A reposne I made today on the Art of Hosting list about the workshop we are leading this week:
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I’m about to board a flight from Toronto to Vancouver and I had the thought this morning that I might share this flight with the Vancouver Whitecaps FC my local football (soccer) team. I am a huge fan of these guys, a member of one of the supporters groups and a seasons ticket holder. And I was dreading sharing the flight with the team.
The reason? The Whitecaps absolutely blew the best chance they have had in years of inning the Canadian Championship cup final last night. They came out against Toronto FC – a team that has lost its first 9 games of the season, a team that one of heir own called “the worst in the world” – and they lost. They needed a goal to go ahead in the second leg and they failed to score. They put on the most dismal performance I have ever seen them play. They didn’t link up, they didn’t have a shot on goal, they stood in against a crappy team that was determined to foul them, waste time and destroy the pace of the game and they caved in.
I can only imagine this morning the heartbreak and disappointment they must be feeling. I have had days like that – when nothing goes right despite your best intentions. When something that seems easy and straightforward gets completely overtaken by circumstance. When complacency creates a cascade of effects that tips the system towards chaos and there is nothing to do but retreat and hit reset.
There is no guaranteed results in sport, and football is one of those sports that will always surprise you. There is never a guarantee that even the easiest of tasks in the most favourable of circumstances will work out. Disappointment is an inevitable part of working in the unknown. Heartbreak is a possible outcome.
So live it and move on. There is nothing else to do but host yourself through it and realize that, in the game of complex outcomes, the next possibility has arisen right now.
Go Caps. We have a derby against Portland on the weekend. Reset and kick some ass.
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At our art of hosting water dialogues this morning, several insights on the four fold practice of hosting:
- on hosting ourselves, one of the participants who used to work in emergency medicine shared his team’s mantra: in an emergency the first pulse you take is your own,
- participating means coming to any situation with curiosity and an ability and desire to learn something
- the practice of hosting doesn’t mean you need to be an expert. To convene you simply need the desire and courage to call and hold.
- the practice of co-creation is born from generosity and sharing resources, skills, opportunities and knowledge.
- as we move through the four fold practice we evolve from a learner to a community of learners to a community that learns. This last shift is often the hardest.
- at the core of this practice is intention. To come to the practice with intention is to activate it.
- it is surprising how quickly we can move to co-creation when we have practiced together once, we did a signing exercise that took the group through two rounds of co-creation and we quickly moved to creating music together that was unimaginable 10 minutes before.
I love how groups just spark insights. You can teach this stuff dozens of dozens of times and there is always something new to learn.
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My friend Ginny Belden-Charles told me a great story today. She was working in Detroit on some community development issues with a number of activists and others. Their focus was on empowering community development and social action and creating the kinds of citizen based responses that Detroit needs, and she was invited to come and host a circle.
When Ginny arrived in her circle of folks, she was amazed at the presence of the famous revolutionary activist Grace Lee Boggs. Grace Lee Boggs is an institution in social activist circles and at 96 years old, with 70 years of practice under her bel, she is an elder in the world of social activism, and is dedicated to the long waves of social change.
Ginny reported on how in awe she was of being able to sit in a circle with this important persona and how she was looking forward to learning some of her wisdom. So when she asked Grace to begin the circle, she was eager to hear what this Elder might say.
To Ginny’s surprise, Grace turned to Ginny and said: “So why don’t you tell us tell us your story…what have you learned?”
I think you must get awfully smart by engaging in that strategy for 96 years.
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Last night in Vancouver listening to Le Vent du Nord, a terrific traditional band from Quebec. They put on one of the best live shows I have seen in a long time with outstanding musicianship combined with incredible energy. Listening to them and watching people dancing I had a deep experience of why we humans need art. It brings us into a joyful relationship which each other that we seem built to need – a kind of belonging that transcends each of our individual reservations, a sort of shared ecstasy. The cynic might say that such an attitude is decadent in a world of suffering, but I think it is clear that without these experiences of ourselves as joyful collectives, the serious work of living in our time is compromised by our own personal and private fears.
Lately I have been working with mainline Protestant churches and Christian communities a lot and I have appreciated being able to bring deep cultural and spiritual stories to our work together. The times they are all in are times n which the traditional forms of Church are dying and the new forms havent yet arrived. And while the leaders i have been with welcome the shift, many congregations are in grieving about the loss of an old way of doing things,
Last weekend in Atlanta, the group I was with picked the story of Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones to explore together. In that story, Ezekiel, who is a shaman, is carried into the spirit world where is comes across a valley of bones. Turns out that these are the bones of an army and God says to him “can these bones live?” Ezekiel does what all good shamans do when confronted with the awesome power of mystery and gives up any pretense of knowing the outcome. So together, God gives Ezekiel instructions and wakes up an army.
The armies of the old testament stories have always troubled me, because they are forever slaughtering and committing genocide because of God’s commands. But read as an allegory, suddenly this stuff becomes very powerful. For example, most spiritual paths have you confronting archetypal enemies on your pathway, such as greed or anger or the ego. To achieve enlightenment, to get to the promised land, means overcoming these enemies. And an army then seen in this context is a group of people that are greater than any one person’s fear.
So here is Ezekiel in the valley into which an army has been led and slaughtered, and he is being engaged in the work of waking up an army. Why? Well, once they have been woken up, God tells Ezekiel that they can go home. Home is the promised land, a place of freedom and kindness and relaxation and fearlessness. Coming home to oneself, finding home as a community.
To illustrate, another story I heard yesterday. One of the congregations I have been working with has been waking up to themselves in the work we have been doing together. When a group of people wakes up like that one has, all the dust and cobwebs come off them, and all of their beauty and warts are revealed. While we have designed and implemented many little projects in the Church, we have also awoken a little power struggle over a small but important issue. Typical of these kinds of issues, a small group has dug its heels in and doesn’t see its impact or connection to the larger community. Last night they all met and with some deliberate hosting, quickly discovered a common consensus on moving forward, one which I am led to believe takes each person outside of themselves and into a common centre of action.
In short, they had a different experience of themselves and each other, an experience that awakens the centre that Le Vent du Nord awakened last night. It is an experience that Christians can understand fully from their traditional teachings – Jesus constantly talks about love at the centre of the work of the world, and that community is the experience we are after. In the best forms of Christianity – including the form in which I was brought up! – the spiritual path is one of discovering kindness and a shared centre. From that place, transformation of community, family, organizations, and the world can be experienced and pursued. The hard work of dealing with power is made more human by acting from love and the beautiful work of cultivating relationship is put us to use by transforming power.
Last week I took an afternoon in Atlanta and went to visit Martin Luther King Jr’s Church where love and power awoke together in what King called “beloved community.”. These past months and years, I realize that this is what I am working for everywhere – in First Nations, organizations, communities, companies, churches and elsewhere. The beloved community draws us back home to our own humble humanity. It tempers the world’s harsh edges and it enables powerful structures to create beautiful outcomes.
And that experience is worth waking up for. Even an army.