Author: Tenneson Woolf

Two days ago I spoke on the phone with a good friend and colleague, Caitlin Frost. Caitlin is among many things, a deep practitioner of “The Work,” as described in Byron Katie‘s books. I have learned that when I talk with Caitlin I want to have a pen and paper close by. Insights pour through. Some from what she shares of her journey. Some from what becomes open and clear in my journey in this space of friendship.

Our conversation two days ago had a heading for me of “Consciousness.” I invited the conversation. I wanted to share some of what I was noticing through my process of journaling of the past week, in which I was focused on letting go of stories. Life stories. Ones long lived, but not with enough of my consciousness. Some surprising ones that were actually quite harmful. I needed to give attention to this, with a question:

“What are you/we/I learning about becoming more conscious and awake? In particular, about clearing stories?”

At the center of this learning was clarity, for me, that consciousness is such a journey. It often feels that doors open to reveal many, many, many more doors. And some of those doors aren’t new. They are the ones we missed a while back and have showed up anew. Funny. I laugh in the rooms behind some of those doors. I cry in some of them too.

A couple of gems among many, that help me in this part of the journey.

Notice the Fish — If not doors, perhaps fish. Swimming in the water. Sometimes difficult to see, but then with a turn in the light become fully present. We all carry stories with us. Some we are aware of and have chosen to keep. Some we are simply blind too. The choosing, and the blindness, influence who we are, what we see, what we feel, what we do. I love how Caitlin described the fish. “Sometimes you run into a shark.” Seemingly small things can actually create access to very important and far-reaching stories. A variation of this – I know I’m mixing metaphors but they all seem to help — is to shine the flashlight within ourselves. It’s not that what we see wasn’t there before. We are just shinging a bit of light on it.

Put It On Paper — To put it on paper is to welcome a different relationship with it. In Byron Katie’s work, writing is an important part of the process of becoming more awake, clear, and conscious. This rings very true for me. To write it is to come to know it in a different way. And to know it is to invite more choice in how to be in relation with it. There was an important addition that Caitlin offered. “If I believe it for five minutes, it can link to a whole life.” Funny. And powerful in many directions here. For example, to believe an “incompetent” story for five minutes can energetically infuse so many unrelated contexts with incompetence. Fun to think of the flip side of this too. To believe a competence story and have it infuse other contexts.

The point for me is not a manipulation of self. Not a shallow motivational approach. It is to notice the complex beings that we all are. Self. Other. Community. And to come to know more of the simple steps and practices that help clear us — self, other, community — to be in the journey that most needs us now, and the work that is so perfectly advanced because of our journeys in consciousness.

OK, I’m not sure why, but this feels like a bit of a confession. Perhaps more accurately, an admission to myself. I offer it in hope of inviting a reframing of documenting and harvesting. So that I can settle down a bit in my own practice. And as a question about harvesting that can help all of us who do it to improve our craft, to center our craft.

Despite my very strong desire to harvest out oodles of insights that happen on a daily basis — all of which are extremely valuable in some way — I can’t keep up. Some are from work events. Some are from books or articles. Many are from conversations with colleages and friends. Many are from work meetings. Some are from simple times of quietness. I don’t feel particularly unique in this way. Most people I know are very busy, living life, in the doing, and are very full. Few of us capture all of what comes to us.

However, I often feel disappointment in my not harvesting more. Like a huge gift just got overlooked. In participatory leadership, it can be the difference between “that was a good conversation, now lets get back to our real work” and “that was a great meeting that now launches clear and sustainable action steps.”

So, as I was thinking yesterday about the many things I wanted to harvest — many of which are now old dusty post-it notes and feeling like a burdon piled in a growing stack — I found myself asking how I might think differently about harvesting? What would free me from the tyranny of volume into the aliveness of periodic noticing?

A translation of this question could be what other choices do we have than creating laborious, thick, text filled reports that few read? Massive effort. Less than massive impact. What other ways might help capture the energy and power of the whole without needing a detailed complete history of all that happened?

The insight for me was about documenting. I don’t have the time to document, as in record the full and comprehensive history, of all of the work that I am in or of all the life that I am in. There is a part of me that wants to make the time to do so, and believes that I can — who needs sleep anyway. But for me, I know inside this is unnecessary and quite draining. What I do want is to choose one or two…artifacts…that give me / us access to the energetic whole of the comprehensive experience.

“Access to the energetic whole” is I suppose another form of the old adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” That image of my son Isaac holding his first fish that he caught brings me energetically to the whole of the experience — the lake, the peanut butter sandwiches we ate, the breeze coming off of the lake.

I know that many of us are in a deep practice of creating artifacts, the pictures. Sometimes as words, or stories, or pictures, or images, or videos, or phrases, or music, etc. I think the world view underneath this is what is calling to me now. A holistic view that I practise is that not only is the whole greater than the sum of the parts, but also, the whole is available in any of the parts. Like I’m told the DNA for an entire body is available in each of the cells. From this view, the work of harvesting shifts from an obsession or obligation to get all of it in its volume, to the freedom of following one or two sparks that provide gateway into the resonance, the energy of the whole experience. Gateway to the resonance is the hit for me.

OK, I wonder what this view might free me / us to do in the practice of harvesting?

My first clarity is that in writing some on this blog, my resonance shifts into feeling a harvest of the whole — which in this case may be more about a stream of consciousness and learning and creation rather than the log of all things. The resonance as the center of the harvest is what I sense is most lasting. And I have this sense that many of us are coming to see and language more of this. In my hosting settings, I want people to remember and reactivate the feeling of clarity and community that they felt in being together, and organize from that.

The part as gateway to the whole — that honors the multiple ways of getting to what matters and it does so through simplicity. That’s a practice I want to spend more time with.

Another post on four levels of harvest from some work with The Center for Human Development. See the very end.

Lately I have noticed a few improv resources that I am finding really helpful. One is a book written by a man, Robert Poynton, whom I met many years ago at a Berkana Dialogue. Robert emailed me last week to tell me about his book, “Everythings an Offer: How to Do More With Less.” His website for the book is here. I like its playful design in an of itself. I also love the language he uses to sum up the book in six words: “Let go. Notice more. Use everything.” Good guidance for most aspects of life.

Here is a bit more context from Robert’s website:

“This book explains how to make more with what you have, using less effort, less energy and less resources (and with less difficulty and stress). And who wouldn’t want that? It describes how and why we all need to improvise (let’s face it, no-one has a script for their life) and explains that the seemingly magical abilities of improvisers in the theatre are based on a small set of simple practises that anyone can learn.
This method, it turns out, can be used by anyone leading a busy and complicated life (that’s you isn’t it?) to build any kind of relationships or ideas. The book suggests that improvisational practise is like a new language which gives you new ways to understand and respond to events that are beyond your control and is illustrated with a wealth of stories and anecdotes, personal and professional, that include everything from advertising to zen.”

A second resource is another book, “Improv Wisdom: Don’t Prepare, Just Show Up” by Patricia Ryan Madson. The book is here. Though I haven’t read it yet, the chapter titles alone were enough to spark many ideas for me in my design of events. Check these: Say Yes; Just Show Up; Start Anywhere; Pay Attention; Wake Up to the Gifts; Make Mistakes, Please; Act Now; Take Care of Each Other; Enjoy the Ride.

Simply rich. Stories. Wonderings. Shared among Berkana friends. Focused on a question. Listening. Giving full support. Daring to be in our learning edges, knowing it is the only way.

How Are You Navigating in this Time of Dramatic Change?
November 2008

Can you hear me? I am near, me. Near without fear.

I’m tellin’ a story about these Atlantic waters.
In my first ocean worthy boat sailin’ with all of us new in the deep sea blue.
I thought the harbor would be visible and open.
Of fuck, it is all haze.
I saw the opening for one moment only, but it was all we needed in that day.
I would do it again. And I do.

Popped up in scale, I remind others I have no idea what I’m doing.
I’m shedding myself into longevity and multi scale.
I just read your article and committed to try it. Whack this out. Here we go.
Feelin’ the real, collapsing in the market.
We are nose to nose, on the hunt for what works.
Copin’ for me is in my hope. The only way that I can hold scale is by being in family.
The scale works me in my frail, my shaking tail.

I so want to be there, to get as close as I can.
Not waiting. No gating. Beyond dating. The journey of my soul awakens.

I sound like I don’t know what I am doing, but I do know.
I find my way in the immediately infront, the next simple elegant step.
I’m seeking clarity of direction. Detection of that direction.
Shape and motion in this collection to direction.
Looking at this land, my partner and I, but we are letting come.

Awaken to oneness.
Work with friends.
Work with simplicity.
These are the tools I know that help me navigate
My practice in the day to day, this way to that way.

I’m in my physical parallel breakdown.
Systemic crisis is teaching me what my life is.
Learning that I’m not less than. We are not less than.
In right relation in this station.
I’m so hungry for home. Building beyond this roam.
Integrity, feeling on my edge.
This phase in these days.
Takin’ it in like a sponge and needing my time.

Back in the day, we practiced river time.
Without watches, setting up camp,
watching the stars, seeing my clarity in tending my gear.
I’m often wrong, but never in doubt.
I’m not buying my own bullshit.
This phase is groundless and very confusing.
What is this crap? Grow some food!
There is no release as I spiral in.

Language separates. Sound anchors. Songs. Sounds. Rounds.
Meetin’ in vibration we find our unity in our community.
The ground I’ve found, but the compass of figuring it out isn’t working.
I can feel the gazillions of answers – we remember more in our silence.

I got through labor with low vocalization.
Moo with me. You too, with me.
We are holding you as you move to the rim and get your baby home.
I’ve been to that rim.
My center is in our house. Our home. Our basic home.
Nursing and getting people to bed.
Steppin with my grandfather to the places he couldn’t dream of going.
Travelling across these times, feeling the birth of possibility,
Bringing that baby home too.

It just comes naturally – the mooing. The moaning through the groaning.
I’ve been bailing out my ship, spinning through conversations with friends.
Talking about our stuff on the couch.
I’m trying to be with my mad, unaware of our own neighborhoods.
What if I lose the anger? There are hearts achin’ and breakin’
As I remember what it means to be together.

Speedin’ in this boat, afloat in the choppy waters.
I’m trying to slow down but feeling my heavy foot on the accelerator.
Sleep walking in the consumerist pattern.
Evicted from our garden, from our growing.
I’m opening dialogues, other gardens with conversations about Zim dollars.

Speaking from Greece, we eleven women
Cried our way into arriving, grieving our thriving.
Wearing masks as we show more of our selves in the world.
I knew we just needed to feed these women.
Making bread, up late at night, watching the grief clear.
I need to be clear.
Standing in my places with many faces.
Stil in the world. Being still, still in the world.

Wanting to know my place – it might just be a fantasy.
The dark in the coal mine teaches me to be where I am.
My perspective shifted ten years ago; I turned in to myself.
Taught by my hacking, again,
as I’m being navigated to the sweet spots of deep spiritual outside of all this stuff.
Boldly just be. Boldly just be.
What I need shows up in abundance as I take my jewelry off, just bein’ here.
Doin’ a lot of good deeply in some place.

The first time on that 26 footer in the Gulf of Mexico,
I learned about shielding myself to the sun.
Back up the Houston ship channel,
making our way amidst huge oil tankers in the mid of night.
I was completely aware of the fleet, the sail, and the harmony. Attentive.
Thank you Wendell – “Willing to die, you give up your will. Keep still until moved by that which moves all, you are moved.”
Connect.
Take in all that I can.
Tell the truth. We don’t have time not to.