Human to Human

I’m oriented to learning. In my core. I have been since the early days. My Grandmothers kind of baked it into me. And a few other important guides I’ve loved and that have loved me.

Whether it is learning about potted herbs, tomatoes, and peppers — like these above that Dana and I planted on the weekend — or about big stories with big sweeping purposes.

So often the purpose for me, the simple purpose, is to learn. It’s what we do. It’s what we are. Learn of self. Learn of others. Learn of going well together. Learn of surrender and flow.

You know. The basics that never end. Learn to be curious. To follow joy. To celebrate. To meet self and others where they are, with invitation to learn. To face hard things. To find meaning. To invite meaning.

So, a little Tuesday mix:

• From Meg Wheatley’s newest book Restoring Sanity, “…leadership has never been more difficult…we need to restore sanity by awakening the human spirit…through generosity, creativity, and kindness”
• From the Poet Mary Oliver, “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”
• From my recent conversation with Toke, “…life is wise…what joy to be living ourselves and in company of others with such learning…”
• Back to Meg, “life always moves to higher order; it uses messes to get there…”

There is joy, much joy to me, to orient to learning. It centers me. Just like my Grandmothers. And these pots of herbs, tomatoes, and peppers planted with Dana.

Such a sweet conversation with Toke Moeller recently. Loads of learning. And remembering. And story. And laughter. And pauses. And encouragements

It’s 58 minutes. The Art and The Heart — Practicing Peace. I’ll listen several times. Perhaps you too. Share as inspired. Or just listen and dwell.

Many themes that invite practicing peace, starting with self, “one meter around us.” And, as I love with Toke, many themes that invite presence, heart, clarity, kindness, practice. Together.

As contributions of courage to ourselves and with others that we share work and community.

Yup, a sweet resource.

I’ll stay with Circle. It’s been mostly a writing week. Yummy. Focussed. But also spacious.

Circle is what I turn to in the most comprehensive stories that I know — the stories of human beings trying to be kind and aware together, trying to make a difference in varied causes in which we go well together. Circle is also what I turn to in the most immediate needs that live right in front of me and most of us — sharing dreams and difficulties, exploring conflicts and coherences. Circle is what I turn to. Circle is what turns us to each other. To practice Circle is to practice the connection of those turns at all of the layers. Connection with self. With others. Connection with circumstance. Connection with life flowing. Circle restores us to belonging. It is the most simple of containers, yet so often the most lasting of experiences.

It’s also been a week of early excitements for Breath and Belonging: A Circle Way Intensive (October 23-26, 2024 — Salt Lake City, Utah — Cohost Rangineh Azimzadeh Tehrani). The ideas in that writing are likely to find a place among us.

Interested?

Please join. Or reach out to explore.

I quite love this new configuration on my office window sill.

The stone is from a 2018 road trip to Yukon. I was meeting my buddy Roq. We hiked a bit. Told stories. Laughed. Created a bit of ceremony. From a remote hillside I brought this stone. Makes me think of mountain. And then Roq and me drove to Vancouver, BC over five days.

The person is a praying monk, also a stone. I’ve used it many times as a talking piece in Circle. It was given to me around the same time. From a colleague and fellow mischief-maker of the best kind, Kathleen Masters. Kathleen and I hosted several events over a few years, particularly to support community leaders in the United Methodist tradition.

One, I like the way these two things look on the window sill. They are grounding to me. They have a simple beauty. Beauty matters. I like to appreciate simple beauty connected to friends. I feel aliveness. Aliveness matters.

Two, stories matter. We and the things around us come from somewhere. From people. From people in stories. I good hunk of my life has been learning to reclaim and celebrate context of stories.

Three, from the angle of the photo on the left, the monk looks a bit sad. From the angle of the photo on the right, the monk is actually smiling. I like the contrast. No change in figures. Just a different angle.

We too, are all of this at once. We humans. Living sadness and sorrow. From another angle, living sweetness and smile. Discovering stories. Appreciating beauty.

Yup. Good for today. Appreciating my little Mountain Monk on the window sill.