Data and Its Conceits
Say something. Sitting across the room from a wall of books, I stare and wait. The "library" in my office is an interior space with two large couches and three rows of nearly overflowing shelves. The collection includes diverse subjects underpinning Foresight's social impact work over the years, topics like sustainable business, social justice, graphic design, and facilitation. Knowledge is power. If I had read all of it, I would be wiser. At least we have the books. They're a kind of foundation, a visible manifestation of what under girds often intangible, cerebral projects. This is a comfortable work and contemplation space that I use when I tire of sitting at my desk, or need to satiate our insistent pup's need to cuddle. It's not a critical space but, then again, as landlords are experiencing all around the city, the entire office isn't really. I don't lack any definitive, external data that will inform my decision whether to renew the lease for the space. There is none. The pros for staying are that I generally like the space and am used to it. The cons are the expense and somewhat noisy neighbors. The decision rests on the nature of and belief in my ambition. I've never had the kind of multi-year "strategic plan" that many of our nonprofit clients hire consultants like us to produce and then struggle to heed. We help them collect input so they can try to anticipate an unpredictable future, define a definitive direction, assuage a pervasive, unsettling sense of ambiguity. I know the shortcomings; the past is not a predictor. Some thing else, less tangible more faith-based, is required. I sit and ponder, waiting for the books, so silent, potent, and powerful, to talk. Where would they go? Where should I?
