In my yard blooms an ornamental cherry tree. It was planted by the person that lived here before me. So, more than ten years ago. I enjoy the blossoms not of my planning or doing.
This week I found myself mesmerized by buds readied to flower. I love the white and pink colors ready to burst forth. I love the bunching of buds, huddled tightly, perhaps whispering their readiness. I love the accompaniment of green leaves and contrast of rich blue sky.
This week I’m found myself also mesmerized by scale. I looked at only the tip of one branch among many, counting buds. By my best guess, there are tens of thousands of buds on this small ornamental cherry tree.
This small ornamental cherry tree grows with little grooming from me. I only occasionally trim new shoots that rise from the base of its trunk.
I suppose, in this season of spring, I am drawn to such abundance and beauty, so near and natural.
I suppose, in this living of life, I’m drawn to where such buds grow naturally. In myself. With others. With kiss of sun.
This awakening with others, this budding with others — it too, might just be a scale of simple things that mesmerize.
From a spring day and a moment of pause and wonder.
Fire & Water is a 16 month leadership journey and rite of passage. It’s about growing wisdom inner and outer. It’s about reclaiming soulfulness and awakeness in the journey. It’s about departures from norms. It’s about community in support. It’s about return with gifts meant to be expressed in these times in which we live.
I’m proud of this work, a signature program that Quanita Roberson and I have created. I’m proud of the first group that completed last November. I’m in love with the second group that has now met for first retreat. I’m excited to welcome a third group that starts this Fall.
The self you leave behind is only a skin you have outgrown. Don’t grieve for it. Look to the wet, raw, unfinished self, the one you are becoming. The world, too, sheds its skin: politicians, cataclysms, ordinary days. It’s easy to lose this tenderly unfolding moment. Look for it as if it were the first green blade after a long winter. Listen for it as if it were the first clear tone in a place where dawn is heralded by bells.
And if all that fails, wash your own dishes. Rinse them. Stand in your kitchen at your sink. Let cold water run between your fingers. Feel it.
One of the conversations that I most appreciate is about “essence.”
I’ve learned about myself that I work well when I know and feel a deeper why. Or when I claim a deeper why.
I’ve learned about groups that the deeper why is often unattended. Or obscured. Or sometimes even sabotaged.
In a delightful conversation yesterday with three German circle colleagues and friends, mostly about sharing stories, I invited their reflection on the essence of circle after their having hosted an online class.
I loved the responses shared by all of them. It was one of them, Michaela, in such thoughtful cadence, that named a version of what circle is beyond method and beyond steps of facilitation.
“Circle is a nest of energetic connection woven by the hearts of people in service to creation.”
That get’s to the heart of it for me. We don’t always language circle as such a thing. But I love it when we do, to invite people to the deeper why.
Sometimes circle is about improving meetings. That’s great. And sometimes — I would suggest always, just with different degrees — circle is about creating such rich and heartfelt nested connection.
With thanks to my German colleagues and friends for their learning offered and inspired.