Up here in New England, spring finally seems to be on its way. Warmer weather means you may run into neighbors on the front porch and find yourself chatting, as I did this weekend, with the family that lives below us in our apartment building. Making sure to stand six feet apart, we didn’t talk about anything particularly noteworthy; we caught up about our lives, our work. We commiserated about toilet paper. Then, it dawned on me that this was one of the first extended conversations I’d had in the physical world — not via video chat — for a very long time. And it felt so good!

For me, there’s something about in-person contact that can’t be re-created via video chat. And I feel a deep sense of loss about that. Video flattens the nuances of body language. It forces interactions, especially among teams, into something different from a conversation. It feels like a parade of presentations, of “now it’s your turn to be on camera” moments. Indeed, it’s becoming clear that video conferencing is more stressful and exhausting than in-person conversations. And I feel that way, too.

Instead of recognizing this, the response to our new reality from many organizations has been to exacerbate that stress by hosting all manner of video-based social meetups, happy hours, and other gatherings in an effort to maintain company “culture” and morale through a trying time. The goal seems to be to re-create the way things were in an effort to protect employees from the way things now are.

But that’s impossible. The world is different now. My feeling is that organizations and the people of which they are comprised should be given the space to grieve that lost world. I think we are just now in the first stages of that. It has been said that denial is the first stage of grief. Perhaps the desire to keep things as close to the way they used to be is part of that denial.

So, what are some practical solutions for maintaining a sense of team cohesion in times of change and stress? What does a more authentic culture look like, one that acknowledges that we are undergoing a trauma? Here are some thoughts:

1. Recognize that this is hard. Don’t try to protect employees from the hardship by denying it or reframing it as something that can be solved via video chat or other forms of technology. This is hard. This requires grief. Own that.
2. Be transparent. If you lead a team, show your vulnerability. Maybe you’re scared, or overwhelmed, or just plain weirded out by all of this. Show that, so that others can feel like they can show it too. (Maybe even write a blog post about it and post it on your website?)
3. Lay off the meetings and let people be so they can figure out what works best for them. Let people know you’re there for them, but let people discover their pathway forward.
4. Connect authentically. Find a way to connect your team in ways that let them show what their real lives under social isolation are like. One strategy is to do a show and tell. We’ve been doing that each week for nearly a month now. We each show something meaningful from our homes. For me, it’s often bike stuff. For Sam, it’s inflatable unicorns with a gorilla on top. It’s a little ritual that acknowledges the oddity of our times, while giving us a real way to connect, to get to know more about each other, even when we can’t be with each other.

Things are different now. Let’s challenge ourselves to feel the loss of what came before, but to also find authentic joy in new places.

Now more than ever, it’s important to stay together, even while we stay apart. So I wanted to take a moment to personally wish you safety, health, and courage and to let you know about some recent events on our planet that have left me with new perspectives and a whole lot of gratitude.

Last week, a long-planned, long-anticipated trip to Patagonia came to a sudden end for me and my wife. While backpacking through Argentina’s Glaciares National Park, a ranger found us deep in the wilderness (in the shadow of Mt. Fitzroy, to be exact) and told us to pack up our tent and get out. All Argentine National Parks were closed in response to COVID-19.

Thus began a harrowing journey back home.

It took us 10 miles to hike out, and when we emerged, we found a changed world. Luckily, and by complete happenstance, we heard that the Argentine border was closing in just a few hours, leaving us little time to drive 300 miles to get back into Chile, our only way back to the US. 

With barely any sleep, we packed up and drove through the early morning hours, hopeful that we would avoid one of the many checkpoints the Argentine police had set up to enforce quarantines on all foreigners. Eventually, we managed to find an obscure border crossing on a potholed dirt road. My heart pounded as we approached the border guards, but thankfully, we were allowed to cross. 

Had we not heard about the border closing we’d still be in Argentina under quarantine. Many from the US, Europe, and elsewhere are still caught there with limited options–including a Belgian family of four we befriended.

Once in Chile, we had to decide if it was even wise to return home, as the situation in South America is much less dire than in Europe and the US, with far fewer cases and limited community spread (so far). Ultimately, though, we did decide to return. The pull of home, of familiarity and community, outweighed the risk. And I wanted to be closer to the Planet Nutshell team during the crisis. 

However, by the time we’d made the decision to come home, we found most flights were cancelled. Somehow (again, a pure stroke of good look) we ended up on a flight to Sao Paulo, Brazil, and from there, we boarded one of the last flights to the States. 

All told, it took us six days to get home after the park ranger evicted us. And throughout it all, the Planet Nutshell team has shown incredible resiliency, courage, and kindness. They’ve shown me yet again what a special group we have managed to assemble. I am deeply grateful.

There is no way to know how this situation will resolve. The only thing that’s for sure is that we will be all surely changed by it. At Planet Nutshell, we know change — however frightening — will push us to grow, to discover, and to help. 

Our team continues to work remotely and we remain open for business. To all those in the Planet Nutshell orbit, I invite you to reach out and say hello. Let us know how you are in this trying time.

Stay safe and be well.