Human to Human is both a daily blog and a podcast. Podcast episodes are monthly. The 2024 theme is Practicing For Peace. Listen here.

Human to Human, this blog, is journalling and learning in public, Monday through Thursday, in which I post current learnings that weave my poetry, my coaching, and my group process facilitation. Posts are 300-500 words, often with photos, intended to be read in five minutes and to inspire reflection, individually and communally, on varied aspects of participative leadership practices, insights, and human to human depth.

A Little Potpourri

The spirit of this Human to Human Blog is so often one of flow for me. I write most regularly what is in front of me, often unplanned. It all connects to a field of learning for me. Sometimes emphasized with ideas and learnings. Sometimes with questions. Sometimes with poetry. Sometimes with exercises. Sometimes with seemingly random connections.

I’ll be in family travel through the end of next week. So here’s a few things near me during the last few days.

Yes. Field of learning.

  1. It’s just fun to see the cat do what the cat does. She often owns the counter top. And on this recent morning, I happened to have Most Mornings on the counter. Read the book as inspired. Maybe see what the cat saw.
  2. In conversation in what has been monthly for near a decade, my friend Bill reminds me of the “incorporating” experience. I love exploring ideas with Bill. When he first spoke this I thought more of “integration.” But he’s inviting something different. Knowing in the body, in the corporeal form. Yup, I want to stick with that. Bill offered this line — “If wisdom is not in your body it’s just a rumor.”
  3. I quite like this Michael Meade reference — “The problem in most situations is not a lack of calling; but rather, a fear of responding to the call.” For many of us, why we create spaces of learning together is to foster courage to respond to the calls already present. Yup. Good again.
  4. In conversation with one of my faith community colleagues, Travis says, “A healthy sense of self (boundaries, clarity, longings) let’s you go deep in the relational of both knowing and being known.” Gem! For the many of us looking to foster the more profound relational through the simple of self and presence.
  5. In all of this, I’ve been stewing. And writing in my journals. Poetry and prose is one of the ways I most often find essence, the corporeal, courage, and faith.

For inspiration.

A most enduring potency I know
is being available for Now.

Right here, right now.

The Now,
this present moment, 
that fulfills and connects to all the others.

Another most enduring potency I know
is celebrating the Simple.

Right here, right simple.

The Simple, 
this vibrant invitation, 
that enlivens and delights so plainly.

Appreciations to all for continued readership, forwards, and love of potpourri.

Read These Gwendolyn Ren Words


“I want to tell you about the space between deep snow and daffodils and how I am changed. There are moments of changing we’ve tracked through seasons and snippets, change that happens in temperate weather and change that happens by wind and water but what about the change that settles, seeps, pervades.”

I find I breathe a little deeper as I read her words (recent newsletter). Check out more here. I find a deeper spot within me. More calm. Grounded. Quite kind to self.

Well, those are good things.

Enjoy the exploring.

And breath.

I So Love a Vista

Those are parts of the Wasatch Mountains. In Utah County, near where I live. I love the heavy snow contrasted with blue skies of Spring. The peaks near 12,000 feet. The valley itself is 4,500 feet. We are high desert valley.

Vista’s compel vision. It’s connected to some other deep learning that has come to me over the last few weeks. It is how the simple lives in relationship with the complex.

The simple of a vista such as this is beauty. Expansiveness. The simple offers a purpose. Or a feeling. Something that remains still while many parts move.

The complex — well, that’s real too. In the above, that’s the overflow of Utah Lake that feeds marsh. And that floods a few nearby dried farmer fields.

With the group I worked with last week, we held simple story. “We are here to connect and to learn together — to explore and contribute our gifts as a cohort of leaders for the betterment of ourselves and those who we work with.” That simplicity matters.

But so does the complex. “The differences among us. The selective attention. The variation of preference and style. The urgency we face. The fatigue we endure.”

Things go so easily wrong when the simple is missing, and, when the ability to be in the complex is missing or denied. Or when the complex obfuscates the already existing yet unnamed simple.

These are patterns. In the everyday. In so many communities of work.

Yup, learning. Nuancing. Enjoying vista. And some of the scratchy complexities that goes with it.

Start Again — A Poem of Beginnings

Start Again

I said goodbye to my parting parents.
On they went after five days reconnected.
It’s old and familiar belonging.
It’s slowed time that heals.
And then the speed of postponed things returns.
Good things, yet this transition unsteadies.

But then I start again.

That phone call was jarring.
This time my dear son in deep struggle.
It’s old and familiar pain. 
I hope it can transform some day.
This isn’t a call that vanishes quickly. 
It, and the worry in me, bakes.

But then I start again.

That other jarring text. 
Of blame and hurtful assertions. 
It’s old and familiar narrowness.
It’s words that drip with exploiting judgement.
It’s ridiculously unfair. 
Punishing in tone.

But then I start again.

Start again.
In new day,

or in new hour, refreshed.
With kindness.
With clarity.
It’s what I know.

To start again.