Human to Human • Tenneson Woolf

January 23, 2019

Center

I count on center a lot these days, though I think it’s always been true for me, even before learning about The Circle Way. A center in self, a source from which the rivers of perception and wonder might flow. A center for a group, a third space accessible to all, a lake, figuratively, for the the mixing of the tributary waters of experience and important questions. Center holds us. Center connects us. Lately, I’ve been involved with big, and needed big, centers.

The photo above is from co-hosting Ohio Organizing Collaborative (OOC) this week with Quanita Roberson in OOC’s All Staff Retreat. This center has been growing over the days together. It is my experience generally, and specifically this week, that the center transform a room from “just a room” to a hearth from which a pile of important things can happen.

Included above:

In preparation: The cloth, brought by Quanita. Gives it beauty. And some history with stories of other circles — if cloths could talk (which perhaps they do). The plant, a “work with what you’ve got” center. It’s living. I needed something to center my arranging of chairs. The plant became that, and stuck, propped up slightly on top of another upside down bowl.

Round 1: The candles, one for each participant. These are the 8-inch jar candles that are a dollar at The Dollar Store. Decorated with oil-based paint pens by each participant upon first arriving in our meeting space. “Make it your own; make it beautiful,” we tell them. It becomes a kind of ritual to light the candles when we start each day, and to blow them out when we leave each day. Getting ourselves to the center. And letting it go.

Round 2: The photo cards, again, one for each participant. This set comes from colleague and friend, Carla Kimble, who started collecting her photos, printed on 4 x 6 cardstock. We invited each person to choose a card (from a bigger selection) that represents an intention that they want to carry with them in the week of learning. I love having one of the access points be an image.

Round 3: Objects that represent something important to each participant in why they do the work that they do. Stones. Poems. Pouches. Photos. Necklaces. Placing an object in the middle comes with invitation to tell a story, which of course connects the group even more. It adds to the lake. It adds to the fire.

There’s other stuff in there. The lines of blue tape were used for a few exercises. The juggling balls that I put in there, just because. The bells to be used for a pause.

Centers matters. Centers hold us. Centers give us a channel to be connected with the group. They give us the transformational shift in awareness, that perhaps beyond the moment of the retreat, we are, in fact, connected. In beauty. In story. In purpose. In energy.

January 22, 2019

Fire

I loved the beginning last night, working with staff from the Ohio Organizing Collaborative. Twenty-five have gathered. They valued their time together. Their friendships. Their stories.

These are people involved on the frontlines of organizing people in social justice initiatives and reform. In churches. In incarceration policy. In young people on campuses. They are fierce. Yet kind. They are building capacity to insist on democracy for many that are underrepresented.

Our start included a fire ceremony, to create letting go so that the new could come. Biggest fire I’ve been part of in a long time, at Franklinton Center at Bricks. And some big letting go.

I’m glad to be with people to share the journey. I’m glad to contribute to the journey with Quanita Roberson.

January 21, 2019

With Thanks To Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver was an American Poet, loved by many, including me, for her invitations to pay attention, particularly to the natural world. She had a way of connecting the natural world “out there” to the wild and natural world “in here,” internal to humans.

She died last Thursday. She was 83.

Over the years I’ve been delighting in her poetry. Sometimes smiling with appreciation — ah, yes, “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Sometimes in relief, ah, — “announcing your place in the family of things.” And sometimes, as just the right gift to friends (most recently, Dog Songs).

Her poetry often interrupted the noise of the world. She invited paying attention, which of course, requires living with attention. She invited pace, not just speed.

Thanks Mary Oliver. Again and again.

January 17, 2019

Get to the Subconscious — It’s Personal, And, It Matters

Oh dear — some extra personal reflection — the personal that is actually universal. Here goes.

Symbols matter to me. Symbols that create access to areas of my subconscious that are, well, subconscious. Sometimes the symbol is a picture. Sometimes the symbol is a scene from a movie. Sometimes the symbol is a detail from another person’s story. Sometimes the symbol is from a set of cards or archetypes. Each can be remarkably fruitful to gain access to the largely unconscious way in which I, and human beings, make meaning and discover just a bit more of how the inner subjective world projects an outer, and more presumed, objective reality. In short, the view depends on the viewer. And what determines the view is a lot of largely unknown stuff on the inside.

Symbols matter to me. Relationship with the invisible matters to me. Finding meaning matters to me. Sourcing matters to me. I don’t know why. It’s just always been this way for me. Lately I’ve been taking stronger stands for the “so much more that is going on than what we humans typically pick up in our regular bandwidth of perception.” It is in realms like this that I tend to feel a bit alien. Over overly serious. I can see, and want to see, more of what is underneath the known. I feel a bit weird with this. And afraid of being alone in it. However, my experience is often the opposite. People are hungry to make sense of their lives and their environments in the best ways possible, including through a few swims into the invisible.

One source of symbols that I particularly rely on is my dreams. It quite amazes me that even the most simple and silliest fragments of a dream have power to unlock a whole pile of the unseen. I find this to be quite fun and playful. And very informative. Key tip — write your dream down when you have it. Even a word or two in the middle of the night. Or a few typed words on your bedside phone can do the trick. So that you can come back to it in the morning. The subconscious mind and heart get trumped pretty quickly when the waking day begins, even that dreams that I didn’t think would be possible to forget.

Last night I dreamed that I’m in Invermere, British Columbia, Windermere Lake (pictured above, but in the dream there is no water slide and very few people), accessed through Kinsmen Beach (traditional lands of the Niitsitapi Blackfoot and Secwepemc). It is summer. I am my current age. This is a place that I’ve been to about a dozen times over the last twenty years of summer holiday. I’m swimming in Windermere Lake. A friend has asked me how far out from the beach you can go and still be able to stand to touch the bottom. I don’t know, but I swim a long way out — it feels like 3/4 of a mile. I’m a bit scared and alone in this part of the lake. I’ve had a fear of deep waters since I was a young kid. I stop swimming to see if I can touch. I can. I’m surprised. And relieved. I call back to my friend to let her know. I wake.

Your symbols from this snippet of a dream might be different than mine. There is no wrong answer. It might be the lake, the beach, the traditional lands, the fear, swimming. Trust however, that there are piles of paths to follow that are fruitful (here’s the five steps I created to see more in my dreams).

For me, the location was significant. The place of summer holiday was a place of joy and safety for me. Hmmm… A part of me now seeks joy and the safety that comes from connection and belonging that was in those 20 years of holidays.

This body of water was significant. It is actually a passing through section for the Columbia River, whose headwaters are another 30 miles or so south, and that eventually make their way to the Pacific Ocean near Portland, Oregon. Windermere lake is technically a widened section of the Columbia River. Big waters. A part of me feels the bigness of the life circumstances I’m in, and that as a secondary note, do in fact, flow.

Swimming far into the lake was significant. Being scared was significant. I’m aware of a part of me that feels scared of the long way to go, that requires far.

The relief of touching the bottom was significant. Ah, relief. A part of me wants to feel relief, that perhaps what I thought was going to be way over my head, isn’t after all.

Dreams matter to me. Being awake matters to me.

Ah, back to facilitation. In my facilitation work, working with symbols, sometimes dreams, means that it is imperative to remain in connection with one another. In well held containers. With perpetual curiosity for the inner landscape that is a human consciousness. With perpetual curiosity for the outer landscape generated by engagement and learning with one another. It all changes. It all is connected. It requires us to pay attention. It’s deeply fulfilling and fruitful to create organizational culture that expects to work with symbols together and many layers of awareness — to be guided by life and spirit energy.

This writing isn’t all tucked in for me. I’m learning to give myself permission to not have it all figured out. But I can still feel the tugs in me — wanting to know what it means.

For now, what does feel clear to me — if the view depends on the viewer, it matters that we human beings further encourage cultures that tease out the personal, for the gift, I hope, of seeing what helps to see the universal. The personal matters. For helping to shape ways forward. And, well, it just feels really satisfying and joyful too.