Human to Human

Poetry moves.
And excites.
And clarifies.
And invites.
Sometimes challenges.

Poetry moves.
The heart.
The mind.
The belly.
Sometime the kneecaps.

My friend Christina, who I think of as a dearest writing teacher, taught me and others that “the first gift is that it heals us”.

Oh, yes, yes.

Poetry moves.
Integration.
Insight.
Intuition.
Sometimes investigation.

I’ve been glad to write three collections of poetry. Available on Amazon. I’ve written much more in private journals, blogs, and pocket notebooks.

Yes, yes — some healing there.
And joy.
And expression.
And invitation to nuance.
Sometimes feel.

Sometime in the late 1990s, my Grandmother, Lena, gave me 5-6 of her books. Self help. Poetry. Perspective — Riane Eisler’s Chalice and The Blade is one that I first enjoyed because of Grandma.

Lena was a smart one. A fierce one too. And, a loving one. She took me under her wing for a time, particularly in my lost late teens. She helped me to see a much broader picture. I often think of her when I host groups. In many Art of Hostings, I often imagined that she would have loved those gatherings and those communities.

That’s Grandma Lena above, pictured with my Grandpa Ken. Lena lived to 89 — she passed in 2008. Ken lived to 85 — he passed in 2015. I’ve been lucky to know all of my grandparents. A few of my great grandparents also.

Back to Grandma’s books, gifted in the late 1990s. The books were great. But it’s the note in one of them that I most cherish.

“Tenn — May the wisdom in these books help you both to prevent burnout and maybe you could even teach others to stay on top of their dragons. Anyway, hope you always love us.”

She signed it “G’Ma.”

I don’t remember quite appreciating the note as much then. I was a young father. Full and busy. Not quite so able to lean in the nuanced complexity of my past and future. But, oh, has that note made me smile over the years. I have learned some things. I have taught a fair amount. And I’ve learned about dragons. Angels too.

So glad for it. A note on paper from Lena, G’Ma. And a big helpful guide in my heart. Makes me want to host a few conversations about grandparents. 🙂

“It was community that kept our ancestors alive. And it will be in community that we can support each other through today’s crises.”

I quite like this way of thinking about community. Sometimes family. Sometimes neighbors. Sometimes more distant kin. Sometimes teams. The above diagram comes through NewStories, and more specifically Sarah Van Gelder. It has me reflecting and integrating — that’s what NewStories has been doing forever (thx Bob).

So, I’m going to nuance each of the principles below. Mostly affirmation. And a few extra nudges that I’ve learned over the years. Perhaps these will nudge you too.

1. Gather in person. Yes. There is an activation possible in person that isn’t quite so possible when not in person. Together, in person, we weave a unique field of connection. And we give ourselves a little more permission to share stories that have this way of filling in the cracks between us.
2. All voices are heard. Slight tweak — all voices are invited to be heard. Many of us do our best. We move from “less heard” to “more heard.” But “heard” isn’t an absolute yes or no. It’s ongoing process and commitment toward “more, not less.” And toward “more honest, not more restricted.”
3. Build on what you love. Thank you! It’s one of the most important steps and orientations that I try to encourage. It is to follow life-giving energy. And trust it.
4. Take space, make space. Yes again. In some recent planning, my colleague re-asserted, “whatever we do, I want to feel ample space in it.” Faster isn’t always better. Fuller often is.
5. Share food. This one isn’t as important to me, but it depends on the setting. Community unites all around food, particularly when people bring stuff. We get to be generous together, which is what this one animates in me. But I also find I want people’s full attention to our conversations together. The conversation and curiosity is itself a meal…?
6. Share the work. Yup. My friend Meg taught me long ago, “people support what they create.” That principle has guided me well over many years.
7. Circle up. Yes, please. I love hearing from some of my younger colleagues when they find their love of circle for their love of people and purpose. To circle is to invite connection, courage, compassion — this is what I write in Gifts of Circle.
8. Create brave spaces. People love to play with this one. I kind of like the tweaks. Brave people is an intent. Brave people in brave spaces. I like the nuancing, often to encourage something beyond “safe” spaces.
9. Tell your truth. Yes. And trust that as we each tell our truth, with some values in place, life and learning will re-organize us.
10. Celebrate wins & keep learning. I love the celebration as practice. Learning as practice. We keep going. We keep contributing. We keep lifting honesty, learning, joy.

I’m grateful for such phrases. Thx again to Sarah and to NewStories. And all the other teachers that have been leading the way with such notions.

I so loved Nowing yesterday. Yes, that language is a bit unique. But it fits. As I shared in yesterday’s Becoming & Belonging Session, many of us seek to evolve our relationship with now.

That is, to become more present.
That is, to feel life flowing.
That is, to give up on a few fears.

Yesterday, there were six of us. I said a few words about “nowing” and thanked people for coming. And then, in the spirit of check-in, I invited each to speak to what it is about now that nudges them. Really delicious to hear others clarify what compels.

And then I had people draw. Rough copies. Not a contest nor critique of art. Rather, an invitation to another medium for expression. And then we followed the impressions. No need to tuck it in to a literal meaning. Just to notice what some nowing has to do with the bigger picture. It wasn’t that hard to find.

I loved people’s willingness to go along, which is to say, to remember something through a gently held process of Circle. I love crafting these spaces. Being moved by them. Being moved by the people in them. Being moved by an attentiveness to the vessels that we humans are in the medium of now.

Now is a verb.