#thecircleway • Tenneson Woolf

February 28, 2019

The Simple Narrative — The Basics Are The Same

I am grateful for the conversation that I had with two colleagues yesterday. We know each other initially from some work between 2010 and 2013. We continue to know each other, because there is an irrepressible friendship and colleagueship that comes from work that moves both mind and spirit.

Yesterday’s conversation was about imagining a couple of gatherings that we will likely offer this October. We were each sharing stories of our current learning that will help to shape that work.

“The basics are the same.
What this work does is cultivate presence.
In ourselves.
And in who we are together.
There is great need for high quality speaking,
listening,
observing more than is the rational,
and consciousness.
There is great need to interrupt the patterns of rushing,
and of political maneuvering.
There is great need to relearn to seek the essence,
and to trust that to nourish us,
all of us.”

I am grateful for colleagues who become life-long friends, in whom we animate more of the mystery within which we all live, and more of the sense-making that guides both the long arc, and, the trust in just the next few steps.

February 20, 2019

Being Circly (In a Car)

Meet Bessie. That’s her above (I’ve always thought of her as feminine). Beauty, right. She’s a 1999 Honda Accord, now with 231,ooo miles on her, all of them with me and family. I’m seriously grateful for a car that lasts (and knocking on wood now). My favorite line with my kids (who are a wee bit more oriented to replacing this car) is, “She comes from another century (and for that matter, “another millennium,” spoken with pride).” That, and, “Be good to Bessie and she will be good to you.”

I like road trips. I’ve been able to take many in my time. And many in Bessie. Pack the sandwiches. Some fruit. Snacks. Sunflower seeds. Water. Some Dr. Pepper. Ready go. It all reminds me of summer camping with my Grandparents when I was a young boy in Canada.

I like road trips for the open road, even when I’m solo. Lots of time to think out loud and be taken by landscapes. I like road trips with people. The car is a great container for some slow wandering together.

My most recent road trip was returning from California to Utah on Monday, two days ago. It was a full drive that turned out to be 12 hours, including one stop for food, traffic congestion, and a few snowy patches.

This most recent trip was with my sons, Isaac and Elijah. Isaac is 21. I love the way that he is growing further in his adult life. I see it in the way he creates shared space in the car. He asks about what to do — listen to a podcast, watch a movie (me listening), or just resting (him, not me as driver). He shares the driving also. Elijah is 13. He’s rather device-centered. Though it frustrates me to lose him too quickly to his downloaded programs on his phone, I would have totally done the same thing when I was his age if I had the technology.

I like to get circly with my sons on road trips. It’s not super serious. There are no bells. There is no visible center. There is not spoken out loud version of host or guardian. There is no reminder of agreements. It isn’t the place for it. But, I want to affirm that it is plenty circly. I love it. It’s a moment that I most look forward to.

It sounds a bit like this, as we drive:

“So, let’s each name three thing that we most appreciated about being in California with Gma and Gpa this time.” Sometimes I start. Usually, I wait for them. There is the slightest guiding that feels important — I make sure (and so do my sons) that we each speak. It sounds like, “How about you Elijah — what were your favorites.”

That’s the easy round. I want a bit more. And, truth be told, every bit of the circle components wheel are in play in my mind. I’m not really thinking about the specifics. There is definite circle intention going on.

“So, do you notice anything different in Gma and Gpa this time?” This question requires just a bit more thinking and noticing. I suppose that is mostly the point for me — I’m rather curious about what they are noticing (and in my inner world, reflecting a bit on what their noticing reveals — that sounds way more psychological than it sounds).

Again, without bells, center, etc., all of that is in play for me. It sounds different, as it should for this environment. “Hmm…, that’s interesting,” I’ll say. I’ll then speak honestly some of what I noticed. Into a center that I see, but haven’t named.

All of this lasts maybe 15 miles worth of driving. Sometimes 30. Not much in the 700 miles total from that day. Yet, it’s a super significant point of the trip for me. I want the shared attentiveness together. I want the shared thoughtful speaking together. As a Dad. And as a human interested in noticing things together.

Amanda Fenton and I just completed yesterday hosting another round of online classes for The Circle Way. Delightful people and participants. In the end, I often feel that in the space of four 2-hour Zoom based calls, we’ve created some noticeable connection. I often feel like what I most want for people is to “grok” more of circle and being circly. Yes to the formal teaching environments and culture building that is circle-based. Yes to the deliberateness of developing shared language and practice. That all really matters and I’m glad to be involved in a few places doing that.

But I’ve got to say, I love the moments of just simple being circly. It’s a bit sneaky, I suppose. But, let’s call it what it also is — it’s natural to listen to each others perspectives. It’s natural to learn from each other. With my sons, I don’t think of it as hiding anything. There is definitely no malice in being circly. I do think of the circly that I do with them as being a wise translator, and a wise bridge-builder, to bring them and us into a momentary circly space with one another. The experience (the circle) then does the rest. I’m guessing that these little reflective moments will come back to them later in life. I hope that they to grow instincts and practice to be circly.

Sometimes all you have is a question, “So…, what did you notice this time?” that gets us rounding. Sometimes, all you have is a car and few sandwiches. And I think all of the time, as it is with Bessie, “you be good to circle and circle will be good to you.”

Being circly.

February 13, 2019

High Heat

Heat. High heat.

Heat can be painful. Nobody likes to be burned by the kitchen stove, or the spattering from the fry pan. Heat can also grow things. Like the sun heat that brings seeds forth from spring ground, and delights us with a patch of radishes later in the summer.

In the online class of The Circle Way, it’s my co-convener and friend Amanda Fenton that shared, “The higher the heat of the meeting (or topic, or issue), the more circle components that are needed.”

I always love this orientation. Amanda is one who lives circle as much as anyone that I know. And she’s naming a difference, both in types of environment (everything from a casual exploration in which everyone knows they get a chance to speak, to conflict laden historical issues in which you’re not sure anyone will speak, nor if there will be anything more than tensions lobbed at individuals), and in skills of the people (from those who resist methodology to those that know circle in their bones, and are ready to sit for hours).

Circle is a container. Or as one recent participant in the same online class shared, a nest. I often find myself saying that circle is, on the one hand, a methodology (a convening tool, an important skill), and on the other hand, a way of being (an irrepressible commitment to a form that knits and makes connection visible).

“Heat,” I would add, is not a failure, as if you / we have done something wrong. Heat, rather, is inevitable. Because we live in times in which we are perhaps defined not by the difficulty that we avoid, but rather, by the ability we have to learn with integrity, together, in any of the heat that comes with living in these transforming times.

Heat comes from conflict. Or tension. Or disagreement. Or hurt feelings. Or intensity. Or deadlines. Or complexity. Ability to be skillful in the heat grows with application of circle. It’s the components that Amanda and I speak to in the class. For example, having principles in place that remind us to rely on wholeness (funny, my auto correct function in this editor just changed “rely” to “relay” — relay wholeness ain’t bad either). Or it’s having practices in place that remind us to listen with attention, because, such a practice is lifelong and for all of us. Or, it’s other components from the comments wheel, that are long-tested and lived as ways that help with the heat.

I’m glad for these components that give me courage, or sometimes, less fear. I’m also glad for 20 years worth of learning circle that have helped me to be in many heated places, with some inclination of what might help us not just reduce fear, but welcome the unique gift of heat.

January 29, 2019

Yearning

Today begins a new series I’m co-hosting, of online classes on The Circle Way. Two new groups of 14 participants. One in the morning (Pacific Time). One in the afternoon (Pacific Time). This means that today starts the fifth and sixth groups that Amanda Fenton and I have taught / hosted / offered in this format, beginning in 2018.

Each class runs two hours. Each class meets weekly, and runs four times. They are fun. In part because they are a convening. Yes, some teaching. Yes, some communing. Yes, some encountering each other. And because they are online, using Zoom and Basecamp, the group is deliciously geographically spread. This time around, it’s Canada, Denmark, USA, Bermuda, Netherlands, and France.

Getting in the room is an important step today. It’s true of face-to-face gatherings, isn’t it. The first step. Helping to remove some of the hesitations, nervousness, and barriers. It’s even more true of virtual gatherings (which, thanks to Zoom, is actually a form of face-to-face). Getting started. Feeling the connection of the group. Leaning in to what is possible in the learning and in our journey together. Seeing who is in for the ride together.

So, how do you do that?

I’m excited that the first layer of check-in with this group will be a question about yearning. What is some of the yearning that brings you to this online class together?

Expressions of yearning are one of the thickest ways that I know to help people arrive and begin to feel the connection of the group. We could choose other questions. For example, even the basics of your name and your position. Those also create an awareness with one another. There is just less skin in the game for that. It’s pretty standard and expected stuff.

When asked what you yearn for, that requires digging a bit deeper. It requires some searching of what matters to you. It requires some vulnerability. It requires some disclosure. It’s longing. All of these, are added peeks into who we are. Sometimes, so that we can see ourselves. Sometimes so that we can see each other. Sometimes so that we can see the sharedness found in the expressions that we each speak. It’s not a short cut, but yearning does create some accelerated weave of the group.

Yearning can be a big circle, easily five minutes per person, or longer. Today won’t be that. It will be more of the one minute version, which is surprisingly a lot. Enough to bring the energy that can carry us through the four weeks together.

Beginnings matter. That’s what my teachers have often told me. Beginnings are particularly fulfilling, I find, when there is deliberateness in building connective tissue among us. Yearning — well, that’s just one of the great ways in. Simple question that invites thoughtful attention and contribution to the whole.

Here we go.