Life is a Group Project

I remember the teacher being excited, and I was unsure of what was happening. Soon, I was sitting in a small group with three other second graders in my class. We’d heard some instructions that had not made much sense. We were told it was now time to start working. Together. This was a GROUP project. 

Many people do not have sweet memories of those group projects from grade school. Maybe, like me, you just remember a few of the hazy details—Chip was always talking, Kara tried to boss everyone around, and Stacy hardly said a word and didn't do any of the work we tried to cajole her into doing. 

We were all glad when we moved back to our usual way of working, on our own, when the project was done. Less conflict. Less grief. Fewer awkward dynamics with classmates I had liked before the dreaded group project. After one or two of these kinds of experiences, in grade school or later in life, most of us decide that doing our OWN work is easier. 

Except that doing our own work is not how it works. Life, in fact, is a group project. 

You’re born into a group, with a mother and a father in some form of a family constellation. You have grandmothers, uncles, and cousins. Siblings are constants in your life as you navigate sharing, trust, and saying I’m sorry. Relationships are a core element of how we survive, work, and love. 

Around that same time of my first 2nd-grade group project, I announced to my mother that I was going to be an architect. In architecture school, we did lots of group projects because, like life, making buildings is also a group project. 

It was during those late nights in the studio with a new set of classmates that I learned that relationships and group projects are where the magic of life happens. The art and science of making buildings and spaces requires collaboration and communication. Within that process, as part of a team, the inspiration and capacity of the group catalyzes something no one person could have created on their own. Relationships are what make it all worth doing. And relationships make it better than doing it on our own. 

What matters in my relationships is arriving with curiosity and practicing the art of allowing for what might unfold. It's giving and holding space for what we can do together. No math equation can explain what it’s like to bring a group of strangers together, spend 5 days exploring breathwork, nature, and curiosity, and then witness lives and hearts that have made tectonic shifts by having spent that time and space together. 

What matters to you in your relationships? 

If you’re ready to explore this question in a meaningful way, I invite you to download the "What Matters" Reflection Exercise—a simple yet powerful tool to gain clarity and alignment, connect more deeply with someone you care about, or make an important decision for life or work.