Human to Human

The 90 second film below is a spoof on prescription medication advertisements. It has the usual stuff. Cheezy and cheeky characters. Coercive narrative (a prescription will take care of everything). Required warnings. Soft music. The film brilliant in part because behind the humor are things that ring true. truths. One of those is that “we are nature.” And, “it’s helpful to spend time in nature.”

I use these truths often in workshop design. For example, designing time for people to take a walk. To get outside. To rest from the dialogue and planning. To pause in the strategizing. Walks can  be in the forest — it’s great to work in retreat settings. But it also could be in a neighborhood. Or even just staring into the sky for a bit. It can be a moment of reflection and meditation with attention to a natural setting.

Being in nature is an invocation to a pause. I long for the freedom that welcomes a pause like this, just because. Without justification. But just in case some verbiage is needed to make it more utilitarian, what I share with people is that nature invites a different mode for sense-making.

It was the poet David Whyte that once said a concept that has stuck with me. “Sometimes, the truth depends on a walk round the lake.”

Enjoy this spoof. For the fun of it. And for the challenge to welcome pause.

Here’s an oversimplified story, but it is still worth saying because it is pattern.

In my teens and twenties it seemed to me that being a man had a lot to do with being tough. Stoic. Competitive. Never letting my guard down. Outsmarting others. Never showing weakness.

In my thirties and forties it seemed to me there was more to being a man than that. There were cracks in those images. And it was just getting tiring to hold living up to those images. Silly even. It was time to learn with other men in stories, and even rituals. I started participating in a men’s retreat and varied men’s groups. Dialogue groups. Drumming circles.

In my fifties, I continue to learn about opening myself. As man, yes. As human, yes.

I’d like to think I’m reasonably evolved about these things. If I give myself permission to say it, I am quite evolved with these. Not done evolving. But have done some pretty good letting go, working with boundaries, exploring the roots of experience and feeling. And I’m through a cycle now, watching some of this earlier phase play out in my sons and other younger men, which is rather retroactively informative!

My friend Kinde Nebeker just posted a piece, “The Man of Awakened Heart.” I quite like here list of traits, which I’ve copied below. Her full post is worth a read. (Kinde is also someone that I’m starting to work with. Later in October we are offering a leadership session on “The Inner and The Outer of Evolutionary Leadership.”)

• He is able to express a full range of emotion — love, anger, compassion, fear are all alive in him. He does not squash any emotion; though he is also able to express his emotions appropriately.
•  He gives full-bodied hugs that are filled with presence and caring. He is able to hug both women and other men in this way.
•  He has the capacity to listen deeply with his full attention.
• He has gone beyond the need to live up to some ideal of manly identity. Who he actually IS as a man is enough.
• He has clear boundaries, but no armor. His boundaries are fluid, not rigid.
• He has the capacity to go into the frightening territory of his own shadow and his own vulnerability. He can stand in that vulnerability, in the place of not knowing, without trying to cover his butt.
• He has come to know and honor his own feminine energy. It is alive in him and he has a conscious relationship with that energy.
• He can take action, letting his heart give him guidance.
•  He smiles a lot because his heart has been broken repeatedly and he has let it break — standing the pain, and eventually letting his heart open wider. In doing so, that heart of his becomes the strongest muscle he has. He has the capacity to deeply love many people.

It may be an oversimplified story, but it’s worth leaning in to, no. If I go big with it, it’s worth leaning in to because it helps make conscious the choice of who men are and invites growth. Or, stay simple, it helps create awareness in the life of a dad and a son figuring out the day to day.

A friend sent this video to me on the weekend. It is six minutes on why new math matters.

I admit, there are times when I have wondered (translation, doubted) the value of new math being taught to my elementary school-aged student. I’m a rather involved parent. I like to do homework with him. I like to know what he is learning, even if he is getting it all correct.

This video is about more than math. It is about developing the ability to think conceptually. Creatively. And that applies to working with groups, yes. And, the narrative is a good challenge to the primary story of math education — efficacy and speed. Oops, there is it is again, a cultural story that is about a lot more than math.

There have been moments when I, relying on my “old school” math, wonder what my 10 year-old is thinking and why it is taking him so long. Dr. Raj Shah of the Math Plus Academy offers a good description of what I sometimes describe as the need to slow down (so that you can speed up, or, er…, not).

Conceptual and critical thinking isn’t about moving through things as quickly as possible. It’s good to have that ability, when needed. But critical thinking is called for in more and more of the complex environments we find ourselves in. The ability to see alternative conceptual frameworks — oh yea, that’s good.

I love it that this video works with a simple equation, 45 x 24, to show some of this.

 

Last night I was so happy to join colleague Jen Smith to host an evening conversation featuring Bob Stilger. Bob and I go back some 15 years now to a decade of work through The Berkana Institute. He is someone I trust. For his skills. For his kindness. For his ability to think and act. Bob is the kind of person you want on your team.

Last night’s conversation, for 15 of us, was about resilience amidst disaster. Our design was simple. First, meet each other to say hello through a check-in circle. Actually a big check in circle yet contained to 45 minutes (What is your name? Where are you from? Why are you here? All of this followed by a second round, When have you experienced the rug being pulled out from under you? What are you grateful for in that?) Second, listen to some story from Bob and his 3o or so years of work in Japan. Listen to Jen who was able to go with Bob to Japan on a learning journey in 2014. In the last four years, Bob’s work has been about creating futures even in turmoil. Third, turn to each other for engagement, What does this has to do with you? Fourth, witness ahas — Is there an aha that you take with you from tonight?

One of Bob’s stories was about molasses and waku waku. Molasses is the word Bob used to describe how most Japanese people showed up for a leadership meeting in 2011. You see, it was after the triple disaster of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. People couldn’t look forward. There was grief. There was loss. There was complete unknown. It was heavy. Thick.

Waku waku is the Japanese word that Bob used to describe what happened to people in that meeting. When they were invited — and let’s face it, held with kindness — to engage together about what it all meant, they found a resilience inside that was excited and exciting. Waku waku was waving of hands energy. It was aha. It was discovery. It was relief. It was the synergy that people found in turning to one another, even amidst massive heaviness.

That transition from molasses to waku waku stuck with me (odd pun not intended). It’s not a “and they all lived happily ever after” story. It is a good, human to human, “as long as we are together” story. Disaster is important. Clearly. But I’ve heard Bob and Jen speak it many times, the impressive story is about what people have inside of them. Bob nailed it with a quote from one of his participants back in 2011. It was offered with a bit of shyness from the participant — could it be said out loud? “These disasters have released us from a future that we did not want.”

The human spirit does amaze, doesn’t it.

Waku waku.