connected to why we're here?
Rest isn't optional. We've had to practice what we preach about rest being strategic, not self-indulgent. Some weeks, the most radical thing we've done is stop working at 5pm.
For Your Reflection
What does resilience look like in your current organizational moment? Not the theoretical kind—the daily, unglamorous, showing-up-again-tomorrow kind?
How could you create more space for settling rather than rushing into action? What would you need to say no to? What permission would you need to give yourself?
What rituals could help your team or organization honor transitions more intentionally? What needs to be acknowledged is that everyone's pretending isn't happening?
An Invitation (From the Middle of It)
If your organization is in transition—feeling both the pull of what's possible and the weight of what's difficult—we want you to know: you're not alone. We're here too, figuring it out as we go, learning that transformation isn't something you master but something you live through.
Transformation is not a problem to be solved quickly, but a threshold to be honored fully. That's still true. What we'd add now: it's also messy, imperfect, and more beautiful than you expect.
The depth of our organizational sorrows often reflects the depth of our potential joy. Both deserve our attention. We're learning to hold both at once—the grief of what's been lost and the hope of what's being born.
What would change if your next organizational transition began not with a strategic plan, but with the question: "How do we want to belong to this work and to each other?"
We're still asking that question. We don't have it figured out. But we're showing up to find out together.
Perspective Guides accompanies individuals and organizations through profound moments of change. Our work is grounded in rest, connection, and the belief that transformation is a collective endeavor. Learn more about our strategic services and coaching offerings.
The Apacheta at Hope Springs Institute, a sacred site.
