Author: Tenneson Woolf

Later this week I am working with a UCC Congregation in Grinnell, Iowa. They are lead by a tremendous pastor, who is vibrant in heart and wise well beyond his years. The event is stewarded by a group of 11, a core team, that has been helping to invite the surprise and possibility that can arise from a group of caring people that come together with some deliberateness. This group too, is vibrant in heart and overflowing with life wisdom. There will be 30 of us or so from the congregation that will gather from Thursday night through Saturday. Sunday will be a celebratory worship and sharing of what we did.

Why gather? It is to give live to 4-6 strategic experiments that will shape the next few years (or seasons) of life in this congregation. Some of those experiments may already be functioning. Some of them may be new. Some of them will be applied to what most would call projects and initiatives. Some of them will be ways to add to a deliberate culture of kindness and love among each other and in their community. The random acts of goodness that can be uniquely refreshed by being together.

When first approached several months ago, the invitation to me was to do strategic planning with them. It is not a semantic battle that I’m interested in, but I must say that I’m proud that we shifted that language to strategic “experiments.” No doubt, we will do some planning together. Committees will be formed, or groups to work together. Chairs, or something parallel to that will be named. But strategic plans connote a certainty that many of us may feel comforted by, but rarely, if ever, exists. Plans often don’t work out as we intend them to, particularly the complex ones. This, despite some really good thinking and preparing.

Strategic “experiments” interrupt, or begin to interrupt the mindset of certainty. Why? Well, life itself is far less predictable than we might claim. Many of us can name with widely shared acknowledgement, things that we thought we could control but then learned quickly that we couldn’t. Raising a child comes to mind. Raising a congregation comes to mind. Marriages and other forms of partnership come to mind. Experiments will give us something to do, definitely. But they welcome a mindset of uncertainty that underlays that doing. Of trying something out. Of letting go. Of sharing observations. Of patience for the unknown.

This ability to become comfortable with the unknown inherent in an experiment, is itself, a core competency. In an individual, it’s awesome. When widely shared in a group, it’s doubly awesome! It creates the very container for not just a plan, but for an adaptiveness to many plans in ever changing circumstances. To not just receive a fish per day, but to learn to fish, to move in the waters, to work with different bait, to come to know the river itself.

I’m grateful to be with these impressive people. In the work we have to do. And in the community building that we will surely add too. And in the capacity building that will come from us experimenting the way forward.

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Two days ago I harvested this tray of tomatoes and peppers from my garden. I was surprised by how many I found. These plants grow well in the hot summer days of Utah. Lots of Cherry Tomatoes, red and purple. Some Romas. A few Banana Peppers. A few Dragon Cayenne Peppers. It’s a fall harvest, likely the last of the harvests that produce a full tray. I’ll use them mostly for salads and a few toasted tomato sandwiches. With friends.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m posting this picture. I feel happy about it. I grew these. Not with a lot of attention. I did have to pull back a few weeds and snip through a few vines to get to the fruit. But I did grow them with a lot of anticipation. For the fruit, yes. That’s obvious. But I think I also grew these for the feeling of growing something. For the feeling that I would have of my hands in the dirt. For the smell of the tomato plant itself.

I need, and perhaps many of us do, a connection to things that are alive. To growing things. That sounds a bit dramatic. But it’s true. Particularly from the story that says, “we are nature.” We too, live in cycles. We too, depend on the sun, on rain, on nourishment. We too, inhabit a much broader circle of life. There is a grace in that awareness, isn’t there. It is comforting to me. Satisfying.

Tomatoes are a big part of the harvest, clearly. But maybe, we too, are the harvest. Merely because we have tended and anticipated, because we have let ourselves be part of something alive.

 

 

 

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A friend recently shared this Apache blessing with me. He’s a thoughtful friend, who has been through a few careers. I love him for his clarity and simplicity.

May the sun bring you new energy by day;

may the moon softly restore you by night;

may the rain wash away your worries;

may the breeze blow new strength into your being. 

When I let myself wonder about the deep layers of work that many of us are doing together, “blessing” feels like part of that. Yes, it’s conversational leadership. Yes, it’s strategic visioning. Yes, it is practicing methods of engagement. And, knowing each other well enough to offer blessing for the work that must happen — that’s pretty cool. Witnessing each other well enough to feel blessed and encouraged — that’s rather inspiring. Invoking divinity into these human lives, the unseen that shapes these temporary structures that enable us to live — that’s rather striking.

Blessing.

 

The 90 second film below is a spoof on prescription medication advertisements. It has the usual stuff. Cheezy and cheeky characters. Coercive narrative (a prescription will take care of everything). Required warnings. Soft music. The film brilliant in part because behind the humor are things that ring true. truths. One of those is that “we are nature.” And, “it’s helpful to spend time in nature.”

I use these truths often in workshop design. For example, designing time for people to take a walk. To get outside. To rest from the dialogue and planning. To pause in the strategizing. Walks can  be in the forest — it’s great to work in retreat settings. But it also could be in a neighborhood. Or even just staring into the sky for a bit. It can be a moment of reflection and meditation with attention to a natural setting.

Being in nature is an invocation to a pause. I long for the freedom that welcomes a pause like this, just because. Without justification. But just in case some verbiage is needed to make it more utilitarian, what I share with people is that nature invites a different mode for sense-making.

It was the poet David Whyte that once said a concept that has stuck with me. “Sometimes, the truth depends on a walk round the lake.”

Enjoy this spoof. For the fun of it. And for the challenge to welcome pause.