Month: September 2012

What is home?

This has been an important inquiry in my life, and at many levels. The home of my childhood in Edmonton, Alberta. The home of early married and parenting life in Orem, Utah. The home of a regular summer family vacation cabin in Fairmont, British Columbia.

Home continues to evolve for me. I currently call Lindon, Utah home. It is where my kids are. It is where I take care of my dog. It is where I grow tomatoes. It is where I walk and jog near horse fields. I also call Seattle, Washington home. It is where my wife lives often. Where her children, my friends live. It too is a place where we grow things (lettuce much better than tomatoes) and walk dogs.

I am learning to welcome the home that is beyond geography. The easy home of being in company with friends. The easy home of accepting a man’s offer of sharing his potato chips as we sat a lunch bar today. The home that comes with saying yes, and welcoming the person in front of me as friend. Accepting invitations, sometimes just because they are offered. Offering some of my own because it’s a bloodline to creating community and kind association.

This current round of reflection about home is inspired by my recent stay in Edmonton, Alberta, the city in which I was born nearly 50 years ago. My wife Teresa and I visited this week. We stayed with my parents. We visited my Grandparents in Sherwood Park, my other Grandfather at a nearby assisted care center. Teresa and I wanted to be deliberate about celebrating our recent marriage union with this group of Edmonton aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, nieces, nephews, parents, grandparents. These are people that I grew up with. People that supported me both in times of need and joy. Sometimes with my awareness. Sometimes without it. They are people with whom I’ve had 25 years of picnics, birthday parties, Christmas celebrations, Thanksgiving ping pong tournaments, tree planting projects, re-shingling roofs, and other work projects. We’ve cheered each other on in sports, dance. In life. Edmonton. Home.

This was the first time for me to be in Edmonton when my parents were not living in the house in which I grew up. That home in Ottewell, of 47 years for my Mom, is no longer where they live. They moved to a condo further in the south and west of Edmonton. I wondered what it would feel like this time. How it might feel different. Would it feel like a loss? It felt like home. Beautiful. Cared for. A place to sleep. To eat good food. To watch a CFL football game. To interact. To be together. To listen to one another. To laugh. To glisten with tears.

It is easy to say that home is when you are with people you love and that love you. I relate to this. And though my earlier conceptions of this would have been more oriented to immediate family, I have come to welcome this spirit with old friends, new friends, and people that I meet. On a more general level, I’m learning that “people find what they look for.” When I look for kindness, I find it. It doesn’t remove sadness, for example. But it highlights kindness. When I look for home, when I hold the energy of invitation to be home, when I welcome it with others, I find it.

These are musings. Important as a general category to me. And for others that share the interest of what home is to them. Indeed. What follows are a few of the specific images and appreciations I carry from this trip to Edmonton (my last was 16 months ago) and that inspired these reflections from my tender, yet curious heart.

-Being picked up by my parents at the Edmonton International Airport at 12:05 am. The kindness of receiving. Then joyfully visiting later into the early morning.
-Being welcomed into “make yourself at home.” The way it has always been for me. No need to ask special permissions. Good to be involved in cleaning up the dishes together, that welcomes an easy pace of sharing together.
-Visiting my Grandpa, Ken Ross, now 82, my father’s stepfather. It’s been three or four years since seeing him in person. He’s older, yup. A bit slower, and assisted by using a walker. And has a delightful sense of humor and teasing. I’ve always known him this way. He brought humor always.
-Checking in with my Grandparents, Fern and Billie Gould, now 91 and 95 respectively. Living in their home that we’ve always referenced as “The Ponderosa.” Grandpa too has a walker that he references playfully as his “horse.” He grabs the “horns” (yes, it is a mixed metaphor) and slowly, yet with awareness moves himself about the house. Grandma cares for him with love, durability, thoughtfulness. Grandma remains an avid sports enthusiast. Ask her about the Oilers, the Eskimos, the Ryder Cup and she has keen insights — she’s always had the ability to coach.
-Celebrating our marriage by having my parents invite all of the family that grows from the Gould side, Cindy & Wilf from the Ross side, and my Auntie Donna for cake, fruit, wine, cheese. Teresa and I showed several slides from our ceremony. I felt a bit choked up as I offered a few word that night, recognizing that though it has been 26 years since I lived in Edmonton, this group of people have never left my heart.
-Dinner with my sister, Wendy and her family. Peter. my brother inlaw. My 19 year old nephew Michael and 14 year old niece Erika. Schnitzels, a Vidlak specialty. The aliveness of Michael and Erika as they navigate and explore university life, volleyball tournaments and more. (It’s worth noting as an aside that at this point of our stay, this home, I’m missing my kids, wishing they could see this side of family also. A very loving. Very touching. Very close-knitted family.)
-There were more family gatherings. Each that I wanted to do. Golfing with my Grandma Gould. She hits the ball 125 yards every time. She drained two putts of 30 and 15 feet. Watching my Mom curl. Taking Friday night pizza to my grandparents and watching some of the Eskimos football game. A brother / sister walk with Wendy. Horse-races with a group of ten of us (Grandma had the most winners).
-There was meeting with the family that is colleagues. Inviting coffee with Beth Sanders, Marg Sanders, Hugh Sanders, Lona Leiren. Meeting in downtown Edmonton, sitting outside Credo’s while the bustle of farmers market swirled around us. They were freshly returned from a Circle Practicum with PeerSpirit. Sharing stories with them, creating and welcoming a time to loop our lives together — that was a highlight of my day. That’s home too!
-There was visiting my Dad and Grandmother’s grave site. Quiet reflection. Appreciation. The invitation of connecting in spirit. Home.
-There were my reflections leaving. The touching familiarity of what I saw from the plane, wheat fields squared away in the Alberta prairies landscape. The way that I wanted to just breath in that emotion, the overall image as a symbol of what I have called home for so long, and was now felts so gratefully filled with. As the flight progressed over the Rockies, my excitement of evergreens, mountains, and lakes that I saw arriving into Seattle. My anticipation of seeing Teresa, Patrick and Kate.

Home. Home. Home. Home.

I feel the tugs in my heart that take me back to Edmonton and all of those lovely people. The part of me that appreciates being filled and loved in that focused way. It is real. It is beautiful.

I also feel the deep pull that takes me forward. The home of my children. The home that is the life of Teresa and I. The home that is uncharted waters. The home that is partnership of the unknowns of life. The home of the fire that burns beside me now as I write this from our Seattle kitchen. The home of a cozy robe that I wear now, happy with the way it feels on my skin and helps me feel my place in Seattle, even when it is a short two day stopover.

I relate to people who reference a broader global home. These are the kinds of friends I make and people that I work with all of the time (prior to Edmonton, Teresa and I had worked with BALLE, a network of people oriented that way).

Maybe home is defined by familiarity.

If so, it is my experience that I have learned particularly in the last 10 years, that familiarity expands when I welcome it. When I live with a spirit of appreciation and gratitude, home expands.

Whatever that is, and however it evolves, I feel very well fed by the people that I originally began the journey with, and by the geography of Edmonton that marked a starting point. The kind of feeding that leaves me with a whisper on my lips of appreciation — wow.

Last week Teresa Posakony, Lina Cramer, Kevin Johnson and I worked Christine Ageton, Alissa Barron and others from the BALLE Network (Business Alliance for Local Living Economies). BALLE is an inspiring and rapidly growing network that represents a strong commitment to restoring community through local businesses. They’ve recently launched their new website with particular branding around connecting leaders, spreading solutions, and sharing helpful resources in the localist movement.

One of the things I love about BALLE is that they are offering solutions and critical connections in a rather complex environment. There is a kind of hunger, heartfulness, and simplicity that I appreciate and saw in the people I met. Their actions are anchored in the simple, an invitation for each person to do what they are doing and a bit more. Yet, their vision is appropriately massive: “Within a generation, we envision a global system of human-scale, interconnected local economies that function in harmony with local ecosystems to meet the basic needs of all people, support just and democratic societies, and foster joyful community life.”

It was an inspiring couple of days spent together in the beauty of Chicago’s Berger Park, on the shore of Lake Michigan. Using the Art of Hosting pattern for learning, we gave attention to several key questions like those named here:

What are we each going to have to lose or release so that the next phase of local can be born?

How do we feed our cities sustainably?

How do we heal the effects of conflict and difference to create healthy, authentic dialogue that reaches across difference?

How do we get local business at the center of the conversation to solve our toughest problems?

What is community resilience?

How does gift culture come to life as we build local living economies?

A few other bits of harvest are here:
–Photos of People
–Photos of Flipcharts
–Blog post from Teresa Posakony on the Andersonville Chamber of Commerce story

Last week, I worked again with Franciscan Sisters. Myself and Teresa Posakony are working with a planning committee of 16 to prepare for, design, and facilitate the 2013 General Assembly for their order, the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration.

The theme of this upcoming assembly is Risk Boldly the Future. Yes, it is inspiring. The theme, and them. A group of women, vowed sisters and affiliates that are asking key questions of themselves, one another, and their broad community. Questions that touch the core of who they are. Questions that challenge and invite exploration of what community really means. Questions that welcome the edge of dreams and possibilities that they want to imagine together unique to this time.

A few of those questions are going out to their regions and clusters well in advance of the assembly. So as to juice up the energy for them now, and so as to encourage a thoughtfulness of continuous learning and engagement with one another.

1. How will Sisters and Affiliates work together to carry out Franciscan mission, given declining numbers of vowed members and increased need for care among them and in their communities?
2. As we witness positions and tensions between local community and institutional church, how are we called to stand?
3. From our essence, how do we live boldly with the challenges we face and dreams we hold?

What I appreciate in these is that they are all questions that invite getting to the essence of who they are. Getting to the authenticity that is not only their individual voices, but that is at the center of them as a group. Just that, I find, is a beautiful expression of boldness, and oh so needed in many communities.

Teresa and I recommended some additional attention this time to the process methodology of circle. These are women that are not unfamiliar to varied forms of convening in circle. The tradition we have been sharing comes from our teachers, Christina Baldwin and Ann Linnea of PeerSpirit. I offered simple metaphor to help that land and to help clarify the circle discipline of directing all (and receiving all) to/from the center. I’ve always thought of the center of a circle as a bit pot of soup. A big kettle with room for many additions. It has broth in it. The conversation and inquiry among the group as a whole is that broth. You could say the purpose is the broth. I think of the individual words, experiences, and stories that we share as spices. We each have opportunity to add spice. And some of us have opportunity to simply stir with the wooden spoon and taste how it is coming along. Like soup, there is value in our conversations slow cooking, giving chance for the individual spices to flavor and cook the full pot. To blend.

At this gathering we invited 4-5 person circles to share stories and experiences of risk. So as to become more open and clear with our own varied relationships to risk. I loved the invitation to express first, associations of what we think of with the word risk. Everything from scary, frustrated, intimidated, and yikes to an excitement, a dream, a possibility of movement. I also loved the way that through sharing our deeper stories, principles and learnings about risk became apparent. Though the stories are private, the principles are really good to share. Simple maxims, yet when noticed from the experience of circle, are as lasting and tasty. From the circle I participated in, I harvested these:

• I knew it was time to shift my life.
• Must live from your center.
• I can step into the unknown, even alone.
• It is empowering to come through the other side.
• Listen to the inner feelings; listen to friends.
• Full authenticity creates freedom.
• Step into the challenge; leaning into the fear may not make it go away, but it changes our relationship to it.
• When you say yes, life organizes around that.

These principles and learnings become super valued friends in what is our evolving relationship to fear. It is my experience that they release the default hold that risk, or fear of risk, can conjure up in us. They remind us that we already know a lot and have journeyed quite far in our lives. They inform us and help center the journey ahead. Powerful. And as several commented, in a surprisingly short time. Not just chairs in a circle with obligatory ice-breaking. But deep human connection that clears the path for the future.

One further point I appreciated with this group. Teresa recommended early that we use Mark Nepo’s book, Exquisite Risk, for inspiration. My recommendation is just to get this book. A great resource for if you are hosting work around risk and authenticity. It’s poetic. It’s thoughtful. In this case, a really good entry point to helping this group / us open into our inner resourcefulness about risk. Make some room on your shelf; it’s the kind of book you pick up and read a paragraph or a couple of pages at a time.

Some brilliant and thoughtful words here on the OST listserve from OST practitioner Lisa Heft. I love the emphasis she is offering on the OST format for holding the space for a group to do its work. I also love the distinction of what is the group’s work and what is the facilitator’s relationship to conflict and resolve. Great stuff here for any practitioner deepening his / her ability for the complex environments in which we use OST and other participative methodologies.

My observation is that many individuals – which therefore includes facilitators – are conflict-averse. We see something we name as conflict, and we either want to avoid it or solve it away. We are not very good at sitting with it; breathing through it. I am talking about those conflicts where your life is not immediately in danger but instead where voices are raised and people are angry and upset.

And for some of our cultures – what one culture sees as conflict (raising of voices, dramatic gestures, angry faces) – another culture sees as passion or simply as expression and communication. So all those cultural filters are at work (us, our groups, our personal / cultural style, our family-of-origin / relationship history – oh so many things).

So to me – as a facilitator – my job is to know:
– what is the group’s work (and what is my own internal work)
– to breathe (and to breathe as a way to hold space for others)
– to do thoughtful work (including the pre-work and analysis for / selection of best-fit dialogue process)
– and to care for self and others (in specific ways like making sure I am hydrated, rested and fed, and holding in my heart and mind that their work is their own and that I think they are amazing).

Conflict without violence is to me – passion. Someone struggling to name their own truth – which while not perhaps true for others, is true for them, at that moment.

Harrison I disagree with you – I don’t think conflict is something that can often be resolved in a single meeting. By a single intervention. Resolution is not what I seek by offering Open Space as one of the possible tools for a certain meeting. The ability to breathe through conflict – to witness rage without blows – to be able to walk away (and walk back in) – to hear another person’s story (without trying to solve or change it) – these are all the things that an Open Space (of two days, ideally) can offer. Resolution? Take any human behavior – there are so many things that inform and change and hold in place certain behaviors. The meeting is just one part of someone’s life, life history, life after the meeting, real life ‘on Monday’, social norms, support for change and so on. But what the meeting can do as the ‘massage’ so the human can witness their own inner dialogue, feel witnessed, notice and wonder, try to articulate, stumble through, step back and step back in? Amazing. 

I say two days ideally because in any process – including Open Space – on Day 1 people are often naming their grief and loss. Day 2 does not magically change that but with the overnight, with eating together, with feeling witnessed as they tell their story again and again on Day 1 – seems like enough people shift a bit on Day 2 to not lose their own story but walk forward into imagining a slightly different story, together. 

As you say, Harrison, ‘…given the time / space to do it.”

It is what happens before the meeting and afterward that also count. Which is why I think of Open Space or any other facilitated process as one in a chain of steps of change and shift as part of a greater whole.