Category: General Learning

Dana and I harvested our front porch tomatoes last week. Each is a bit bigger than golf-ball sized. And, as you can see, pretty ripe. Yummy for dinner last night. The pace of both growing and picking tomatoes is slow. Which I like. It reminds me of the many ways that my psyche values slowness these days. Not rushed. Not over-producing. Not frantic in performance. Not hijacked by the minutia.

I’m a 62 year-old human. I feel like I’m discovering what that means (without great attachment to the detail of the number). When I’m nuancing out loud with others nuancing their ages and presence in the world, I often say a couple of cheeky things. “Being in my sixties isn’t being in my forties. Nor is it my twenties. Nor is it my eighties.” I suppose that sometimes the honing in starts with differentiation, even the cheeky kind.

For those of you reading and following and jumping in for a while, you know that a couple of themes have grabbed me. Wander. Becoming. Belonging. Themes, yes. They are also practices. They are goals. They are surrenders. They are alignments. Even attunements. They touch the heart of things for me.

You know how when we have interest in something that not only do you look for it, but, well, it seems to start looking for you? I feel like Wander is doing this with me. Teaching me. Taking me for walks. Challenging me. Opening the beers on the back deck.

And then there are friends who start looking for us. They become part of the team seeking out the themes. This is happening a lot too. I love the insights.

My friend Bill did this recently. Bill is thoughtful. A counselor and therapist by profession. Kind and patient by personality. Knows a bunch. Bill sent me this article by Jeff Karp recently after Bill and I talked about Wander School. When You Stop Doing, Life Speaks.

Lots to love. Lots to pick and enjoy.

• “doing nothing quiets the noise, creating the stillness needed to hear your own inner wisdom”
• “your natural intelligence isn’t created; it’s remembered when you silence the mind’s anxious chatter”
• “transformation comes from subtraction, not addition; let go of performance to reveal your true essence”
• “stillness reveals you are not separate from life, but are a part of nature remembering itself”
• “stillness is a source, not a void”
• “natural intelligence is fluid; you don’t create it — you tune into it; it allows what you already know to come forth”
• “in a hyper-productive world, doing nothing can feel unnatural — even wrong…; when we pause and let go of constant doing, life begins to move through us, not from us”

And, and, and.

I’m drawn to such notions. Life flowing through us. I find it requires some undoing — I’ll likely always have some layer of anxious doer in me. I find it requires some fierceness in me — a kind fierceness that celebrates first, life flowing.

Hmmm. The tomatoes were the goal. Yes. If we didn’t get any, I’d feel disappointed. But, perhaps grown tomatoes aren’t the only goal. Perhaps equally important is the generic participation in life moving and growing.

I’m learning to center myself in such things. Not 40. Not 20. Not 80. Just here. Now. Turning in the stories. Inviting others to turn in to their stories. Participating in life moving.

I have programs that do this. It’s my B & B Series. Rather simple. And I’m finding are part of good and lasting practice.

Welcome if you decide to stop by for a tomato!

It’s growing.

I love offering these gatherings.

And participating.

And journeying together with good, good folk. Together we are connecting the inner and the outer.

And I love the difference it makes.

Jump in here.

All of my life I’ve been learning about learning communities.

Sometimes articulated. Sometimes noticed and felt. Sometimes journaled. Sometimes experimented with.

In the 1990s, it was grad school. There were 20 or so in the Masters Program I attended. Organizational Behavior (we graduated in 1993 as MOBs). I learned how to go with others rather than alone.

The 1990s were also about Communities of Practice. That’s when I worked with Berkana. That was some of the work of Etienne Wenger. Berkana had this phrase that I often find myself repeating today about learning places — “what happens at Berkana doesn’t happen at Berkana.” It was a reference to the way we learned well beyond the event. To the ways we were forever changed.

In the 2000s, it was The Art of Hosting. I was invited by my friend Toke to learn and participate in the pattern. I was supported by my friend Meg to discover. In that general time, I came to practice and offer so many Circles, World Cafes, Open Space Formats. I saw so many people open to something deeper, something more lasting. That’s when I met Chris, Caitlin, who would come to reshape the way I learned about learning communities. And so many others that found new purpose.

In the 2010s, I was honing all of that work. And experimenting. That’s when I found Soultime, a group of men getting to the deeper work. I started hosting events like The Art of Humans Being. I started living outside of the lanes, yet connected to the same road system.

And in these 2020s, I’m honing further. I listen to my belly. I get excited about the deep inner work that I get to do with others and that I get to do with myself. I get to further follow aspects of activation and animation. That’s now my Wander School and Becoming & Belonging Sessions.

Once you tasted it, you never forget it. That learning. That syncing. That has been true for me.

All of my life I’ve been learning about learning communities. And (thx Robert Frost), that has made all the difference.

We claim themes and patterns. And also, they claim us. Right?

Wander is one of those for me (thx for the pre-loved shirt Roq). I claim Wander — the beauty, the pace, the wonder. I claim a certain amount of mystery in life. An amount of unseen. An amount of unseeable.

And wander claims me. We’ve become good neighbors. It invites me to live with, walk with, explore with, cry with, play with, sing with. It invites me to life.

I’ve been in a serious wander the last five days. With men. In the back and high country near Salmon, Idaho. Thx Unplugged.

And then the others that claim us. For me, Belonging. Becoming. Circle. Connection. Courage. Compassion.

And, and.

It seems to me that we are meant to be claimed. By people. By situations. By notions. It’s got everything to do with living a curious life. With being curious in our jobs, families, ass-kicking moments, delight-drenching moments.

I explore all of these things — with great folk that show up — in my Becoming & Belonging Series.

Come claim. Come be claimed. As inspired.