Human to Human

James Crews is one of the poets that shows up weekly ish in my inbox. He has a form that I appreciate. Easy to take in. Easy to be inspired by. I like it when people write of simple things and then connect that to the not-so-simple of the human condition, interior and exterior, personal and universal.

James wrote Twilight Glory below. Recently. And, then moved by it, it stayed in my inbox for a while. Like I put it on the corner of my desk to be able to reach it easily. Which I’ve done several times.

Details for me…

“…toward the nearest inch of life…” — yup. For me, the cat. The tomatoes growing. The roses growing on the counter. The coffee to start the day.

“…emergency lurking around each new corner…” — yup, again. It’s quite exposing to acknowledge how often in this complex and many-layered subconscious that I create urgency. What is the comfort in that? That’s one of my recent inquiries with myself.

And, and.

Enjoy his poem(s).

Twilight Glory
James Crews

When wonder feels impossible,
I know I’m meant to turn toward
the nearest inch of life—the small
body of a rabbit, for instance,
resting in the grass at twilight,
ears perked for the quick footfall
of any danger. How often have I lived
like that, emergency lurking around
each new corner, fear stalking me
even on an evening walk in summer?
Tonight, I stop in the middle
of the road when I notice the waning
light pouring through the delicate
red skin of the rabbit’s ear, the way
sun illuminates a piece of stained-glass
from behind as well as from within.

Yesterday’s Wander School was a lot of yes.

There was insight. There was intimacy. There was friendship and camaraderie. There was joy. There was kindness. Love. Learning. Aha. Delight.

I found myself lightly translating in my heart such a moment into often insisted terms of contemporary and commoditized life. I don’t like to lead with such language, below. But I do like to nudge a wider scope of what is often very narrow terms.

Presence is the product.
A deep dive is the deliverable.
The moment is the measurable.
The veracity is the value.

I’ve said this before, as premise for Wander School — if it has your attention, it likely has medicine for you. That’s inner connecting with outer. That’s outer integrating with inner.

And then, this goes a bit further — when we give attention to what has our attention, that’s what releases the medicine. It’s witness. It’s opportunity to share. It’s support to wonder. It’s invitation to feel. All in a pace or scale that you choose.

From yesterday, Elif writes a poem offered in check-out that touches this. And that arises from such open and full-hearted people — yesterday’s group was six of us.

We are here Now.
We don’t have to rush Anything.
Only serving Love.

I love the yes to the yes. Hereness. Not rushing. Loving. A moment of Life lifting the whole wander of us.

I created Wander School so as to be in relationship and practice with things that don’t live in linearity.

I created it for joy, for coming alive — a joy found in insight and intuition, in the company of others also discovering such things.

I created Wander School to have a simple structure of attentiveness, so as to discover more of what is inner, living in relationship with what is outer. And vice versa.

We start with a premise — if it (a circumstance inner or outer) has your attention, it likely has some medicine for you. What kind of medicine? A healing medicine. A wellness medicine. A kindness medicine. A playfulness medicine. All of this found through reflection and wonder together.

When we practice such simple attention, we tend to grow. And evolve. I experience Life moving among us. And through us that gather in such a Circle.

I created Wander School because I couldn’t not.

Would you like to experiment with myself and others in such Wander and in such coming alive?

In my call with a friend / colleague yesterday, as check-in we asked this question of each other — What is one thing you are enjoying in your life? What is one thing you are enjoying in your leadership?

First, it’s good to have friends and colleagues that will pick up such a question. This time it’s Glen, with whom I create a six month leadership cohort. Glen and I have been at some level of continuous friendship making, learning, guiding since 2009. Fun.

Second, it’s deliberate to ask the question about joy (so as to lift joy). It’s also deliberate to ask “one thing,” to create a little boundary, a container as my friend Chris likes to reference. It’s not every joyful thing. It’s not a request for a curated list of joy. Lastly, it’s also deliberate to specify “in life, in leadership.” Permission to be a bit more open.

It’s rich to meet each other with invitation. It’s rich to meet each other with commitment to some expression of whole life.

Enjoying in life — I shared these tomatoes. They are a patch near our back alley. Dreamed and realized this year. Dana and I have picked and tasted a few yellow pear tomatoes. Here’s to a couple of months more of that in our climate.

And then, slightly dorky, I shared with Glen a wee story of how these tomatoes grow better when their roots are given room to spread. Each of the last two years, our tomatoes have been in pots. They did OK. Nothing great. This year, in the ground they are doing great(er). They needed room to grow their roots.

You guessed it. Yes, people too. We need our roots. We need room to grow. And, well, like this wee patch, we benefit from a good spot in the sun, some water, some reliable shade, some fertilizer, and some tilled soil.

Roots, yes.
Roots that emphasize joy, yes.
Stories and learning with friends, yes.