I can’t believe this beautiful and challenging year is coming to a close. For me, it’s been a bit of a doozy (though what ‘a bit’ is, I think, is in the eyes of the beholder). And the changes keep coming — from the global news cycle to my own little world.
Maybe doozy comes from dozer, as in bulldozer. As in knocking down what feels like fixed structures — from the al-Assad regime in Syria to my construction of certain relationships — and leaving behind an implicit (or explicit) invitation to put things together somehow in a better way.
I am not saying these bulldozer changes aren’t worth having, because many times, they are. It’s just that in the doozy, change is foisted upon us, rather than something we are actively choosing. So it can be shocking and confronting in the moment and in the aftermath. Yet, despite that, the upheaval initiates forward movement, which I see can be helpful if things have been stagnant for awhile.
In my work with different organizations and teams this year, as well as in my own life, I have been thinking about how difficult it is to change. I would have thought that choosing to change was easier than being forced to change, because I would have more ‘control’ in the situation, more choice about how and when I get into my stretch zone. Yet, upon further contemplation, I think freaking out about change is a common experience, no matter what. Probably because it means coming out of my comfort zone, which is inherently uncomfortable. And, I think change can be especially hard when my panic zone has become my comfort zone. That is to say, when patterns of divisive or debilitating behavior become so entrenched that they feel ‘normal’ and anything that is more connective, slow, kind, open, etc., feels ‘weird’.
So, what does it take to shift out of norms that don’t serve and do something different? What supports us get unstuck and try on strange new practices until they become more easeful? How can change — of patterns, behaviors, mindsets — be less freaky and more do-able?
In a conversation with a friend recently, the term ‘micro-dosing’ came up. Very different from the doozy/dozer of everything, everywhere, all at once, this is more in the spirit of opening a little at a time, trying on small shifts in practice, with the faith that they give rise to bigger ones as we go along. Here, I am thinking of micro-dosing less in the realm of psychedelics, and more in the spirit of how a bee gathers pollen, flower by flower, and then joins with many others to make honey in the hive.
For example, I have seen the impact of practicing listening without interrupting and how quickly that changes the energy, how easily it makes people feel heard and respected. Or, the power of ‘speaking from the I’ (instead of the outward projected ‘you’ or the general amorphous ‘we’) and how it reflects more honesty and vulnerability, which makes it easier to understand myself and to become more aware of others. I have seen, over and over in YES! Jams, how those little changes open the door to greater depths together as a community. They provide a solid foundation that builds trust and from which we can explore complex areas, like race, gender, class, leadership, vision, grief, longing, mental health, addiction, and so much more.
It’s not always possible to engage with micro-dosing, obviously, like when something drastic or dramatic happens and pulls the rug out from under me. And, yet, outside of those crisis/chrysalis situations, or maybe even after them, what if micro-dosing as a practice could support change at all levels — internally, interpersonally and systemically? Maybe it could provide a more easeful pathway forward, and free us from the judgement and heaviness of the all-or-nothing approach to change, i.e., If we don’t change everything (about ourselves, about our relationships, about our world), it doesn’t count. Maybe change could become as light as pollen.
Let me give some examples from my own life and work with others. In a recent trip, I faced a tough truth about an important relationship. I realized that I am not going to be as close as I want to this person, because we have different approaches to dealing with conflict between us. While it hit me hard at the time, now, in the aftermath, I am working to micro-dose the internal change. My inner critic wants me to draw all kinds of conclusions/solutions and build walls to keep myself safe. Instead of riding that train, I’m slowing myself down to ask, What do I actually need in this present moment? I am not in imminent danger, so could I let myself integrate this perspective and see what emerges? Here, micro-dosing means simply feeling my grief, as I release my story of having a particular kind of connection. I don’t need to figure out any more than that right now. Underneath this small action is the faith that something more accurate to both of our needs and capacities will emerge in time. So, for now, feeling what I feel and being in the unknown is enough.
In these times, with so much shifting on a daily basis and so much unknown, I sense that micro-dosing change will let me be more present and allow for more emergence. As my friend Eli Ramos shared, it is such a contrast to what I’ve been told to do as a leader, i.e., to have a plan, get everyone in line, and proceed directly to the goal. Instead, from my heart, I am feeling out one little change I can make, and then pausing to see what unfolds from there. It is a lot more vulnerable, sitting in the mystery, and at the same time, a lot more flexible and intuitive. It reminds me of Lyndsey Scott’s lovely song, The Way Knows: “You don’t have to know the way. The way knows the way.”
Actually, micro-dosing change can make it a lot less overwhelming. I am remembering my own transition out of my role as an Executive Director of 11+ years. Initially, when I’d think about everything that needed to happen, I wanted to quit before I began, or at least find a shortcut to the end. Yet, the only way through was putting one foot down, and then slowing down to sense where the next foot would fall, and going on from there. So many unpredictable things happened along the way, and I got to meet them with breath and space because I wasn’t beholden to a preconceived plan. Also, as a result of the incremental transition, many hands of support were able to join in the journey. When it was over and the change was ‘done’, I looked back and felt proud of the way it unfolded, bit by bit, with grounding, realness, wholeness.
With conflict transformation, I think micro-dosing can be particularly helpful. I have seen that it actually takes quite a lot from each person to forge a different path forward out of their own choice, vs. continuing with the norms that have become established, no matter how destructive they are. And so it helps to do a little at a time and let it settle before adding more to the process. When I am working with people in a conflict mediation, this means leaving a bit of space between the discovery (my prep conversation with each person to hear them and support their readiness to be in the mediation) and the first mediation session, and then leaving some time (a few days or a week) between each subsequent session. That’s because undoing the stories that get established in the mind takes effort, especially if I have been sure that I am right and they are wrong (which is usually the case in conflict situations). Breaking up that concretized perception is not easy. So practicing sharing and listening over a few sessions, and letting that shift come in small doses, instead of expecting it to happen all at once, can be very helpful.
A small example came up in a conflict navigation workshop I was co-facilitating last week. A participant said our demonstration of setting a context, sharing impacts and intentions, and the backstories behind them, and listening and mirroring, was completely unrealistic, and he would feel like a manipulative salesman trying to do that with his colleagues. I could understand where he was coming from, because he was seeing a lot of changes practiced all at once, and so the conversation that resulted was quite different from his typical experiences (and, therefore, unrealistic). Instead of trying to convince him, however, my collaborator and I honored his perspective and invited him to try it on in a small group, to stretch with whatever part he could and notice how he felt in actually doing it. When we got back together, he shared that he learned that he could mirror in his own way, starting with “Let me make sure I am understanding you” instead of “What I am hearing you say is,” which felt more authentic for him. I got excited because I could see him micro-dosing on multiple levels. For one, he made a slight change in the wording, which let him re-engage with the content of the workshop, rather than check out. For another, taking in this little part gave him an actual step that he felt he could take forward and practice more.
I only wish I had introduced the language of micro-dosing there in the workshop. Ah, well. All good things come with 20-20 hindsight.
Maybe micro-dosing is what is happening all the time in movements for change. All of the work happening in the edges and cracks; all of the millions of moments of connection, insight, practice; all of the myriad of hands and hearts engaging together. Maybe those pivotal watershed moments — the ones that get all the attention — steal the thunder from the constant micro-dosing changework. It doesn’t get seen or valued because it is, by definition, small. And yet, I try to remind myself that before the British quit India, before the Berlin Wall fell, before South African apartheid ended, before marriage equality was legalized, there were millions of people steadfastly holding a vision and taking steps towards it. All of those little actions paved the way to those big changes. And, it is still happening today.
Maybe we can take a page from EF Schumacher’s 50-year-old book, Small Is Beautiful, and encourage more micro-dosing everywhere. Personally, I want to approach my own life and the world this way, especially after this US election and all the world events that keep coming down the pike. I want to micro-dose on both ends — how much I intake and how much I output at any given time. I also want to slow down what I think I know and am sure of. There is so much more mystery than I can possibly imagine.
I want to be like the bee: take in a bit at a time and trust that it’s enough. I can listen for change from the present moment and my sensing self. I can let myself be guided to the next flower. I can put my part together with the collective hive and let go of holding the weight on my own. I can have faith that the honey will get made.
What internal, interpersonal, and/or systemic change are you or could you be micro-dosing? I would love to hear about it in the comments if you’re willing to share.




In InterPlay Body Wisdom we call it incrementality. If I were to add a principle to our wisdom it would be Take Your Time!
thanks Shilpa , another cracker !
a similar concept to "micro-dosing"
is to "ease our way into something"
in the mainstream culture of caffeine , sugar , alcohol , tobacco .... it allows us to jump into things .
but sobriety needs a slower approach .
especially with lots of trauma around .
in partucular ,
to ease our way onto our yoga mat ,
or ease our way towards our sketch pad ,
or easing our way onto the ecstatic dancefloor
Easing our way = a flow-sequence of micro-doses