Human to Human

Recently I spent a day with a very good friend. Four years ago we were colleagues. The last 18 months have been more defined by friendship. We ask each other questions. We laugh and cry at the answers that we share with each other. We tell each other stories. We count on each other to reflect back the stories that we can’t fully see. We walk. We wander, figuratively and literally. We companion each other in a way that makes a day like we recently shared seem more like a satisfyingly full week. When we hugged it out to say goodbye, we thanked each other for this companioning.

Also recently, I met with a group of friends for a board meeting of a non-profit that we are all serving on together. Colleagues again, who are or are becoming friends. Our meeting tone was set quite deliberately in the beginning — that though we have work to do and a few decisions to make, at least half of what we were doing together was building an energy. Re-touching the spirit and potential of our work together. By the end of that call, it was clear to me that we were companioning each other.

Companions are essential, aren’t they. Or, just lovely. There are some people that we just need, even if only for a season or two. One layer of our companioning is to get stuff done. Cleaning the house. Taking out the trash. Chopping the wood. Carrying the water. And then there is the layer of companioning that is being with each other to journey into and sometimes through unknowns. The future of the organization. The state of the world. The loss of a loved one. What it means to be working together. What it means to be human.

I know that there are many alternative phrases and efforts that could be spoken here. Team-building comes to mind. And that is good. It just feels a bit more utilitarian than companioning. It’s the difference that one of my grad school professors used to state in being a tourist rather than a traveller. Tourists sample the buffet of experiences for ten days. Travelers learn where to get the food and then they do the cooking themselves.

Another good friend has often declared that “friendship is my business model.” I would say companioning too. It makes for rather satisfying days, doesn’t it.

 

 

The question asked was, “how to start a community of practice beginning with the invitation.” It was asked by a newcomer to the Art of Hosting list serve.

A response was posted by Chris Corrigan, some “pithy” principles. Sometimes the pithy are really the best, aren’t they.

• Don’t get so far ahead of everyone that no one is beside you.
• Use language that people can understand.
• Take time to continue learning how things work, and experiment and play.
• Some things will work.  Don’t get addicted to repeating them.  Some things will not work.  Don’t let them stop you.
• If you learn something, share it.

Good as gold.

I consider Bill Muhr a good friend / colleague. Since meeting 18 months ago at a leadership retreat I was involved in hosting, we have stayed in touch with helpful, playful, soulful Skype calls every 4-6 weeks. One part of his work is counseling and therapy. Another part is coaching and participative design. He’s very skilled at both. He’s doing a lot of work with faith communities, which is one of the things we share. I love Bill’s ability to see a big picture and connect multiple layers together.

Bill recently shared a list that he created with the above title. I find the list rich and thoughtful. Particularly for any of us that are trying to simplify the profound narrative shift of how we do things together. You need simple distinctions like this, I find, to help people struggling for even the beginning of conceptual understanding. Of course it’s not either / or. But starting with some “it’s not / it’s about” distinctions can really open the doors to that profound narrative.

• It’s not about critical mass; it’s about critical connections.
• It’s not about events; it’s about movement.
• It’s not about small groups; it’s about ecosystems.
• It’s not about discovering the next viral trend; it’s about discovering our unique story — a map and a trajectory for the future.

His full list is worth exploring in detail. Contact him. These are a few that get me started in helpful, playful, soulful ways.

One of my roles in this life is as a Dad. I like it. A lot.

One of my kids that I get to be Dad with is turning eleven in a couple of weeks. He’s a sweet boy. He’s large in stature. He’s tender in heart. I think of him as a “gentle giant.” He loves to laugh, dance, sing. He hates to make his bed.

My eleven year-old is black. He is African American. His Mom and I were able to adopt him at birth through an agency. His Birth Mom and Birth Grandma encouraged his placing.

My son has not experienced a physically dangerous kind of profiling. I’m grateful for that. This is not true, sadly, for many blacks in many parts of the United States.

It is rather disturbing and absurd that a video such as the one below must be made for a category of people to survive when encountering police and authority. Thank you Christina Baldwin for sharing this.

As a Dad to a gentle giant who loves to sing and hates to make his bed, this brings out fierce protection in me. And a few tears.

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