Human to Human is a daily blog. It’s journalling and learning in public, Monday through Thursday, in which I post current learnings (taking sporadic weeks off to write longer pieces or to rest). Posts are 300-500 words, often with photos, intended to be read in five minutes and inspire reflection, individually and communally, on varied aspects of participative leadership practices, insights, and human to human depth.

Daisy Proliferation

I was going to say, “daisy explosion,” but in a moment of gut check on default language use, opted for “proliferation.” Less aggressive. After all, it’s the beauty of it that moves me to share. Where I live, this is the time of year when daisies like this come out by the hundreds. And though I generally try to keep the tall grasses out of the daisies, there is a wildness that I like in the way that they reflect evening sun.

Easy questions in my mind and heart. I remain a person that pivots easily to a form of self and group reflection. What is proliferating in you? What do you wish proliferating in you? What is one beauty you are noticing? Where do you wish to welcome wildness? It’s never a test. It’s an invitation to listen to self and with others in informal circled format.

The second part of the pivot is always very simple and follows with another harvesting kind of question — And how might that (those responses) inspire what we are up to together? That’s for when I work with teams. Or when I want to weave our reflection together.

I suppose the proliferation I most seek is a wholeness of being human. In myself. In groups. In family. In community. It’s invitation. It’s slowing down. It’s noticing the daisies. It’s practicing wonder together. And a few simple, yet significant language adjustments that welcome gut check presence together.

Here’s to the daisies and the learning they evoke. The ordinary that welcomes a dance with the extraordinary.

Three Questions To Cohere Transitions

It was a couple of weeks ago that Quanita Roberson and I were coming up with a simple process for our Fire & Water small groups to harvest a bit of learning and a bit of clarity. One of the small groups sat at this fire pit, knee to knee.

We were aware that some groups were very tight, traveling well together in their learning and support of each other. We were aware that some groups continued to struggle to find groove.

The point of the small group process was deliberateness of noticing. It was not to resolve old problems. It was not to dissect all of the details, which so often promises fruitfulness, yet so often lands in more quagmire.

The point of the small group practice was to cohere energy, momentarily, to the reality of transitions. The point was to bring focus and energy to learning, which is of course what most of us are trying to do well, whether from the traveling well together or from the struggle together (or from the struggle within).

We asked these three questions to be held in circle, passing a piece to steady the listening and the sharing into the center.

  1. What is one thing that you celebrate from your experience in this small group?
  2. What is one learning you wish to carry with you from your experience in this small group?
  3. Are their agreements you need to clarify in relation to this transition?

As is so often true, these questions were meant to evoke both data (story, insight) and energetic coherence (vibration).

The first question is deliberate to bring energy of celebration and appreciation. And here’s the catch, to bring celebration and appreciation even when all is not easy — this is one of the disciplines that we encourage in Fire & Water.

The second question is deliberate to bring energy to learning. All of life can be learning — this is one of the key orientations that my grandmothers encouraged me to adopt. Being deliberate to see life as learning helps stabilize some other very human experiences (stuck complaining, or stuck lamenting). And because both this question and the first are personalized (“one thing you celebrate…one thing you wish to carry with you…”) there are no wrong answers. These questions help to create witness among the group and witness for the person sharing response.

The third question is deliberate to bring energy of clarity. For some, the agreement is to continue meeting. I’m glad that their connection continues to add life and vitality. For some the agreement is to stop. I’m glad for this too. It’s OK to call an end to a specific form, particularly when a transition is marked with the first two questions. For some the agreement is new form. I’m glad for evolution that is centered in learning and in celebration, that welcomes mystery, yet also trusts intuition for endings.

So, I celebrate these groups in these questions. I carry with me the learning that simple form can create energy to honor and cohere transitions. I carry with me the learning that clarity of endings, or transitions, can be such a gift. It’s basic stuff. Yet it is often basic stuff lost in misdirected purpose or neglected focus.

Here’s to the skill and simplicity to honor these many transitions that are part of human living. And a bow to these beautiful Fire & Water people for engaging in these ways that cohere.

Through Me — Nicole Frederickson

Photo by Libby Smith

I love all of this post by Nicole Frederickson.

It’s Nicole capping a 100-day challenge of writing. As a writer, it excites me when anyone commits to such a journey. I know some of the transition that occurs — from writing words to being written.

It’s Nicole’s sharing what changed her inner and outer. These always neighbor each other, inviting passage to more connection and awareness.

It’s the sweet pairing that Nicole and Saoirse Charis Graves created — Saoirse adding haiku each day. This for the 100th day.

Living as beloved,
Living each new day freely,
Embodying love.

It’s the Derek Walcott poem, Love After Love, that Nicole included, that ends, “Sit. Feast on your life.” What beautiful encouragement.

It’s the photos taken by Libby Smith, who has such a keen eye for beauty and for wonder.

It’s knowing that these three people came to find each other through Fire & Water, the Leadership & Rite of Passage Journey that Quanita Roberson and I created and host. Quite beautiful anytime that people can meet at such heart-opened places.

It’s Nicole harvesting and linking titles to each of her posts. Even the titles by themselves are an encouraging and intriguing read.

And it’s these beautiful closing words from Nicole’s post.

“I’ve learnt plenty along the way, about myself as a writer, how I clearly am deeply connected to the sky, how I can relinquish and surrender the thoughts and cares of who’s reading, finding deep purpose in my own journeying… trusting whoever shows up are the right people. 

I smile as I see how the journey continues to bring me closer and closer to finding my voice. As I continue to learn to “say what’s mine to say … not what I think another needs to hear.”

Here’s to the groove created, when any of us commit to a practice of noticing, that begins with what is right in front of us. And from that noticing, beginning to welcome the evolution of ourselves that grows from many moments of right now. And from that evolution, creating further meaningful union with others and with Life itself.

A heartfelt bow. Through me.

I Want to See You Dance — Gina Puorro

Gina Puorro is one of the blogs that shows up in my inbox from time to time. There’s a rawness in her words that I appreciate. There’s a realness that I feel moved by. It’s not rawness and realness to entertain. No, I receive it as rawness and realness to awaken from so much contemporary noise. It’s rawness and realness to bring depth to human living.

In a recent post Gina Puorro fleshes out four paragraphs from these four sentences.

I want to see you dance.
I want to hear you sing.
I want to witness your grief.
I want to feel your love.

Here’s the example with, “I want to see you dance.”

I want to see you dance. Not the choreographed, lead and follow, booty shaking, I-know-this-is-what-you-like dance. Give me the the animal of your body, unhinged and clawing and flailing to the heartbeat of the earth until you summon the gods themselves to pour libations at your feet. The ecstatic unraveling that dismembers your shame, that wrings sweat and tears and regret from your skin and leaves you on your knees before the altar of your own body in exalted devotion.

I am one that reads such words as invitation. Invitation to feel. Invitation to notice. Invitation to walk with.

And because I’m also a facilitator, I have the kind of brain and heart that translates concept to a form for group connection and learning. I imagine questions like, Where do you see dancing like this needed among us? Where do you wish such dance like this for your self? What is the kind of seeing that we are to each other? What might become possible?

So, a bow of gratitude. For those with the courage and clarity to live realness / rawness, and to invite it into dancing together.