Proposal

Early this morning, Amy and I completed our proposal to the Port. As always, the level of scrutiny we subjected this initiative to was both extensive and inadequate. No amount of looking today will ever give anyone a clear view of tomorrow, much less a few months from now. Yet an initial inquiry can uncover patterns, what I call viscosity and velocity. How steep is the climb? How fast is anyone likely to make it to the top?

We concluded from our last two weeks' investigation that we can add value, given some conditions and explicit agreements. What these conditions and agreements are, I'll save for after the Port has reviewed our proposal. One of our options was to just forgetaboutit. It's important to consider not doing something before stopping becomes too difficult to do.

Every initiative starts as a bright idea. Bright ideas are bright, shiny, and wholly unmanageable. The purpose of the proposal process is to consider deeply what this bright idea might be, and what it might become. We refer to this work as 'designing the project.' Many projects are not explicitly designed, but emerge, bright and shiny at the beginning, into a world they are wholly unprepared to cope with. When these efforts get the sniffles, they fall apart.

A well-designed initiative does not lean upon 'flat earth, benevolent God' assumptions. Instead, it acknowledges the world as it is and considers how to cope with that world, rather than trying to flatten the topography or pleading for divine intervention. So, we looked at similar initiatives here. How they worked and how they didn't, and proposed a strategy designed to work here.

Every good proposal complicates, and often utterly changes, the originating bright idea. Then both the proposer and the proposee encounter a dedication test. Can I stomach these complications? If so, the initiative might succeed. In not, it can reasonably anticipate encountering one damned thing after another disrupting the flow.

When I stand at the base of a pinnacle, I want to see the view from the top. I might overlook the inevitably dangerous route that must take me there. I know that none of my proposals ever delight my sponsor. He wants his bright, shiny idea, not the smashed finger, scraped knee, and sunburned forehead we should both reasonably expect from a challenging climb. Will we delight in the view from the top even after the harrowing climb? Best that we ask that question before we begin.