Monthly Archives: March 2026

Move at the Speed of Trust

When I joined NYC Quakers, our buildings were neglected and the audit had 126 open items. We had a stretched skeleton team. And I wasn’t sure where to start.

Around this time, I came across adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy. Brown is a facilitator and writer who’s worked with major social organizing movements including Black Lives Matter and Occupy Wall Street; her framework draws on Octavia Butler’s Earthseed philosophy, which I fell in love with when I read Parable of the Sower.

Parable of the Sower is worth a read. Here’s just one of the gems:

All that you touch / You change. All that you change / Changes you. / God is Change.

The work you do changes you as you do it. You can’t stand outside it. Instead you work within it. Transforming and being transformed.

Brown’s title caught my eye because it referenced a concept from a business course on disruptive innovation I’d taken that outlined deliberate and emergent strategies. Deliberate strategy works when the landscape and outcomes are known. You’re running a marathon, you’ve run shorter races, you have a base of fitness. You grab an off-the-shelf training plan and execute. Emergent strategy is for when you’re discovering the landscape and holding outcomes loosely. You experiment. You set shorter interim goals and see what sticks.

When I arrived three years ago I knew our landmarked meeting houses had good bones but needed TLC after years of deferred maintenance. Instead of arriving with a vision, I did three things:

100 conversations in 100 days. I wanted to understand the landscape before trying to change it. What did people care about? What was working? What wasn’t? What excited people? What gave them pause?

Listen and make no major changes. This was harder than it sounds. There’s an expectation that leaders arrive with answers. I had hunches, but I held them loosely. Brown writes: “Move at the speed of trust.” That’s what those early months were — moving slowly enough to build trust before asking anyone to follow me somewhere new. This is especially true in Quaker contexts where “leadings” can and do come from everywhere.

Log and fix small things. A broken link, a missing door stopper, a sign that needed posting. Brown calls this “small is good, small is all” — the idea that large patterns reflect small ones. Nothing strategic, just things that made our places a little better and signaled that we were listening and acting on what we heard and saw.

Brown also writes about “critical connections over critical mass.” Those early months were about connection: not building consensus for a big move, but learning who the organization actually was.

The book’s core frame has stayed with me as we continue the work: when you’re transforming, you can’t execute a known playbook. You have to discover the path by walking it — and let it change you along the way.

Now we have a strong team in place to nurture our spaces and our community. We’re still listening, noticing, learning and doing. Our strategy is emerging.

If your organization knows what it is and where it’s going and how to get there, you probably don’t need this book. If it’s trying to figure that out, the frame might give you permission to experiment instead of pretending you have answers you don’t.

What’s a book that’s helped you in your role? What’s something that’s stayed with you?

The App I Built Instead of Reading (That Now Helps Me Read)

I got the idea from a recent Hard Fork episode about “vibe coding.” Everyone seems to be using AI to build software by describing what you want rather than writing code yourself–something beyond my current skill set, until now. But what to code?

I have a love/hate relationship with Libby, the well-crafted app from Overdrive that lets you get e-books from your local library. My pain point: I’d browse NPR’s “Books We Love” list, find something interesting, check whether it’s available at Brooklyn Public Library, discover it has a 12-to-24-week wait, add it to my hold list, and then weeks later when it finally arrived have no idea why I’d wanted it in the first place. The context was gone.

So I built an app to solve it. In a long afternoon, on a holiday. Without knowing how to code.

I mean, I’ve made some things. FileMaker databases to track community organizations back in the day. Some DOS batch files. Simple web pages and maybe a form here and there. A WordPress site. But nothing like this. This is a web app with filtering, a chat interface powered by Claude and integration with multiple data sources. When I managed a mobile app team at Consumer Reports, a minimum viable product like this would have been at least one sprint or a couple weeks of work. Here it was a few hours of me talking to Claude Code, and I had fun doing it. All of a sudden the gap between what I had envisioned and reality was passable.

I named it “Great Reads Now!” and it does one thing well: shows me great books that are available right now at my library. No waiting, no forgetting why. It pulls titles from NPR’s “Books We Love,” the New York Times Best Books list, and AudioFile’s best audiobooks. I can filter by genre, toggle between ebooks, audiobooks, and print, and hit “Spin Again” to get three random picks. Initially I had it show everything but I found the number of options overwhelming, so three it was.

But what if I wanted something more personal? So I added a chat feature. I can tell it “I just finished something heavy, want something lighter” and it recommends from the available pool. That’s an interaction Libby might have but doesn’t yet — a conversation instead of a long list of thousands of available titles which may or may not be to my liking.

I also added print book availability and a ThriftBooks search for when I’d rather own it and scribble in the margins. When I showed a friend — a Python user who builds math problem sets for his classes — he asked for a copy. Said he’d actually use it. So with Claude Code’s help it’s now on my very first GitHub repository: github.com/ted-bongiovanni/npr-bpl-checker

What it cost

I’ve led software teams that build apps. I know roughly what this would have cost: a UX person, a developer, a PM — three people, two weeks, real money in loaded labor costs, plus all the coordination overhead. I did it with a Claude account and $5 in API credits for the chat interface.

The value is in knowing what to build and why. That said, you might have to go through the process of making it to realize if it’s worth the effort. For me, this was more of a learning project–what can I do with my imagination and these new tools?

The app works because I had identified a real, if minor pain point. Because I’d lived with the Libby frustration for years, I had a good sense of which features mattered (the “show me three” randomizer) and which were noise (I thought Goodreads ratings would be handy, but they cluster so tightly they’re useless for decisions — I made them a toggle, a feature I’ll likely deprecate).

What this isn’t

It’s not production software. My API (Application Programming Interface) key is probably in the wrong place. The data refresh is manual. If I wanted to share it publicly, I’d need a backend, user accounts, rate limiting. The gap between “works for me” and “works for everyone” is real.

But for me and my geeky friends? It is real software. It runs. It solves a problem. And I understand the shape of it well enough to keep adding features.

The trap (and the escape)

I’ll admit it: I built an elaborate tool for finding books and then spent several days building more tools instead of reading. Classic builder’s trap. I had 40 pages left in a novel about Taiwan that I’d started so I’d have context for where my daughter is studying abroad.

But I did finish it. And then I used the app to find my next read — one that was available immediately. I also started an audiobook about John Lewis that I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.

So the tool works. Now I just have to keep using it for its intended purpose: reading, not building.

Update: Since writing this post, I shipped a second app — Bike Crash Log, a personal tool for bike commuters to track rides, report crashes, and log safety conditions. Different problem, same process: a real frustration, a conversation with an AI, and a working tool by the end of the day. And I had fun doing it.