Author: Tenneson Woolf

You know how you sometimes have themes that pop up in the day, week, month that are a just-right fit for the life that seems to be happening? They aren’t consciously planned. But they are consciously welcomed? Something like that. Today is one of those days for me. “Let it be unknown.” That’s the theme.

This morning my daughter called me. She’s in tears. It was a “what should I do” call. She’s been sick with bronchitis. Wearing her down. Something shifted into her sinuses. She’s at the start of a new semester in college. New classes. She is starting a new job, without really clear directions on when to start, etc. She’s concerned about disappointing others and herself. She’s frustrated to the point when it feels like everything is going wrong.

I talked with her. My tone is careful and thoughtful I’d like to think. With brief pause and inner search for what I could offer that would be helpful, I start with, “If it were me, I’d….” I want to be helpful. In compassion and kindness. Not the same as rescuing, though there is a part of me that wants to do that also. I gave her a few of those. Call your boss. Leave a message. Apologize for the awkward timing. Let them know that you are excited about the work. Speak honestly. This isn’t the first or the last time something like this will happen. She is not the only one that this happens too. It is important to myth-bust, no?

That helped.

It was the follow-up text that led to the theme. It is me searching for what is underneath for her. There are unknowns. Fear of crappy outcomes. Fear that they’ve already happened. My best guess — “Let it be unknown. It won’t always be that way. For now rest. Be gentle with yourself and others.”

I have the thought that this helped. The hope. If even only a little now, it is likely to help a lot in the future. Get comfortable with not knowing. The world you, we, live in requires this. And in fact, an unknowing landscape, distressing as it can be, is pretty good birthing ground for new awareness, shift, hell, even transformation.

Let it be unknown came up again later in the morning. Talking with my partner Teresa, we were in one of those conversations about things unseen. I read from a book I’m reading now about how the world is much bigger and weirder that we are lead to believe. Yup. My best way to get into all of that, which feels utterly important as the kind of human that I am, perhaps many are, is to let the unknown be itself for a while. Let it breath. Let it be in it’s own and natural gestation period. Rumi writes something about that that I like, about being comfortable with not knowing the answers. They come to you when it is their time.

It was Rumi that also wrote, “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.”

Let it be unknown.

Tom Brackett is one of the people I most love and respect in this world. He is a minister within the Episcopalian tradition. He is also a free spirit. His creativity makes me laugh and cracks me open, pretty much each time we are together. There are some people that at the end of the day you just give thanks for. Whether to god, the gods, the stars in the sky, the void, or just in your own heart. Tom is one of those people for me.

Below is a post from his Facebook presence, as well as a follow-up reflection. I love it all. That it comes from a a dream. That it points to vision, yearning for the vast and endless. That it creates such a profound and contemporary sense of sorrow and possibility — a 757 meant to fly, yet pulled from one end of the runway to another.

One morning, not long ago, I awoke from a vivid dream that has really stayed with me. The day before, several of us were exploring that Antoine St Exupery quote that says, “”If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.”[1]I guess it stayed with me.

In this crazy dream, a few of us were hiking out of a lush forest – so thick that we could hardly see five feet in front of our faces. A little time passed and soon we came to a broad clearing. As we stepped into it, we could hear beautiful singing and chants – the sounds of children and happy people. As we left the forest, we could also smell fresh asphalt and, just over the rise, a brand new runway stretched off into the distance, shimmering in the heat. On this end of the runway sat a shiny new Boeing 757. As I watched, happy people began climbing the jetway stairs into the open doorway. They were dressed beautifully and the conversations sounded joyful, even from that distance. We watched as the last passengers came up the trail, loaded their luggage into the cart and joined the rest of the passengers already seated. We could see them through the windows as they found their seats and one of them closed the door. We could hear them singing traveling songs, even with the doors closed. What follows astonished me!

While I watched, twelve strong men emerged from the woods with coils of thick ropes over their shoulders. They walked ceremoniously to the jet, threw their ropes over the wings and with great flourish, they began singing and chanting – heaving and swaying – living into a ritual they’d obviously perfected. Within a few moments, the beautiful new jet began to roll . . . ever so slowly. From inside the jet there arose a cheer – a joyful outcry of celebration. Even in my dream, I noticed that my mouth was hanging open – in shock! I watched as these twelve pulled this jet into a jogging roll down the runway until it stopped all the way at the other end. Then, much to my wonder, everything I had just witnessed was repeated, but in reverse. A tiny figure rolled the stairs up to the open doorway and the same beautiful people emerged – still singing – still grateful and so intentional. They walked to the back of the jet and retrieved their baggage from the cart hitched to the real wheels. They joyfully and appreciatively found their way down the path to that dayeir errands and their day’s work.

Then, as the dream’s day ended, I watched as the same 12 men returned this jet ever so slowly back to my end of the runway. It now towered over me – a beautiful and massive creation with incredible potential. The same lovely people disembarked, gathered their baggage, sweetly said their goodbyes and disappeared down the path towards their homes. In my dream, the sun set and the sky went dark. The sounds of night descended and I could see the moonlight glinting on the wings of the silent jet. In that moment, I woke up and wrote this out, as best I can remember it.

[1] Antoine de Saint-Exupery (French Pilot, Writer and Author of ‘The Little Prince’, 1900-1944)

Just finished a conversation with friends about this dream. On reflection, what stands out to me is that so many of our trained religious leaders get their version of a pilot’s license only to steer their 747 from one end of the runway to the other, year after year. They will privately confess that they dream of starting those jets and and actually soaring over Antoine St Exupery’s “vast and endless sea.” They know there are probably plenty of others back in the passenger compartment who yearn, as well. Question they ask is usually some version of “How do we renegotiate the terms of our deal? Most of my passengers climbed on to ride in safety and gratitude but only to the other end of the runway. And besides, what would we do with all that baggage dragging along behind?” Those are very personal questions and only to be asked and engaged, jet by jet! Nonetheless, so many of my colleagues are clear and courageous. They are renegotiating the terms of what it means to be a faith community that soars. They are shifting expectations, lending courage, compassionately coaching folks to fasten their seatbelts and get ready for the ride of their lives. I honor you Peggy Holman, Chris Corrigan, Caitlin M Frost, Tenneson Woolf and Teresa Posakony

A post on the Open Space List Serve from Amerie Rose. It came from a thread about optimism and progress, not wanting to return to the cave. I love her honesty here.  I relate to the value of the cave in similar ways. And need it!

I long for the good old days out in The Cave. I hark back to the time of Dreaming, and often struggle in this time of Doing. I grieve because today I am surrounded by folks who judge me when I ‘go there’ because they lost touch with their’s somewhere along this line of evolution. I battle with myself throughout the year because I STILL only get myself a ticket to there when I have lost ‘The Plot’ to the point of only being ABLE to do what needs to be done – collect wood, make food, protect the children. 

I love these words from Harrison Owen, shared recently on the Open Space list serve. It speaks to me to the inner grounding needed to offer such practices. It speaks to the story, the worldview that is already in place beneath the methodology. And it speaks to some of my own distaste for any kind of coercion in using this and other participative process.

I have never tried to “sell” Open Space. The reasons are two. First, when you describe it to anybody who hasn’t “been there” they can’t believe it, won’t believe it, and – worse – are pretty sure that anybody who does “believe it” is more than a little bit “off their rocker” (Americanism for weird, strange, marginally crazy, and such). Not a strong opening position for a “sales” pitch! Bottom line? Don’t bother. As I think I have said ad nauseam, Selling Open Space is not unlike trying to teach a pig to sing. It annoys the pig, and sounds terrible.

And there is an alternative. Just recognize (in your own mind) that these folks (whoever they are…) are already “in” Open Space. They are just doing it badly. Your “offer” is simply to help them to do what they are already doing – but now with some understanding, expertise, and style. Short take: you can help them to remember what they already know, and having remembered, to do everything much better.

Practically – I find that most people really don’t care about the “process.” As Eiwor says – they just want results. So explaining the details of the process, given the liabilities of that explanation (see above), doesn’t make a lot of sense. What you can do is make some promises that I know can be kept. Every issues of concern to anybody will be on the table. All will be discussed. Reports of those discussions will be created. Action groups will/can be formed. Guaranteed! With one major proviso. People care to do that. If nobody cares, nothing will happen. But what else is new?