Author: Tenneson Woolf

This title comes from a blog post that I read this morning. Tuesday Ryan Hart, a friend and colleague is the person who wrote it. There is an honesty in it that I appreciate as she describes an experience with another friend and colleague, Tim Merry.

What’s honest for me is that I too hunger for a resolution. For good reasons. And for convenient reasons.

I love it that Tuesday is committed to keeping the dialogue open and on-going. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t experiments and a “todo” list. It does mean that the fundamental need is to stay in relationship, which doesn’t end.

Here are more of her words from the post. It’s worth reading the whole of it too.

• We have resolution, but it isn’t real, or it is superficial.  It might address the current circumstance but it doesn’t give us any capacity to deal with future occurrences.
• Forcing resolution can lead to short-term alleviation of feelings and discomfort but may have no real meaningful impact beyond making us feel better in the moment.
• Our relationships are not rooted in reality as we move from our lived experiences of each other to a set of “should” or “shouldn’ts”.
• Our relationships become more vulnerable to future disruption.   We aren’t able to build the resilience  – we don’t get the practice necessary – to face future challenges.
• As process facilitators we undermine the work of the group because we don’t allow the discomfort or learning that comes from it.

I was on the phone today with friend Bob Stilger. He spoke this phrase, “hinges of time” to describe my upcoming weekend.

My son is graduating from high school tomorrow. Yes, in a blink, it seems. Even though it has long been visible in front of us. It will mark a change, of course. I’m proud of him. Graduation is a part of that. I’m proud of the person he is and has become.

Immediately after his graduation, I’m returning to my hometown of Edmonton, Alberta to gather with family and honor my Grandpa Billy Gould, who passed away last month. To share stories. To be together. To laugh. To cry.

Hinges. They connect one thing to another. I think of doors to walls. I think of entryways, one room to another.

“Things come through the hinges of time,” Bob said. “They are significant moments that change life or the relational web of life.”

Perhaps.

I’m proud of both of these individuals. At this point, my son enters another stage of adult life. Our relationship enters another phase. There will always be dad and son. This hinge will likely bring on a next stage of adult and adult. With Grandpa, the oldest generation is passing. Now I’m the one telling more stories, just like Grandpa used too. My turn. My heritage.

And I’m grateful Bob and people like him that make it easy to reflect.

I’m noticing I’m a bit full with words these last few days. I feel myself stretched externally into extroverted and am really needed the internal and introverted.

At times like this I need other mediums. Quiet. Nature. Music. Yah, there’s still words in the music, but it’s a different feeling.

The song that is looping in me lately is called Soulshine. I first heard my friend Roq play and sing it a few weeks ago. The version I’m listening to is Warren Haynes (of Allman Brothers, etc.) live at Bonnaroo. It’s got a good gritty, scratchy, folk feel to it. Not smaltzy or sappy. I notice I can’t help but close my eyes, tap my feet, and sway with it.

I’m trying to give myself permission to go inside. It feels good.

When you can’t find the light,
that guides you through a cloudy day.
When the stars ain’t shining bright,
it feels like you’ve lost your way.

When the candle light of home
burns so very far away
oh you go to let your soul shine
just like my daddy used to say.

Soulshine,
it’s better than sunshine,
it’s better than moonshine,
damn sure better than rain.

Well now people don’t mind,
we all feel this way sometimes,
you’ve got to let your soul shine,
shine ‘til the break of day.

I think I’m a sucker for “_____ is the new _____” statements. Sixty is the new fifty. Orange is the new black.

From this morning, perusing my iPhone music, waiting for my flight to take off, I ran across an album by Ben Lee entitled, Awake is the New Sleep.

Hmmm. When I think sleep, I think rest, rejuvenation, essential physical need, a natural response to fatigue.

Now transfer those qualities on to awake. Nice, right.

Feeling rested by being awake to the world. Feeling rejuvenated in awareness. Feeling invigorated by learning, making connections, creating new associations. The gist is leaning in, not out.

I think of awareness and awakeness as a key part of our job descriptions of being human. There are the things we do. And, it is important to do those well. That’s most likely what most of us spend most of our time on.

Then there’s the awake part. Oh ya, paying attention to surprise. Being capable of not freaking out in uncertainty. Daring to let go of the habitual numbing that many of us have.

The particular song from the album is called, We Are All In This Together. I got it a few years ago from a friend and colleague, Marty Kurtz, when co-hosting an event for forward thinking financial planners. The song is worth a listen too.