I have a few people that I’ve been in regular monthly calls with over a long chunk of time. They are’t “work” calls, though often we will talk about work stuff. They are friend calls — there is deep and lasting friendship that continues to grow. And wisdom. And insight. And joy.
One of those people for me is my Grandmother’s sister’s daughter. Kate is now in her early 80s. Sharp as a tack. Active as a leaner. Gracious. Kate is not someone that I’ve known or tracked before. I knew I tiny bit of her mother when I was young boy. But she approached me about a year ago after a funeral, offering to tell a few stories about my Dad, with whom she was close cousin growing up in Edmonton in the 1950s.
Kate and I have now had about 12 calls. Last night I found word for what we have been doing. “Clanning.” Or exploring Clan. I share my stories of work and life. She shares her’s — still a practicing psychotherapist. We both have interest and ability to seek patterns. We both are learning about family patterns together. Which feels important to understand.
Our calls aren’t planned, just as they aren’t with others with whom I have such monthly encounter. Rather, they are showing up together and being curious. Thing things I love. With some added oomph of family history and connection.
Yesterday when Kate and I began talking, past the perfunctory “How are you?”, we named what we so often do together, and, what we’ve done in our professional lives — “pay attention to what wakes you up, and take that to work.” The story. The movie. The politic. The weather. The sorrow. The tragedy. The birth. The laughter. The love. The marriage. The reunion. The cake. The dream. The wicked question.
I appreciated that. Showing up curious. Flawed. Enlightened. Weaving things together. Clanned. I suppose most of us carry some hunger to understand who we are in the context of what and who we come from. Patterns. Sure glad for this with my cousin Kate.
