At The Bottom Of It All

I like mysteries. I like the unravelling of what was not known, revealed into more categories of the known. I like the feeling of “let’s get to the bottom of it.” I like the deeper understanding, particularly when it reveals an inherent simplicity that was there all along.

In working collaboratively, one layer of the “bottom of it” is “better decision-making.” That and “working better in teams.” We humans, whether in our teams, our committees, our communities, our churches, our families, our governments — I believe that we want to do good together. I believe that we want to be wise together. I believe that we want to experience the promise that “together we are better.”

“Better together” takes root in most philosophical and wisdom traditions. Wisdom councils. Democracy itself. It may seem only vaguely visible, but remains in most of us as a hope. Yet, the practice in life is often not going together. Most of us collapse in complexity, feeing our despair in overwhelm rather than leaning further in to our collectiveness.

I’ve read two pieces lately that highlight the need and a way of thinking about it. The first came from the Parliament of the World’s Religions, Executive Director, Larry Greenfield. His words that touched me are about “scaling back the sacred.” He was providing perspective on Donald Trump’s condescension into Utah this week to remove protection for two national and sacred monuments. It’s a very frustrating move that will surely battle out in the courts now. I know that it is very involved. However, I simply don’t trust Donald Trump’s maturity nor his motives in such a decision. It does not feel at all like “wiser together.”

The second piece I read is from Chris Corrigan’s blog, about better decision-making. The video that Chris includes, featuring Mariano Sigman and Dan Ariely is outstanding. It’s 8 minutes that both create the context and some really helpful and simple examples about doing better together. Enjoy it fully.

Here’s to all of us in the mystery together, perhaps most significantly, to reclaim, at the bottom of it all, the processes of engaging dialogue and diversity that we so desperately need these days to do good together.

 

 

Pool of Relationality

I learned a new phrase last week that I’ve been looking for for a long time. “Pool of relationality.” It was a friend and colleague Corbin Tobey Davis that spoke it as a group of five of us convened in a learning cohort.

Something happens when we create the conditions for being together in deliberate ways. Yes, that is for conversation. Yes, that is for stories. Yes, that is for curiosity and questions together. These are all wonderful things. And most of us have a general orientation towards the power of working together. Even the smallest of inklings toward “the whole is greater than the sum of it’s parts” is helpful.

However, there is a nuanced layer that I’ve been experimenting with for quite sometime. It’s felt a bit elusive, like the search for the philosopher’s stone. Focus too much on it and you will miss it. Focus to little on it, and it will seem not present, though in reality, is nearby. Just not seen nor felt.

I’ve called it “composite being” before. I’ve called it “field.” Sometimes “chemistry.” Sometimes “synchronicity.” Sometimes “flow.” All of these are accurate. And, all are inadequate. Language gives us a chance. But feeling and intuition must accompany language to get us closer to fine.

When we are together, in a pool of relationality, there is just more that is available than when we are not. It is as if we are plugged in to a whole new frequency that gets us in to the secret section of the library that requires special permission to be within. New frequency. New understanding. Deeper understanding. More ease. More obviousness — sometimes so obvious to us as individuals plugged in that we forget quickly that it was the “pool” from which our individual knowing was seeded. The pool, if I offer another image is like a heat source. When you feel that warmth, you can quickly forget about the cold. Yet, step away from the fire into the cold of the night and your realize how great that warmth was, and you seek to return to it.

I’ve worked with oodles of groups. I’ve been participant. I’ve been host and co-host. I’ve been in beginnings, middles, and ends with everyone from strangers to intact shared teams tasked with the future of a project, an initiative, or a vision. I’ve been in 45 minutes huddles that changed everything. I’ve been in multi-day retreats that slow-cooked all of us. It took me a while to even begin to see and count on the pool of relationality. I don’t want to unintentionally get too mystical here — but let’s not remove the mystical either. It too is essential to go with our good minds, and words, and thinking. I’ve seen this pool of relationality be so clear, in the moment. So easy. It would seem like what we get with one another in the pool will never go away. Will never be lost. However, I’ve seen the lost also. That design that felt so easy and obvious when in the pool, became hard to even remember two days later. Or hard to feel imbued with such natural and life-giving energy.

Who we are together is different and more than who we are alone. Thanks Meg Wheatley. It’s one of the key learnings that I picked up that came from our now 25 years of friendship and colleagueship.

Yup. This simple truth, and it’s nuancing, changes how we pay attention to what we get together that we can’t get when we are not together.

I get it that being in teams and relation can be troubling and challenging also. Yes. Sucky at times. Fair. Let’s stay curious about all of that.

But for now, just let our attention rest on the pool. It’s about learning source, not just losing ourselves further in the story of individual (and sometimes egoic) brilliance. To change the story of source — well, that changes a lot doesn’t it.

Thanks Corbin — and everyone I’ve been thinking with and journeying with to get to this glimmer.

This Moment. This Moment. This Moment.

A beloved friend, Charles LaFond has been checking in on me this week.

He knows that I’m euthanizing my family dog, Shadow (shown above), on Saturday. Charles has deep affiliation for his dog, Kai — I know that Charles understands. He knows that this euthanizing will happen at my home. He knows that Shadow has been a great companion. Charles also knows that Shadow has become disoriented (his eyesight and hearing) in his old bones and 14 year-old body.

One of the things I appreciate with Charles is his deep soulfulness. He’s a priest, whose ministry is now focussed on supporting the homeless in New Mexico. I love his centered words that he shared with me this week, knowing that this moment is intricately linked to so much more.

“One step and one moment at a time. This moment. This moment. This moment.”

Thanks Charles. Good practice for much more than what is happening this week, yet feels so extra crystal clear in the day to day of this particular week.

The Healing Time

Some of us face immediate circumstances that require healing.

The paper cut that actually needs a bandage to contain a couple drops of blood and tighten the skin’s connection to re-seal. The sprained ankle that requires rest, ice, compression, and elevation.

Some of us face cumulative life experience that benefits from deliberate healing attention. Loss of loved ones that you realize takes decades to integrate. Paths fulfilled that require a marker in time, and unfulfilled, that require ceremony and ritual.

Healing isn’t an event. It’s an attention. And, I want to believe, natural.

The body and the psyche are coded for wholeness. There’s just a few things that are readily available and try to convince us otherwise, and distract away from an inherent resilience.

Well, that’s good. And, healing isn’t about never being sick. Or never being wounded. Or never feeling loss. Life offers these. Sometimes imposes them.

Count it as a gift to have friends that lend support to our respective healing, be they personal and in the moment, or cumulative that come from life lived. Count it as gift to be witnessed, and encouraged to lean into the sorrow and the wound rather than protected from. The existential has always been as interesting to me as the psychological and the physical.

Yes, I would suggest that we can’t be human without knowing a time or two, even collapsing a time or two, in to the nicks, scrapes, cuts, bruises, wounds, and losses that come with this guest house that is human being (thanks Rumi).

Quanita Roberson, has been one of those friends for me, sharing a few key inspirations with me this week as I tend to the transition that is euthanizing my family dog, Shadow, and the galaxy of stories and memories that connect to such a time.

The poem is from Pesha Gertler, a Seattle area poet and teacher, that died a couple of years ago. She was known for bringing poetry to public places, like on buses and in city council.

The Healing Time
Pesha Gertler (Seattle Area Poet and Teacher)

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy
holy.