Before I get too poetic up here on my pedestal; a note in the interests of full disclosure: my inspiration for this posting was none other than the new comic book flick
Iron Man. With that out of the way and me totally exposed as the most immature meeting design professional in existence, let's have a look at this looming complexity and how it influences us all, and our meetings.
Me? I want a legacy. I want to live a life of significance and conscience. I want the world to know all about this great life I'm leading, and I want future generations to realize that the world they live in is a better place because of this one great individual. That's an ambitious (you could say over-ambitious, zealous, vain, maybe even delirious) and extreme perspective on the matter. But I don't think I'm the only one.
My interaction with legacy as a meeting designer or facilitator is typically a leader wishing to leave their mark on an organization before retiring. For many, the instinct is to dictate a direction that clearly bears their fingerprint. This is of course at the expense of collaboration, because the urge to have clear ownership is so strong.
I would try to frame a collaborative approach to an individual such as this as a part of the legacy. The true visionary worth remembering has vision enough to see the benefits of inclusiveness and collective intelligence. This is exceedingly difficult if you aren't aware of these motivations in advance of the meeting. Another reason why a thoughtful approach to meeting design that surfaces underlying motivations and interests is so important. Easier said than done though, obviously.
If you're interested: Iron Man did have a legacy with his "Tony Stark" identity. An epiphany of sorts gave him cause to shift what his war mongering legacy would be. The only epiphany I've had is that if I want to make my mark, I'd better get my ass in gear! Decades of waiting for my legacy to form itself hasn't been cutting it. I need a direction though. Maybe I'll start with a suit made of gold-titanium alloy and begin fighting crime. See where that takes me. I have it on good authority that I could pass as Iron Man, and have indeed been called him.
Any reactions to the broad theme of legacy? How does the innate urge that some people have to be remembered play out in your collaborative efforts? Better still, why does the urge exist?