Wrigley Field

If you look closely, the sign says, “Wrigley Field.” It’s not Chicago’s historic Wrigley, home of the Cubs, who are the current World Series Champions in North America’s National Baseball League. It is on Whidbey Island, off the west coast of Washington State, in the cozy town of Langley. You could take all of the people in the Langley and surrounding area, about 5,000, and fit them eight times into the Wrigley Field of Chicago. This Wrigley is quaint. Deliciously green. Historic in reference, but more likely occupied by characters of the Sandlot.

Near Whidbey’s Wrigley, I and the rest of our working board for The Circle Way have been at a planning meeting and retreat this week. It’s been an essential time together. We took on a mix of three intentions together.

1. Seeing the big picture — the sight of the eagles, a few of which flew not far from our meeting place overlooking Langley’s place on the Puget Sound. It is important that we let ourselves evolve in the place of seeing possibility, of wondering together, of wandering not just in the external grounds of Wrigley, but in the imaginative grounds of how to further help the broad, global community that is The Circle Way.

2. Getting work done — the groundedness of a buffalo. On the earth, in the dirt. Updating webpages. Revisiting budget. Tending to databases. Writing newsletters. It’s chop wood and carry water kinds of stuff.

3. Caring for each other — the softness of a dear. This is hard work, at one layer. There are tears and aches. For the state of the world. For our friends and colleagues. For people and communities that are starving for essential containers like The Circle Way to do everything from restore sanity to provide direction, from grieving together to celebrating thoughtful and essential progression and evolution.

I’m proud of this board. This group of people, that spend four days together in circle to figure out where we are and where we are next headed. To figure out how to be of service in the most sustainable and co-created ways. To be give such thoughtful attention to what this is for and how to further shift a paradigm from competition to cooperation and collaboration – in community and in governance.

It’s historic.

The Importance of Questions

Thanks HSD for sharing this Chinese proverb (and many other insights I enjoyed through their newsletter).

A man who asks is a fool for five minutes.
A man who never asks is a fool for life.

I learned a similar principle when I was learning to speak Korean in my twenties, and living in South Korea. I learned that I was “going to make 1000 mistakes anyway — might as well get through them.” Those people that were with me that were afraid of making mistakes never learned nearly as well as those willing to make the mistakes and feel a bit stupid.

Many people I know are keenly interested in good questions. For lots of good reasons. Among them, the Albert Einstein quote, “if I had an hour to solve a problem, I’d spend the first 55 minutes trying to determine what is the right question…”

In this article, written with my friend and colleague, Kathleen Masters, we take on these aspects of good questions:

  • Is it meaningful?
  • Does it invite curiosity and reflective thinking?
  • Does it challenge assumptions?
  • Does it lead to other questions?
  • Is it simple?
  • Does it lead to possibility?
  • Does it welcome a quality of caring together?
  • Does it look for more than “yes or no?”
  • Is it well-sequenced?

What I continue to learn and encourage with others, is that if they want to become better at questions, to become radically curious. To embody a stance of radical curiosity is to open ourselves to the many subtle and intricate ways that life, and people, and projects, are deliciously interconnected. Behind questions is always genuine curiosity.

 

 

Earth Prayers

From Joanna Macy, from the book, Earth Prayers, and invoked to begin a day of meeting as the board for The Circle Way, by my friend Sarah.

We hear you, fellow-cratures.
We know we are wrecking the world and we are afraid.
What we have unleashed has such momentum now,
we don’t know how to turn it around.
Don’t leave us alone,
we need your help. 
You need us too for your own survival.
Are there powers there you can share with us?

“I, lichen, work slowly, very slowly. Time is my friend. This is what I give you: patience for the long haul and perseverance.”

It is a dark time. As deep-diving trout I offer you my fearlessness of the dark.”

“I, lion, give you my roar, the voice to speak out and be heard.”

“I am caterpillar. The leaves I eat fast bitter now. But dimly I sense a great change coming. What I offer you, humans, is my willingness to dissolve and transform. I do that without knowing what the end-result will be; so I share with you my courage too.”

Working Together — David Whyte

Thanks Bill Muhr, for reminding me of this poem last week. David Whyte, as he usually does, highlights this relationship between the visible and invisible, which I found myself thinking about much on the weekend.

 

WORKING TOGETHER

We shape our self
to fit this world

and by the world
are shaped again.

The visible
and the invisible

working together
in common cause,

to produce
the miraculous.

I am thinking of the way
the intangible air

passed at speed
round a shaped wing

easily
holds our weight.

So may we, in this life
trust

to those elements
we have yet to see

or imagine,
and look for the true

shape of our own self,
by forming it well

to the great
intangibles about us.

— David Whyte
from The House of Belonging
©1996 Many Rivers Press