Human to Human

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I blog. It’s been ten years now of 175-200 posts per year. That’s Monday through Thursday most weeks. And prior to that, it was ten years of more sporadic posting. Streaks here and there. I’ve been thinking about why I blog so often about little noticings. Micro-awarenesses. Little appreciations.

Quite often when blogging, I start by perusing my recent photos on my phone. I’m looking for something interesting. Something little. Something micro. Something that created a recent appreciative moment. The photo above, geese standing on ice, at a nearby pond where Dana and I walked Sunday — does the trick. I like the reflection of the geese. I like the mental surprise (a pond where geese are often swimming, but are now standing). I liked wondering about what geese might think of their partially frozen pond.

Back to the why of blogging. For me.

1. I blog so as to live an attentive life. A curious life. A curiosity with how life flows. And organizes. And invites. And compels. I like converting that noticing from perception to words. It’s inner found through outer. It’s outer created through found inner.
2. I blog to develop a habit and practice of appreciation. For learning. For beauty. For celebration. Appreciation as a lifestyle. As a way of being. As an operating mode to encounter the world. As a kindness to the complexity within me an around me.
3. I blog to encourage associativeness. To connect things. To speak of connection that already is. To widen the lane of perception through the most narrow of openings. I both like and need to feel things non-linear. And less reductive.

And, and, and. There are more likely 47 reasons why I blog. Maybe even 113. But today, this is enough fFor me. And for a few of my closer-in peeps that also seek to sort their lives. Micro-practices of attention, appreciation, association — yup, it’s some of the best simple that I know. For blogging. For living as human.

Wislawa Szymborska was a Polish poet and Nobel Laureate. I went looking for a poem this morning — wishing brevity of expression to match up, or nurture, what is in me and those I love that are both near and far.

I found one, within a collection that I have, Leading From Within. An ear-marked page, from a time long ago, a first reading of this poem.

I quite love this book, Leading From Within. For all of the pointing that it does to growing and nurturing a resilient and imaginative interior.

Enjoy.

A Note
Wislawa Szymborska

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it’s not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble on a stone,
end up drenched in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing
something important.

Yum. “…keep on not knowing something important…” It is such kind orientation. And good company.

Grateful.

I’ve been learning a lot about myself over the last couple of weeks. As one should. Or, does. Or, get’s to. My learnings these days so often point to some of the deeper story of going well together in groups. The deeper story of what brings us alive together.

There were two things that I particularly appreciated last week in working with NGLI (Next Generation Leadership Initiative). That’s pastors of the United Church of Christ tradition — most of them are in their mid-30s. Over five days together. An impressive bunch.

One, is the importance of creating hearth. I like to say “hearthing.” It’s creating a potent home space. A center in a circle. That holds items important to us. That holds names of people who cheer for us, and that we care about. A hearth that encourages our presence together. And our belonging. And our becoming.

The photo on the left was last week’s version. I love it that it was simple. Mostly created by the group when we started together. And so, so enlivened by short stories about the people and the items.

Hearthed.

Two, is this notion of “little things that are big things.” It’s a theme that my colleague Travis and I emphasized a lot with our cohort, and with the full program of four cohorts in a final harvest. Little things like friendship. Like sharing stories. Like asking questions together. Like learning Circle together. Like learning Open Space together. Yes, that are big things.

The photo on the right collages some of that from last week. I love the appreciations. I love the willingness to share and notice together in a couple rounds of people in groups of four, knee to knee, World Cafe style. It’s so often a connection (about little things) that creates courage and compassion together (big things).

So, yes. Glad to be with others in the spirit of learning and bringing ourselves alive together. In the spirit of going well together in groups. It is at the heart of facilitation that I so love. It’s at the heart of learnings about facilitation that I so love to grow with others.

PS: Glad to be writing again. Hello again to you reading and sharing.

My friend Charles gave me this Elizabeth Gilbert book in 2016. He and I have both been drawn to the invitation to create. To source.

Gilbert says, p 161 — “Let yourself fall in love with your creativity.”

Yup, I quite like that.

Gonna take a break from blog writing. This week. Maybe next week also.

Later this week I’m hosting pastors in a 5-day retreat. Gonna love some creativity there. Under the theme of team-building and community-engagement. I love the learning journey aspect of this group.

Later this week I’m hosting an online workshop — “Made Fresh”. Gonna love some creativity there also. Offering a few simple things that create immediate connection amongst a group of people.

I quite love that in both of these places the organizers had given me invitations to create whatever I wish. They too, look for big magic, a breath of life.

See you on the other side.