Author: Tenneson Woolf

This one has been sitting in my inbox for a while. It’s the 13th Century Persian, Hafiz (translated by Daniel Ladinsky). Thx to my friend Katharine for her post — I got the Hafiz poem there.

I’m drawn to the invitation inherent in this poem — to have a relationship with sorrow. Shame might be part of that relationship. But there is room for so much more. An inner and personal journey might be part of that relationship. But there is room for so much more when we recognize the universal nature of sorrow. We grow through our life’s experience. If we are lucky, with some good people to listen and reflect. If we are lucky, through a sorrow that teaches what we couldn’t otherwise know.

On sorrow…

It is not possible to complete yourself
without sorrow.

Sorrow is a vital ingredient that shapes
the heart and enriches it.

So endure sadness the best you can
when its season comes.

That rain that can fall from your eye
brings life to a field,

an on other days when you laugh,
a sun takes birth in a sky you will
someday know.

See how all the elements are inside of
you.

See how your soul is a sire of light.

I got curious on the weekend. Through one of my news feeds, I learned of author and educator Sharon McMahon, a scheduled commencement speaker at Utah Valley University. She’s a former high school history teacher. I got curious because I learned that what was to be her commencement address had been cancelled — so, that made me want to read it.

I’m not diving into the safety concerns that were cited — I respect people making choices in complex times. I do want to dive into a few of her words. Dana and I read the full speech. And felt very moved by her words about telling the truth of the times.

“Graduates, I will not insult you
by pretending you are entering an easy world.
You are not.
You are graduating into a world that can feel unbearably loud
and strangely lonely at the same time;
a world where trust is thin,
cruelty is profitable,
corruption often looks untouchable
and a thousand voices are waiting to tell you that caring is pointless and naive.

But I want you to hear me clearly:
A hard time is not the same as a hopeless time.
A broken world is not the same thing as a finished one.
And a world you cannot fix alone is not the same thing as a world that does not need you.”

McMahon contexts the American Revolution from the ground up. “It wasn’t an inevitability,” as she says. “It was cold, hungry men wrapping rags on their feet because their shoes had fallen apart. It was illness. It was death.”

She goes on to further clarify her point. “You do not need easy optimism. What you need is something better: durable hope.”

I love the courage to speak to hard things. To muster authenticity. To articulate doubt, and hope. To invite shared thinking, and shared perception.

Durable indeed. That’s a pattern I wish to support.

My friend Nadia speaks with clarity, wisdom, invitation. It’s her painting above. From her post by this title, Unlearning Busyness. It just the right (and write) wisdom, joy, encouragement, artistry. Go read the whole thing. I’m gonna highlight a few bits of text that light me up on Tuesday.

One, I love it when a friend finds their groove. Nadia might have many grooves, but I love her words stroked together. Whenever someone finds simplicity that represents a whole lot of complexity — time for a cheer!

Busyness as habit. Yup, got that in me too. It’s pretty deeply ingrained for many of us. We make busyness noble. And feel shitty, sometimes, when we aren’t busy. Not noble. Argh!

Flashback to a recent facilitation. My buddy Glen and I hosted a 3-day retreat, in-person. Before lunch on the second day we hosted a “mini digital detox” (30 minutes). With some set-up and encouragement and some rules. The encouragement was to experiment with how full emptiness can be. Full in a different way. The rules — no phones, no devices, no emails. We encouraged people watching. Whatever form of empty.

For me, I walked in a circle of our circle (inside the hotel room. Probably 40 times (a slow 30 seconds ish per lap). Back to noble busyness — several times in my slow circle, I was teased by the productivity boss within me. I should take a picture of that flipchart. I should email my friend about what we are doing. I had to resist each time.

Unlearning busyness indeed.

A few more gems from Nadia’s piece.

• “getting-things-done reflex is inherited”
• “have to perform and produce to deserve joy”
• “choosing the canvas before the list is done”

And a bunch of others.

It’s mass discipline (maybe maturity too), to unlearn the busyness. I like my forets into that unlearning. It’s not so much about ignoring the lists. It’s just a bit more about freeing myself / ourselves from the tricks and traps, releasing the grip of obligation and worth, to find something a little more kind, joyful. These too, joy and kindness, it turns out, are pretty productive.

Another thing about wonder…

I’ve been reading Sophie Howarth’s book, Everyday Wonder. Reading, yes. “Experiencing” might be a better word. “Delighting in.” “Surrendering to.”

It’s an appealing collection of essays, photos, poems, art, invitations to practice. So, yah, quite cool.

A few eye-catchers for me (heart-catchers)…

• “…resist narrowing our perceptual capacities…”
• “…beauty hidden in plain sight…”
• “…all of it is astonishing…”
• “…lightstalking…”

She brings an inviting tone. You know, wonder. Wonder for Life flowing. For Life Lifing.

A bow to this kindred spiritry.