Physiological Synchrony or Collective Joy

I'm back to pondering Goleman's book. Yesterday's thought was about physiological synchrony--when a mood sweeps through a crowd with lightning speed. We've all experienced that--at ball games, concerts, sermons, aha moments in study groups, recreating with family and friends. I've always called it collective joy. These moments are unplanned--a blessing when they happen. So it's interesting to look at them more objectively. If we could understand what causes these moments of biological alignment, could we more often intentionally create them?

One of my creative outlets is to sing with a band called Highland Drive. These moments occur for us in rehearsal from time to time. There are moments of extraordinary fusion when we're all in sync and the music that comes out of us gives us goose bumps and raises the hair on the back of our necks. Those moments are always celebrated with "woo-hoos" and grins and high-fives. When those moments occur for us in live performance, it's doubly exciting. It's one thing to connect with the guys you spend a lot of time with, take risks with--amazing, but to be expected. It's another thing entirely to experience that connection with complete strangers. What is it that can transform an audience into one being?

Goleman says that one thing that opens the doors for these connections is the "absence of a power hierarchy." With no power structure, the person with the most emotionally expressive face sets the mood for the rest of the group. This can be dangerous. When you play it out in a decision-making group, one person can have a lot of power to change the moods and thinking of the rest of the group.

Goleman also references research that demonstrates the existence of a "gravity-like pull toward thinking and feeling alike" when we are involved in close relationships. I know this is true. In our school, my students meet twice a day in twenty minute advisories. They sit in a circle and check-in around what's going on in their lives and grapple with big ideas that we throw into the middle for discussion. There is no power structure in these circles and I am continually amazed by their openness and their growth. They are learning to respect and consider alternate points of view. They are learning that it's OK to ask questions, getting over their fears of looking foolish. And occasionally, we have those "goose bump moments" when we simultaneously discover new thought. It's beautiful.

I am reminded of the time near the end of the year when we were discussing Tupac Shakur's piece "The Rose That Grew From Concrete" and students came to all kinds of personal and group aha's. The conversation began on the surface--the "to be expected" comments about reaching for your dreams in spite of roadblocks. It turned when D. made the comment that not only is the rose reaching up toward the sun, but it's stretching downward and gathering nutrients from the soil. Goose Bumps! There was a full minute of silence and immediate group fusion as we all "got it" together. Then C. proposed that we answer that question--What is your soil and what is your concrete? Wow! Suddenly students were getting very real about the things that keep them strong--their foundations--and also opening up (some owning for the first time) about the things that hold them back.

The more of those moments that occur, the stronger a group becomes. So how have we created that in our advisories? I'm going to continue to think about that.