For the past two years, I had the privilege of working with telecentre.org and Canada’s International Development Research Centre. I was able to work on things that I’m passionate about: technology, community, collaboration, networks, helping people connect and share. I was able to visit and see the work of amazing organizations around the world: Sarovdaya/Fusion in Sri Lanka, Ugabytes in Uganda, Centre Songhai in Benin, Fundacion Esplai in Spain, CEPES in Peru. I attended meetings in Cairo, Kuala Lumpur, Riga, Santiago, Lima, and Ottawa. And most importantly: I met people that I love and respect.

Working for telecentre.org came after 13 years in Washington, DC. IDRC was kind enough to let me work from Montreal — some of my colleagues were based in Ottawa and others spread out around the world.  I appreciated doing international development work from Canada. But something was not right. I realized that a good portion of my work — and my self — needs to be grounded in and focused on my community. Part of me will always be drawn outside: to other places and people and ways of thinking and being. But for now less travel, more inyourface, more inside, more here. Quebec, Montreal, Station C.

So now I’m doing some project management and communications consulting. I’m getting involved (I suppose you could call that volunteering). I’ve started an open publishing company. I’m reading and writing and blogging. I’m trying to figure out what the hell it is that I do. I know the easy answer is “communications” — but that doesn’t feel right. Communications is part of it but the term doesn’t capture the breadth of my contributions. I’ve now spent the better part of 12 hours at my computer. Fighting with it. Searching. Thinking. I know it comes back to writing, community, collaboration, technology. Content strategist? Facilitator? Writer? Online community builder? Network weaver? Social media consultant? Innovator? Entrepreneur? Thinker? Troublemaker? I’m struggling. And will keep at it until I figure it out.

Liam and I saw this logo on the back of a van this morning. We could not believe it. WTF?! What kind of bad bad drugs were the people who came up with this doing? Did no one ever say “Oh, yes, that’s nice but I wonder if some people may think it looks like we’re pouring blood over the earth or depicting environmental disaster?” And what’s up with the take-over-the-world overtones? Until today, I associated the Sherman Williams name with good quality paint. No longer.

These people have been in business since 1866. You think they’d have more communications savvy. My 12-year-old knows better. Mr. Wells, it’s time to re-brand!

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.

I’ve never focused on originality. I can appreciate it, but don’t aspire to it. Innovation maybe, as in finding a better way. In the forefront of my mind? Healing, integrity, justice, peace, empathy. That’s what gets me going. To love. To repair the world. Better to focus on understanding and sharing. Better to focus on being authentic. That is hard enough and good enough for me.

I first learned about Lunch from Angry Women, a book I bought in the early 1990s. In it, Vicky Vale and Andrea Juno (the editors), introduced me to Diamanda Galas, Avital Ronell, Annie Sprinkle, Sapphire, and Susie Bright, among others, who opened to me whole new world of ideas and expanded my sense of what is possible. The book included critiques of mainstream American culture and writing about women’s sexuality. Who we (can/cannot/decide to) have sex with, when, and how. The answers to these question define, in large part, the culture we live in. It’s one of my special books, and I should probably go back and read it, now that I’m older and have more to bring to it.

Lydia Lunch, photo by Bart D. Frescura

I had a hard time with watching her at first. I also thought it would be a lecture, but it was a performance combining spoken word, music, photography, and video. The texts often described violent and self-destructive behavior: drinking, drugs, offing lovers, burning oneself with cigarettes. Death and despair. And yeah, she’s angry. And loud. Think banshee. But as the performance went on I warmed up to her. She reflects our manytimes mad and violent world. Her screaming and defiance is appealing. Hopeful, even, in its enthusiasm and energy. I like her total refusal to give up or to give in. To keep fighting.

Learn why this post is incomplete.

Most of us are defined by someone else’s terms, and based on things over which we had no control: family, religion, race, ethnicity, caste. Some of us have more freedom. We can make our own decisions: who we marry, where we live, what we do. But along with this freedom has come increased fragmentation and isolation. As my Hassidic neighbor said to my roommate: “I feel so sorry for you.” Many of us have no sense of belonging.

When I log on to Facebook, I make choices about what goes on my page, who my “friends” are, and what groups I want to join. I can also track what others are “doing” and reach out to them in small, simple ways. Now I know that my mom’s oldest friend’s daughter (who I haven’t seen for years) is getting married — and gossip about how cute her finance is even before my mom gets the invite. I am in touch with long lost cousins. Former friends and classmates post old photos that bring back fond memories (so far I’ve been lucky). And this year I had my first Facebook birthday. Wow, did I ever feel important. (That said, I’m increasingly finding Facebook scary.)

Another example: Two weeks ago I got an out-of-character email from a colleague in Peru. He was testing out the Ning platform, which we plan to use to power the new telecentre.org website, and decided to create an network for the Argentinian half of his family. He’s usually no-nonsense, ironic, and reserved. This time he was enthusiastic, practically gushing. “In one week, 24 people have joined, 100 photos have been posted, and dozens of messages have been exchanged…. SPECTACULAR!!!! I haven’t felt this close to my cousins since the last time I was in Buenos Aires.”

Just as the Internet has dramatically reduced barriers to collaboration (see this Clay Shirkey video), social networking sites have reduced barriers to connecting. It’s just plain easy — and increasingly easy and normal to transform these virtual connections into the real-world relationships. Also I wonder if online social networks have the potential to reduce fragmentation. When I create my page I’m expressing my individuality (fake as that feeling may be) and at the same time I’m linking myself to others and defining my affiliations. But this time based on things I choose to be important — on my interests and my values.

We survived. Liam, my son, drew a lot and played with Keva planks and Playmobil and Lego (the old-school plain blocks, not the crappy new over-engineered co-branded sets). He’s 11 now and writes beautifully, has excellent grades, and consumes books at an alarming rate. He approaches playing tennis and piano with an amazing level of focus and discipline. I believe that this is due, in part, to the fact that early on he became a producer of content, rather than a consumer.

Iíve been thinking recently about consumption and production. I believe that producing — creating — is a revolutionary act. And I have been pushing myself to create. To make things. To write. What you’re reading now, and this web site, is a result of that push. It’s important for each one of us to engage, participate, and share.

I ran across this video yesterday, of Clay Shirkey speaking at the Web 2.0 conference, held in April 2008 in San Francisco, which touches on some of these ideas. It’s 15 minutes, and well worth your time. You can also read the transcript of his speech. Let me know what you think.