#context: bird was in the parking lot of my apartment for 2 days without moving

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[snowdice]

First Anniversary (Part 1) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: Logan, Patton, Remy (only in the fist part)

Summary:

Logan and Patton go on a trip for their first anniversary. It’s mostly fluff (except just a bit in chapter 3).

(It’s part of a series but it literally doesn’t matter except for like 1 joke so if you want to just see them being dumb and in love, you can read this without context.)

Notes: Superhero AU (really doesn’t matter at all), fluff, so much fluff, just a hint of angst in the middle, but overwhelmed by fluff rather quickly, past child neglect/abuse, they’re soft husbands

Take this as an apology for the Gaps in His Files update. It takes place 2 and a half years-ish after Gaps ends.

Logan double and tripled checked his mental list as he waited outside his car in the hospital parking lot. Everything needed was packed in the car, the apartment was locked and the lights were all off, and he had a full tank of gas. Everything was perfect, and now he just had to wait for Patton to arrive. He should have gotten off 5 minutes ago but would need to get his things from his locker and make his way to the parking lot.

He was watching the door Patton would come out of intently so he immediately saw when two figures exited the building and started moving toward the parking lot.

Remy nudged Patton and pointed at Logan when they got close and Patton looked over. Patton’s eyes lit up when they fell on him and Logan felt himself smile back.

“Oh god,” Remy said with an eyeroll when they were in range. “Have a good sex weekend you two.” Patton reached over to slap him on the shoulder lighter than Logan would have done, but Logan couldn’t be too displeased by his lack of sufficient violence considering the next moment he was in Logan’s arms.

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How was work, dear?”

“Long,” Patton mumbled into his chest.

“He’s been rotating between being excited about the trip and complaining that he’s not already on the trip all day,” Remy offered. “I expect restitution for my suffering in the form of coffee when you get back.”

Logan’s eyes flickered to him. “Could you just leave?”

“They’re canoodling in the hospital parking lot and tell me to leave like I’m in their bedroom,” Remy mumbled to himself even as he continued to his car and opened the door. Logan felt Patton shake his head in exasperation against his chest. “See you two next week.”

When Patton pulled back from the hug, Logan pressed a kiss to his cheek eliciting a grin. “I brought you dinner that you can eat in the car,” he said, taking Patton’s hand and pulling him toward the vehicle, “as well as the largest sized hot chocolate that I could find. If you don’t want that, I also brought bottles of water.”

“The hot chocolate is perfect,” Patton told him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive at least part of the way?”

“It’s only a two-hour drive and I have the map memorized already so it makes more sense for me to drive rather than give directions.”

“If you’re sure,” Patton said with a smile, tugging softly at his tie.

Logan leaned into him. “I’m sure.”

“Mmmkay,” Patton agreed, pushing up on his tiptoes to kiss him soundly. They were interrupted by a loud car honk. Logan drew back and “waved” at Remy as he drove out of the parking lot.

“Logan!” Patton gasped, scandalized, but he couldn’t even manage to keep the chiding look on his face for more than a moment.

“He deserves it,” Logan grumbled.

Patton laughed lightly. “Yeah, he probably does.”

Logan pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and then opened the passenger side door for him. Patton picked up his dinner off his seat before he hopped in. Logan rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Happy anniversary eve, eve, eve!” Patton chirped happily when he started the car.

Logan chuckled and grabbed his hand to press a quick kiss to his knuckles. “I think that saying so when there are that many ‘eve’s is perhaps unnecessary, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Patton just grinned and unwrapped the sandwich Logan had brought him to take a bite.

Patton giggled suddenly as they were pulling out of the parking lot.

“What?” Logan asked, glancing over at him.

“You flipped him the bird,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Bluebird flipped him the bird.”

Logan sighed. “That is your one allocated pun for this trip.”

“Well, I sure hope I don’t accidently say another one. I don’t what to know the consequences if I trip up again.”

“I’m driving home,” he said dryly even as he took the wrong turn for that, Patton giggling all the way.

[joyatlarge-blog]

The Anatomy of a Good Facilitator

Q: What are the characteristics and practices of a great facilitator?

A: This is a question posed a few times to date and its possibilities never fail to paralyse me. It has had enough time to simmer into a coherent pattern, and using energy from an afternoon conversation about this, I have decided to organise my response in writing.

Until this time, I had what were principles of facilitation I practice, but this invites a participants' perspective and its relationship to the facilitator's behind-the-scenes take on why that is. 

But first, I will reduce the scope and ambition of this question to this:

Q: What makes a good facilitator? 

A: Parking practice aside, which deserves a curriculum in itself, I decided to subsume characteristics into sort-of pillars describing a good facilitator. 

Part of my mid-year review involves a scan of feedback from sponsors over the past six months, and what I remember of specific positive feedback. The other part of my review is feedback from my mentors and those who see how it runs under the hood. I trust their intuition and their expertise, and I believe this will make a well-rounded observation on what I believe makes a good facilitator. 

All this to say, this summary is work-in-progress and something to build on as different experiences elapse. Before I launch into an X-steps listicle, I'll start from the very outset to give context to the deep tissue.

On the Surface

Participants who have gone through a positive experience tend to describe the description as unexpectedly "collaborative" describing both the process and other participants, "aligning" when surprised by how much in common a diverse group can share, "fun" as far as professionals can go.

Specific anecdotes from sponsors include some tough characters, usually senior executives, who walk in the day with scepticism, and during the course of the workshop, begin to display behaviours which surprise them: they are engaged, cooperative, laughing, and look like they are enjoying themselves. My delight is hearing accounts of participants who are shocked by the more pleasant side of difficult characters they have not yet seen. I can sense the nervous laughter during the sessions, but take care that bureaucracy stays at the door. 

The other descriptors include "open" and "honesty", again, describing both the process, participants and sponsors. "Challenging", "complex" describe the problem they are learning to solve, and "thinking outside the box" expresses their mind space.

All of these, and more, are the how participants leave the workshop they felt on the whole went great. Now to address the other side of the coin.

Under the Hood

I hear this from practitioners I respect, which is: to participants, we do not seem to do very much. The only apparent work I do, apart from graphically facilitating group debriefs, is room set up, reset work stations in between exercises, sometimes serve lunch if we're working through the hour, and pack up. 

It is not apparent that deliberate preparation goes into every physical, material, place, emotional and intellectual thought process. Wires are not meant to be seen or understood when they pull away from the experience. 

This moves me on to the listicle. To caveat, these are values and characteristics I will work hard for and aspire to what makes a good facilitator:

 1. A good facilitator is precise. 

Workshops, or any problem-seeking/finding expression for that matter, require intuitive investigation. This serves to get under the skin of the very matter; to nail the exact brief requires a relentless and unapologetic pursuit for it, normally by asking questions which abstract and stretch, play with the data given. I'd say 70% of a good workshop is finding clarity in the problem, and the precise landing. 

This precision guides the design process. The facilitator's design holds the workshop, by holding, I mean more like a hug which loosely wrangles the chaos, more than a strongman's deadlift. Every input serves the purpose. Nothing is there by accident; including the thoughts which run through participants' minds. Exercises will adapt to the group during the day, but as long as the landing is clear, your design will bring you there with precision. This applies to programmes that extend beyond workshops.

 2. A good facilitator listens.

A good facilitator listens deeply to navigate complexity with intuition. From the very beginning, and coupled with deep listening and curiosity, a good facilitator is able to take in volumes of new, complex information, and cut through to the problem. Often the problem is not explicitly stated, even after several dispensations of why's, what you often hear is not what the sponsor truly needs to solve. Listening deeply is hearing what people are really saying but not speaking out loud.

This applies in-session as well; a good facilitator listens generatively to synthesise the group's voice on-the-spot. Kelvy Bird summarises this well from the angle of scribing:

...we sense into and help surface the highest potentiality for the systems we serve...

 3. A good facilitator believes...

...in people. One of the mantras I bring to my workshops is the belief that every person is a whole, creative and resource individual who has the solution. This is one of the hardest truth for sponsors to grasp: I have seen some try to take control out of ego, anxiety, not understanding that the more they exert control, the poorer the results will be. In a way, it lives up to classical management theory that people become what you entrust them with. I see this over and over again; when you trust they are able, they can, and they will outperform. Your role is to give them the conditions and tools to get there.

...in the process. Otherwise known as the principles of design. Facilitators are not locked into their straws (detailed plans) but they have a development arc which if they believe is a good design will guide the group to its precise outcome. This is because a lot of thinking, preparation, absorbing contingencies and unknowns are part of the design, and the direction is clear.

...in beauty. Call it UX, experience design, or whatever, but it is creating an elegant solution which might look like a palace of spaghetti (in this case, pages of a straw with a long paper trail of sketch notes) on the underside, which participants will never feel or be aware about in the least. The engineering of an ah-ha moment coupled with the spontaneity life breathes into it. Effortless, marvellous, and somewhat mysterious. 

4. A good facilitator is independent...

...of content. A good facilitator does not have to stay out of content as far as it informs design and helps the group towards its outcome. Content is there to serve the group's, not their own outcomes. If the facilitator is not a content expert, they are less likely to plug their views into the session. However, a facilitator conversant in content allows them to navigate discussions better through pivoting questions and synthesis.

...of people. Group curation is important for optimal outcomes. A good facilitator is aware of the levels of knowledge and power in the room, though they are set aside during the session: no one is better or more influential than anyone else if we wish for every participant to make an equal contribution. 

...of outcome. A good facilitator surrenders their desire to the group's outcome. Content experts who double hat as a facilitator in their own field struggle with this. The ability to hold back and trust the group to arrive at their learnings is not for most people. One case turned into a demanding teacher, mostly talking at, rather than educating the session. 

Equally, if a sponsor is not able to let go of his preconceived solutions from the outset, they either the workshop has little meaning for a collective outcome or the facilitator becomes a tool for manipulation. We draw an ethical line on this. A facilitated session is deeply affecting and will not be used to push a sole agenda without the group's alignment.

 6. A good facilitator is insatiably curious.

Curiosity about people and their thought processes is paramount. Facilitation life is over when you stop being curious. Curiosity is an intrinsic value to openness, and like improvising, it requires you to be hyper-attentive to the elements in your environment. 

Csikszentmihalyi calls this state being in flow: in practice, that closing voice of defensiveness has no space to operate because your mind is trained constantly on why and how others interact with content, the space and each other. When you genuinely listen, you have no inner dialogue that interferes with the intensity you give to the room. Your mind is constantly looking for what improvisers call 'offers', the energy, themes, ideas, which accelerate the group to their outcome which override your tactical processes. 

 5. A good facilitator is creative. 

Another way to think about this is in terms of adaptability. A good facilitator is highly adaptive to their environment while influencing it. Looking at this like tight feedback loops, the facilitator feeds back to the group in real time so the group is able to learn quickly and adapt towards their goals in an accelerated way: whether it is learning to work with a new group for the first time, or even learning about the problem they are trying to solve, and sometimes both at the same time. 

When working with people towards a precise outcome, a good facilitator is able to sculpt both content and process so that her design will bring them there; it sounds simple but complexities are found in

i) missing information, i.e. who's showing up

ii) unapparent information, i.e. who knows what and

iii) unpredictability, i.e. collective dynamic and synergies.

Borrowing from architecture, a good facilitator is able to sandbox their blueprint to explore several contingencies and purpose parameters, then work out the design details of wiring, interior, furniture, and where people will move about or gather. Likewise, designing for a facilitated session requires creatively abstract information at a meta level, and exercising creativity at every level of detail that cascades down, like workshop exercises, group settings, room layout, walls, and type of pens, feel, colour. 

Working across subjects, there is a call for intellectual flexibility and sometimes contortion. The fact is there is only so much to know in so little time, so creativity is applied under constraints - how does one curate the knowledge required for the group given to produce a meaningful outcome, accommodating what we do not know about their levels of knowledge.

 7. A good facilitator is improvises well.

Prefacing this statement, a good facilitator has access to several tools to improvise from. Equally, she is also able to create from constraints. These are symbiotic: the more she has available, the more she has to play with even when she has less freedom. 

In context of precision, a good facilitator also knows how to source, abstract, and redesign content that will move the group's thinking tracks, and relational tracks. They are willing to be present to the moment, and when they moment calls for it, release their own preconceived designs, and take up what the group offers in line with the higher purpose.

Worth mentioning is embodiment, and other visual, audio facilities. The body and other tools are also sensors, receiving and emitting information; improv work is a good way to become connected to your body language which does more than you can say to move the room. 

 The Ultimate Quest

So all that said, what do I think makes a good facilitator: it is their store of creativity and curiosity to design precise human experiences, and outcomes for a group of people. At the very heart, it is about individuals who are a collective as capable of more. 

Not unique to facilitation, but a good facilitator also inspires others to develop their styles because it is joyfully productive, and give the news like gospel to their professional and personal communities. 

This can't be all and there is so much more to say about group curation, collaboration, how to practice the craft, in-session flying, and design spokes. One of my greatest fascinations with facilitation is the way it will continue to evolve with the needs of the world; after all, the greatest catalyst for human advancement are the questions which shape them, and what better way to do this than through human (dare I say human-machine?) collaboration. 

Let's see what the future holds. I will revisit this when more clarity blossoms.