Leaning into Yes

October 2018

This weekend Daniel and I went to the University of Iowa City Hospital where surgeons removed his prostate and the cancer within. Everything was provided: medical professionals, sterile equipment, pain killers, heat and water, food, and a truly caring staff. As Daniel’s advocate I was glad to provide the rest: love, attention, caresses, water refills, songs, encouragement, a second set of ears, and a ride home. 

This was our first foray into this realm of hospital care, the first overnight stay, the first surgery. Surely we had all that we needed, so there was no need to reach out to friends. Our daughters and his brothers were keeping in touch, and anyway isn’t this kind of surgery supposed to be private, with all of its indignities and risks? Why burden anyone else with even imagining the details, when there was nothing they could do to change anything?

And yet, I try to practice noticing and resisting that cult of privacy, that notion that independence is our goal. It creates our fear of being seen in vulnerability, times of sadness, brokenness, loss, darkness.  How many times have we learned of a friends’ suffering too late and wished we could have reached out in some small way?  So as the surgery began I sent off some texts to friends asking for thoughts and prayers, not because we needed anything (or so I believed), but just out of love for the collective us that wants to help.

Oh, how grateful I am for what came next! 

You know about it: those caring replies, those phone calls, those offers for help, and how powerfully these simple gestures spoke to us of the love all around. I knew about it too, for when I was young my mom had told me about the power of such things. She said that the cards she received in the mail after my 5 year old brother died helped her keep living. Her teaching through this story has guided me, and though surely I have missed more opportunities to tend community in this way than I’ve caught, I keep trying to serve that truth. 

Upon learning of our presence there, our Iowa City friends offered to come sing for Daniel, to bring healing massage, and to deliver nutritious food (one thing lacking in that hospital). Thank goodness for their gentle insistence, for I was not as able as I would have expected to give a clear ‘yes and thank you’ to their offers. We were doing ok, weren’t we? Why drive all the way across town to sing for 15 minutes? Why come at 10pm to give healing massage to Daniel? Really? We’ve only known you for a year or two, and here you are acting like family…And we live so far away, how would we ever have a chance to repay the kindness…

Yes, friends, these thoughts crossed my mind. I watched them all, surprised, curious, and finally suspicious of myself. 

From back home in Decorah Janet offered to organize friends to deliver meals to our home for a few weeks, and I saw it all rise up in me: ‘Oh, I can cook!’ ‘We’ll be fine.’ ‘This isn’t THAT big of a deal. Just a little surgery. It’s not cancer or anything’ (whoops) ‘How can I broach this idea with Daniel? Why even try?’ 

I watched this familiar storyline unfold between us, watched myself back away from something that sounded so good. I recalled my own past experiences of perplexity and frustration when I’ve been on Janet’s side of the story, offering some gift of community-tending to one who refuses it—‘No, no, I’ll be fine, thanks anyway, it’s not that bad.’ I’ve felt the hurt of that refusal, the lost opportunity to be our best for each other. I’ve wished that this person would think of themselves as part of us,  give us a chance to strengthen our muscle of giving and connection,  say Yes. 

So... I said ‘maybe’ to Janet, told her I’d get back to her the next day. And overnight I found a conditional ‘yes’— only meals for one week, for heaven’s sake, and maybe don’t send the inquiry out to our big list serve! I found this ‘yes’ from within my commitment to serve community: ‘yes’ for the learning, ‘yes’ out of principle. I believed that I was submitting myself for the good of the whole, even though we didn’t really need it…

What a surprise it all is, this learning. Because what came back was far beyond some intellectual ideal. 

The first surprise was the pleasure of the release of the tension of ‘no.’ Once I said ‘yes’ I saw myself leaning into the mystery of whatever was next. Rather than close a door, I felt love released to flow freely toward us, felt even a vague awareness of whatever was beginning to unfold because of Yes. Something was brewing. Perhaps I felt the energy of some email Janet was composing, some menu that Courtney was dreaming up…

When we returned to our home there sat on the counter and in the fridge not one but two nourishing soups and other dishes, delivered by 2 beloved neighbors the Brinks and John Snyder, along with sweet notes. Next to those, a container of chocolate-covered walnuts from our neighbor of 38 years Ted who we don't see nearly enough, with a 6-word message scribbled in pencil on the store label. All of it so simple, so perfect, so everything-that-matters. What a homecoming. We were alone in the house and surrounded by love. 

And I knew right then, in a way I had not known when I reached beyond my self-conscious ‘no’ and instead gave a ‘yes’ out of principle, how much more I had to learn about community. I remembered, in a way I must have forgotten or perhaps never known, that it’s not about whether you’re capable of cooking or not, of singing a song for your loved one or not, or anything else. It’s truly about the gift of opening to receiving in humility (even when some of us have to trick ourselves into it!) 

The food, the songs, the kind words, and the offers of help are the way we humans have of manifesting our caring. They are our prayers made tangible as gifts, and their nourishment is holy. I looked upon those containers of food, prepared or gathered by loving hands and delivered to our door, and I remembered it all, this ancient wisdom that had been waiting to be renewed. My soul, fed. 

As we age, as our wounded earth cries out, as our old systems of civilization crumble, we will have many chances to renew and strengthen of the web of community caring. I pray for the grace and wisdom to play any of the parts when my turn arises—the giving, the receiving, the teaching, the learning. I pray for humility, for the softness to learn beyond what I thought I already knew. 

Thank you, dear community. 

How to Build a Village Using What's Already There

Liz Rog, Decorah Iowa 2018

We already know how to be independent, needing nothing from anyone, paying for whatever we want or need using hard-earned money that we spend our lives to get. For we were born into this society and taught that  this is what was normal and right.

But we’re lonely, depressed, and anxious, and our communities are falling apart, and people are shooting each other, so we’re ready to try something new. How do we begin to dismantle the illusion of independence and to shine the light on all that we have to offer to each other, all that we need from each other, all the things that we can only do if we are together? 

Here's one way: start a nonhierarchical community networking group like we did. It’s so simple and accessible, so locally-flavored and free, that at first it’s almost hard to believe. But we’ve been doing it for 25 years and I can tell you that it is solid, good, and true. And it turns out that there are a lot of these kinds of groups around the world, calling themselves ‘Freeskools.’ Though we are not connected to Freeskools nor their political philosophies, it’s good to know that, as always, good ideas are sprouting up in many places, each with their own local flavor. 

We call our group Pleasant Valley (PV), after a now-defunct neighborhood schoolhouse that also served as a community center until the 1950s. We don’t have a building but we just call everywhere our community center.  I’ll tell you what PV people do for each other, and it might seem impossible to imagine this happening where you live. But I promise you, I live among human beings who are made of the same stuff as yours where you live: longings, hurts, passions, insecurities, gifts. Wherever we live, whoever we are and whatever life has dealt us, it is our birthright to connect, serve, and be cared for. 

Our mission statement reads: 

“Pleasant Valley is an intergenerational gathering of people who spend  time learning together in the spirit of a small village: sharing interests, resources, energy, and the gentle passing of time. We look to show the next generation a model for community involvement, intentional living, and homemade happiness.”

I’ll show you the bones of our group, and then I’ll share five simple steps for starting such a thing right where you live. If reading about what we do seems too good to be true, remember: we’ve been at it for 25 years and at the beginning it looked nothing like this at all. Also remember: times are different now. Our need to connect with each other is clearer and deeper than ever before, and we who realize the urgency are many. Here’s a shovel. Join the crew. 

A Look at Our Group

We are comprised of about 100 households, all local within about a 30 mile radius of our town. We are of all ages, partnered and single, parents and not. We are lucky to have a number of elders among us, as well as young adults, teens, and everything in between. We have an email list-serve that is very active, because what people post there is so danged intriguing and inviting. We gather in real-time for potlucks, celebrations, camps, walks, and living room conversations about topics that interest us. Always, just the right people show up: the ones who saw the invitation posted to the group and wanted to come.  Always, we’re amazed by the simple power of being together. Nobody had to get certified, nobody gets graded, and nobody can’t afford it because there’s no money needed. 

In regular life it can sometimes be hard to ask even your best friends for help, or to invite them to join you for an event, because you might not want to put them on the spot or to risk rejection. The listserve (or whatever group messaging platform is used) is magic because it casts out a broad invitation or request, putting no one on the spot. In this way we can know that those who do step up were personally compelled to do so. 

Though our connections are initiated by the internet, they are all about facilitating local in-person connections. In this way it is quite different from many of the online engagements that pull us into relationships around the world. Of course those can be important too, but we’re realizing how important it is to nurture friendship among people right where we live; to share time, space, food. To meet eyes in real time. 

What do people post on the listserv? 

1. Needs

for stuff: borrowing a bike for a visiting nephew…crutches for a broken leg…an axe…a candy thermometer….

for services: rides…house sitting…pet care….

for help: to trap a squirrel stuck in the basement…to move a heavy couch…to bring meals, childcare, companionship, or songs to a someone who is ill or in some time of transition….

When I was responsible for desserts at my dad’s funeral 3 hours away from home, I asked my group if anyone would be willing to make something that I could bring up. I got an overwhelming response and filled my car with it all, some from folks I still barely knew. For the rest of my life I will be paying back my community for the love I knew through those cookies and bars.  

Seeking and Sharing Resources. (And when useful lists are co-created through our listserv, we compile them and someone puts them on our member-only website for future reference.)

help in finding local connections: to a plumber…a tailor…a childcare provider…an AlAnon group…a good place to find mushrooms in the woods….

ideas for how to do stuff: when to start seeds…how to trap a squirrel….

Offers/Gifts

giving away of things: size 7 children’s boots…queen sized bed…leaf mulch…extra tomatoes….

It’s so fun to play in the gift economy! As you can imagine, this is a very active aspect of the group, and members saying ‘yes’ to an offered item are asked to ‘reply all’ so the rest of the eager crowd can know it’s nabbed up already! Then, people find their way to each other’s homes to pick up their item, and in this way new friendships can begin. And the next time any of us sees the lucky recipient of the item that we too had wanted (or not), we can say ‘you lucky dog!’ and ask what the heck they’re going to do with that box of quilting magazines….

giving of services: people getting certified in some practice who are looking to put in hours for their practicum and are looking for willing ‘clients’…elders willing to read to children on a weekly basis….

Invitations 

to small gatherings at homes or public places, either just to hang out, or to make something together, or to talk about something: making weighted blankets to help people sleep better…making crackers…talking about end-of-life issues…a disco dance party in a living room…to share a home-cooked meal that’s ready tonight, space for 3 at the table….

We also gather monthly for what we call a ‘Gather-All,’ a potluck at some home or public space. This is a laid-back chance to meet or reconnect with each other. 

to seasonal celebrations: Halloween..Valentine’s Day…May Day….

Ours are non-commercial, simple, mostly oriented toward children and those who love to be with them. 

to other cool ideas that occur to people: barter fair, food swap, all-ages show-and-tell day, a spontaneous trip to the river to see the migrating pelicans….

These are just a few of the infinite ideas that are flying around the world but in order to land anywhere need people who will gather. Because we have this landing place, we dare notice the ideas and imagine that that they could happen here. 

2. Announcements  

of new members: they are asked to submit a photo of themselves so that we can recognize them when we next see them somewhere, and also 3-5 sentences about themselves so we know what they’re interested in and up to and where we might run into them about town. We want to know who’s out there on our list-serve, and doing this is a sort of initiation rite for new members that helps them to know that they are not invisible, that who they are matters to us. 

about projects or businesses that our members are involved with: teens looking for odd jobs…new business owners wanting us to know what they’re dreaming and offering, because, if we know about it then we can consider supporting them. We might have been waiting forEVER for a local source for squirrel bait—now it’s here!  We do not have a rule saying that folks can’t tell us about the way they are making a living and invite us to help support them. This is all about helping each other’s lives to be good. 

about goings-on in the wider community.  A meeting at the library on depression and anxiety, which had been a recent topic on the list-serve…a community open gym at the high school…a county-wide forum to support local entrepreneurs….

When we notice an event that we think others in the group might want to know about, we send it along. We trust each other to not overdo it. 

3. Ideas

about books, podcasts, films we’re loving: often these posts hit a tender, alive spot and turn into long threads wherein we learn much about each other’s life experiences, and the conversation continues in both informal and random places around the community as well as in formally organized gatherings to explore further. Recently this occurred with the book Lost Connections by Johann Hari. 

related to real needs felt: after a death in their family, someone posted a question about why we do death the way we do, and that lead to a many-years’ group exploration into the history and practices at times of death. Another time, someone posted that they wanted to learn more about ritual for life transitions, which caused conversations both online and in-person that have slowly led to more ritual in many lives. 

As you can see, anything goes. Well, not exactly: our group does emphasize a desire to step away from mass consumer culture. There’s so much beautiful life to be lived together outside of that shopping mall of the mind. 

How to Help This Happen Where You Live 

I am certain that such a group can begin in any community. It can be any size and grow at any rate, slow or fast. The thing is, to begin. Here are five steps you could take. 

Gather and Talk. Invite two or three people to gather to converse about this idea, or gather with folks from a group you’re already part of: a house of worship, a neighborhood, a school group, a club.  Invite them to join an experimental internet-based format for building local connections. Make sure it’s a format that they actually regularly look at. Explain that there is no obligation, no judging, no guilt! (How badly do we need places like that?) Different people will have different levels of participation that change over time depending on their life circumstances. What and how much the group does will evolve according to real needs, all in their own time. It’s truly all good. 

Invite and Ask. Then, use yourself as the seed to plant the concept in the others’ minds. Use the group to make invitations to easy and fun things: to come for tea, to go out for a beer. When only one person can make it, call that perfect and amazing. Use the group to tell people about a little-known event that you noticed is coming up. Use the group to say that tonight is a full moon and you’ll be watching it from the bridge. And here’s the bravest thing: use it to help people begin to rediscover the reality and beauty of interdependence. Begin by asking for simple things that you’re pretty sure someone can help with: to borrow a hammer, to borrow some eggs. Starting there, you might just find your group a few years down the road group-sourcing some way bigger needs, like a months’ worth of childcare for someone whose husband just went in to treatment. Because We. Are. Amazing. And we love to serve each other, if only the walls can come down so we can see into each other’s lives. 

Notice and Remember. Once you’re ready, start inventorying your own interests and curiosities. What had you forgotten that you loved to do because it seemed that no one cared? You loved to make kites and fly them? You had wanted to learn to knit? You once were part a book group, back in another city? You’ve caught an idea from a book, radio, or screen and you wish that happened where you live? Send out an offer or an inquiry to your group. By now your friends who initially joined might have invited a friend or two more, and there might just be someone among them all who has been waiting a long time to teach someone to knit. There might just be someone who wanted to have a place to offer their gift without having to organize a formal class, take registrations, figure out a fee and a venue and insurance and taxes and all of the other requirements that can prevent so much sharing of skills. This is grassroots learning and sharing, the way it can always be if only we give ourselves permission and a community to do it with. 

Be Simple and Slow. At some point you might choose a name for your group, and you might make a mission statement, but don’t rush it.  Just begin by being together, and if those other things need to happen you’ll know because you’ll want to do them. Don’t become a non-profit or buy insurance or make rules. Keep it simple, deal with issues directly if they come up. Don’t call anything a failure; it’s all just for learning what works and doesn’t. Create a culture of YES: yes that was hard and we learned from it, yes to that crazy-seeming idea, yes let’s try something else, yes people are welcome even if they don’t know what they have to offer. to And though you are the one taking the first steps, keep in mind that unless you actively encourage the empowerment of each person, you could end up being seen as the leader in a way you’d never intended. Keep your ear out for things to suggest that others might offer or organize, to help encourage those less accustomed to asking, offering, inviting. ‘You need a ride to Minneapolis? How about posting it to our group?’ 

Gather and Play. Every once in a while, make an invitation that entices the whole group to gather. The best idea is often a meal together in a home or park. This might be the first time that newcomers who had so far just been watching the listserv dare step into real-time with the rest. Introduce everyone to each other. Make sure everyone is seen and welcomed and identified. Maybe this is a monthly gathering, rotating locations and hosts. Encourage the use of home-spaces, because seeing each others’ homes helps us know each other. It’s truly ok if they’re not fancy or clean, and you know it. Model that knowing by inviting others into your home, letting it be not-perfect. 

*******

That’s all. What it becomes is what You are, there where You live together. It arises from Your collective needs and dreams and gifts. You have made a container that’s just the right size and shape for what You are now, and it will organically expand to hold whatever is borne next of Your people, Your place. Once You make the container, anything can happen. 

Think of a few people you can imagine asking. Make a little pool together, and trust each other to take a dip now and then. Then start opening your collective arms a little wider, and a little wider, to hold more people, ideas, dreams, needs. 

We need something to happen. Make the vessel that can hold the many possibilities of You All. You have what it takes. You need what it gives. We need it, every one of us. 

May our neighborhoods, towns, cities, and country be a-buzz, abundant, pollinating our need and our passion for belonging. 

The Art of Opening the Circle

The Art of Opening the Circle 

(the Food Can Wait a Bit) 

Once you’ve attended a gathering that begins with an opening circle that’s held by someone who knows its subtle and joyous power, you’ll never again be satisfied to just begin the meal, just get down to business, just start having fun. You’ll long for the moment of all-together focus that an opening circle brings, and you just may find that you’re the one who has to make it happen. Whether it’s a neighborhood potluck, a staff holiday party, a congregational meeting, or a family gathering, coming together creates a perfect opportunity to shine a light on our wholeness right there in that moment. Make use of this chance to pause together and create connection right here, right now. Opening the circle in an intentional way—be it playful, tender, reverent, brief, luxurious—creates the container of ‘we’ that ripples out for the rest of the gathering and well beyond. 

From what I’ve learned so far, the essential pieces seem to be: 

• Calling people to the circle

• Greeting each other

• Offering gratitudes

• (Perhaps some other little piece)

• Announcements

• Closing 

You need at least one person who will gladly hold the space.The host of the event might like to invite someone else to do this, for they might have been cleaning, cooking or taking care of children all day, or they might not like speaking in front of groups. Whomever it is, ideally this person will have thought about the pieces ahead of time, even if only in the bathroom 5 minutes ago because you just remembered at the last minute to ask them. This person will be comfortable—or at least willing to keep stepping toward comfort—with their own voice, and they will also know that the circle is fed by the sounds of many voices, so they will invite others to be heard. They might have given the heads-up others in advance, asking them to offer a poem, song, trick, or prayer. They will have been watching for special offerings or people to thank, special connections to point out to the whole group. They will want to set aside self- consciousness and step into their role as a servant of the whole. They will speak loudly and slowly enough so that they can be heard. 

Yet, I have led many opening circles even though I felt nervous that people thought I was taking too long; that I was speaking too fast; that I would forget this or forget that. I have looked at the floor the whole time, have gone off to cry with regrets afterwards. Nonetheless, I’m still here, alive, loved for my vulnerabilities as much as for my skills. I couldn’t have learned but by those mistakes. So maybe it could be you, tender human, who stumbles in and gives it a try for the team, who learns out loud. 

Someday soon I think that it will once again be felt so natural to open gatherings in skillful, connective, ritualized ways that anyone hosting an event will either plan on holding the circle themselves or will ask someone else to. But at this moment it can sometimes be awkward: perhaps a host does not think of it, but one of their guests does. Does the guest offer their services? And if a guest is deputized by the host, does the community accept that, or do some start making stories about how this leader is always insisting on taking the stage? On the other hand, does the community start to think that it is always the job of that one leader to hold space, so that unless that leader is there nothing happens? It’s a tender spot. 

When I’ve been asked to lead a circle or some songs at someone else’s gathering, I’ve found that it helps ease the transition if the host publicly invites me into the leadership role, saying to the whole group ‘I’ve asked Liz to....’ This can really help me to let go of the old story that someone might be thinking I always insist on making things happen my way. Ah, this is community! 

Calling People to the Circle. This might seem obvious and not worthy of mention, but if you’ve ever tried to herd 10 or 100 happily chatting people into a central space and get them to start listening, you know that it can take some skill—especially if you’re hoping to do it in a more inviting, pleasant way than your 7th grade teacher might have. One of the best ways is to use Call-and-Reponse song or chant, because it immediately engages everyone’s voice and draws them toward the caller. You can make up something simple on the spot using 2 or 3 words and just as few notes, and ask one friend to help you get it started by repeating what you do: ’Hello my friends!” ‘Hello My Friends!” “Come to the circle!” ‘Come to the Circle!” Some people call in the circle using call-and-response clapping, and though it works because the clapping cuts through the din, for just that same reason it can sometimes feel a little harsh. Other ideas: start singing a song that you know most people know, or invite someone who likes to drum to use their drumming in a calling way. Or, ask the children to run around and tap people on the arm. Use who you’ve got in a creative way. 

Form the circle so that ideally everyone can see everyone else. This is how we begin to live as though everyone mattered. A sloppy circle with some people standing in the middle unaware that folks are behind them, or with some standing around the corner invisible, makes the whole rest of the opening circle harder to weave. Even if you can’t have a perfectly round circle where everyone can see each other, you can have an intentional circle that feels like all are in. If there are more than 30-50 people, depending on how sound carries in the space, you might need to ask people to get much closer to each other, or to make a double concentric circle, or a more random-looking clumpy circle. And though they might be having a great time playing nearby, bring the children into this circle too! Later on they will surely find their way back to play, and in the meantime you’ve given them a chance to be seen as part of the whole. If you’re outside, the leader needs a big voice for a big circle. If you’re inside and sitting in an auditorium or at tables in rows, it’s trickier but you can still pull off a feeling of circle-ness by inviting people to turn and greet those in the circle right around them. The point is, put intention into the form. Make a place for everyone. 

Standing is better than sitting. Of course you’ll make a way for those who need to sit—perhaps the best way to do this is to ask a teen or young adult if they would offer that to the elders—but overall the energy is bigger if people are standing. 

How long will this circle last? If there is food waiting to be eaten, ideally it’s covered so that people who love their food hot don’t feel stressed. But even then, 5-10 minutes is about as much as people can handle. Find a few ideas to put into the general framework, and then go for it. If after the circle you reflect that it went to long, you’ll know that for next time. If there isn’t food waiting, then you can have a much more luxurious circle, maybe 30 minutes or more if you’re including a game. 

Greeting each other. This is the perfect moment, early on in the circle, to bring people fully in by enabling each to use their own voice as part of the whole. Sometimes you are gathering a group where you think most people know each other and you might therefore think that greeting is unnecessary. Why not take this opportunity to share the peace, look in the eyes of friends old and new with no other purpose than welcome? This might also be a good opportunity to engage bodies through moving, hand-shaking, clapping, or dancing, which helps even more to create a stepping-in. Depending on the size of the group, you might use this moment of arrival to invite folks to: 

• greet the 2 people to either side of them with a handshake (naturally some will hug, but in most groups I think it would be too pushy for the leader to suggest that). Expect a sudden cacophony of sound and energy, and know that you’ll need to call them back in after 2-4 minutes (but don’t use your watch,use your heart). If you wait until the sound has died down, you might have waited too long.

• find someone new to meet from anywhere in the circle, which will cause people to walk around. When you re-form the circle and behold those smiling faces, you might see a sparkling web.

• while the whole group watches, each person says their name along with some quick movement of their body that the whole group then imitates as they repeat the person’s name together.

• same as above, but also when the person is announcing their name they use voice inflections that can be copied. Some might do something that could be called ‘singing,’ and others might just tone their name simply. Others might clap their name to a rhythm. All ways are good ways.

• say your name and then, rather than telling something about yourself which is a common way of introduction but is uncomfortable for some people, say the name of one person in the circle that you’re connected to, and why. ‘I am connected to Sandy because she was my mom’s art teacher in Minnesota!’ ‘I am connected to Kaj because he is my next-door neighbor.” ‘I am connected to Kristin because last week at the co-op she helped me pick up my groceries after my bag ripped open.” Start it off yourself to set an example of simplicity or brevity, as you wish. Ideally by the end of the circle everyone would be named as a connection, but that doesn’t always happen and it seems to be ok because it’s so very delightful to hear the various random connections that each person feels part of the Big Story. Depending on the rest of your plan, this activity could get too long if you have more than 20 people.

• In my community we tend to see many generations together at events, and I love to shine a light on that. I ask who the youngest person is, and we give a cheer for that person. I ask who the oldest is and we cheer for them. I want to to celebrate the people in the middle, and one way to do that is to do some quick group math to find the median between the oldest and youngest, and see who’s closest to that age. Linden is 2, David is 76, 2+76=78, 78 divided by 2 is 39. Both hands in the sky if you’re 39! A hoot and a holler for them!

• Another way to celebrate the many ages that we are is to ask who’s in under 10 and cheer for them, who’s 10-19 and cheer for them, who’s in their 20s and another big cheer! And all the way up to the oldest decade. If there’s no one in their 70s or 80s I still name the decade and we notice together how we’re missing those people, and I know that that acts as a little prayer calling them to us the next time.

• If it doesn’t make sense to do introductions of each person, either because you are a group that knows each other well or because the group is too large (in which case you probably invited people to just meet their neighbors), still don’t miss the opportunity to celebrate as a group any special guests. Maybe someone’s grandparents are visiting, or there’s someone from another country, or whomever it may be. If you as the leader know who those people are, you might just introduce them yourself. But better yet, open the floor for people to introduce their own special guest. The more voices the better. 

• a note on sharing names and including last names. Sometimes it seems that introducing by name would be unnecessary, since so many of the people already know each other. Yet it is often the case that there are at least a few new people to any circle (and isn’t that what we’re hoping for in an open circle?) which makes name sharing worth the time. And, why not share first as well as last names? If we’re really planning to keep track of each other, aka build community, then it matters which John you are, which Kristin you are. 

Offering gratitudes and blessings...to the host/s, to the children who made the muffins, to the person who shoveled the walk, to the ancestors, to the Creator, to the soil and rain and seed... to much and many! This could take the shape of celebration and include hooting and clapping, and/or it could be more contemplative, like a prayer. The point isn’t to thank everything possible —for then we would literally be there forever—but rather to point our gratitude in a number of directions, near and far, so that we carry an attitude of gratitude to the whole gathering. This might be led by one who delights in offering prayer or in the group-sourcing gratitudes. If you open it up for anyone to add their gratitudes and you have set a precedent that anything goes, then you might learn about some really beautiful things that were hidden in people’s hearts. This is also a time when silence will feel natural and delicious, as we wait for another to speak their words. 

Other possible pieces, depending on the occasion: a playful group game; some short delightful skit or song that someone prepared in advance; a group song led by someone who can make it comfortable and easy for all; prayers, a poem or a reading; a demonstration of some skill that would intrigue and delight the group; the celebration of a milestone in someone’s life, whether or not it seems connected to the purpose of your gathering.. etc! Once you start looking, you will see that any group is rich with passions and skills to harvest and celebrate. There are people who know how to do stuff and never get the chance to share it: people who love writing limericks, who can do weird body tricks, who craft beautiful prayers from the seeds of the moment; who just moved or had a baby or returned from a trip. How about holding silence for a minute? Giving back rubs or hand rubs to each other? 

Announcements. Here’s the spot where the host can explain how the potluck line runs, where someone tells where the bathroom is, etc. Also you can ask for other announcements and then an instant audio-bulletin-board pops up where we can learn about a concert next week, the need for a ride somewhere, the give-away pile over in the corner, etc. Sometimes the group embraces this opportunity so enthusiastically that you have to watch out for too-muchness and give the ‘one last announcement’ warning! 

Closing 

This is probably brief, since the circle has already found its center. Tell the circle that you are about finish so that they stay present for this last little piece. Maybe it’s a cheer, or a singing dinner grace, or silence, or a prayer. Maybe you pass a kiss around the circle, each kissing the one to their left after the kiss comes to them. Maybe everyone puts a hand the center for a go-team cheer. Maybe the whole circle turns and faces the outside and on ‘3’ yells ‘thank you!’ However you do it, take it out with intention and joy. 

A Note to Holders of Space 

If you have your antenna up, you can almost always sense someone in the circle who seems to be wishing you’d shut up and sit down, who seems to think this is too touchy-feely, who needs to eat and get home and didn’t come for this other connect-y stuff. 

You might be right, and you might be wrong. They might be thinking about something entirely different. They might come up to you in a day or a year and tell you how much that circle meant to them. Or they might forever take issue with group gatherings that include such together- moments as these. 

Either way, why would you forsake offering something that you know to be important to the many? Here’s a chance to keep your senses open, and at the same time let go of the ego that needs to be liked by everyone. Here’s a chance to be bold and creative, and be willing to compromise, to listen to the group energy and call enough just-right when the moment hits. Here’s a chance to cooperate with the reality of your community in this moment, and also to push against the edge to introduce something a bit bigger. Here’s your chance to be coyote, making being together in this way so appealing and delightful that it’s irresistible. 

And here’s your chance to once again accept the fact that you’ve got more to learn, that you don’t always get it right, and that more chances are around the corner. 

Saving Soul Seeds

Saving Soul Seeds 
Liz Rog, Decorah IA October 2017

The Three Seeds
by Charles Eisenstein
Once upon a time, the tribe of humanity embarked upon a long journey called Separation. It was not a blunder as some – seeing its ravages upon the planet – might think. Nor was it a fall, nor an expression of some innate evil peculiar to the human species. It was a journey with a purpose: to experience the extremes of Separation, to develop the gifts that come in response to it, and to integrate all of that in a new age of Reunion.

But we knew at the outset that there was danger in this journey: that we might become lost in Separation and never come back. We might become so alienated from nature that we would destroy the very basis of life; we might become so separated from each other that our poor egos, left naked and terrified, would become incapable of rejoining the community of all being. In other words, we foresaw the crisis we face today.

That is why, thousands of years ago, we planted three seeds that would sprout at the time that our journey of Separation reached its extreme. Three seeds, three transmissions from the past to the future, three ways of preserving and transmitting the truth of the world, the self, and how to be human.

Imagine you were alive thirty thousand years ago, and had a vision of all that was to come: symbolic language, naming and labeling the world; agriculture, the domestication of the wild, dominion over other species and the land; the Machine, the mastery of natural forces; the forgetting of how beautiful and perfect the world is; the atomization of society; a world where humans fear even to drink of the streams and rivers, where we live among strangers and don't know the people next door, where we kill across the planet with the touch of a button, where the seas turn black and the air burns our lungs, where we are so broken that we dare not remember that it isn't supposed to be this way. Imagine you saw it all coming. How would you help people thirty thousand years thence? How would you send information, knowledge, aid over such a vast gulf of time? You see, this actually happened. That is how we came up with the three seeds.

The first seed was the wisdom lineages: lines of transmission going back thousands of years that have preserved and protected essential knowledge. From adept to disciple, in every part of the world, various wisdom traditions have passed down teachings in secret. Wisdom keepers, Sufis, Taoist wizards, Zen masters, mystics, gurus, and many others, hiding within each religion, kept the knowledge safe until the time when the world would be ready to reclaim it. That time is now, and they have done their job well. The time of secrets is over. Released too early, the knowledge was co-opted, abused, or usually just ignored. When we still had not covered the territory of Separation, when we still aspired
to widening our conquest of nature, when the story of humanity's Ascent was not yet complete, we weren't ready to hear about union, connectedness, interdependency, inter-being-ness. We thought the answer was more control, more technology, more logic, a better-engineered society of rational ethics, more control over matter, nature, and human nature. But now the old paradigms are failing, and human consciousness has reached a degree of receptivity that allows this seed to spread across the earth. It has been released, and it is growing inside of us en masse.

The second seed was the sacred stories: myths, legends, fairy tales, folklore, and the perennial themes that keep reappearing in various guises throughout history. They have always been with us, so that however far we have wandered into the Labyrinth of Separation, we have always had a lifeline, however tenuous

and tangled, to the truth. The stories nurture that tiny spark of memory within us that knows our origin and our destination. The ancients, knowing that the truth would be co-opted and distorted if left in explicit form, encoded it into stories. When we hear or read one of these stories, even if we cannot decode the symbolism, we are affected on an unconscious level. Myths and fairy tales represent a very sophisticated psychic technology. Each generation of storytellers, without consciously intending to, transmits the covert wisdom that it learned, unconsciously, from the stories told it.

The third seed was the indigenous tribes, the people who at some stage opted out of the journey of separation. Imagine that at the outset of the journey, the Council of Humanity gathered and certain members volunteered to retreat to remote locations and forgo separation, which meant refusing to enter into an adversarial, controlling relationship to nature, and therefore refusing the process that leads to the development of high technology. It also meant that when they were discovered by the humans who had gone deeply into Separation, they would meet with the most atrocious suffering.That was unavoidable.

These people of the third seed have nearly completed their mission today. Their mission was simply to survive long enough to provide living examples of how to be human. Each tribe carried a different piece, sometimes many pieces, of this knowledge. Many of them show us how to see and relate to the land, animals, and plants. Others show us how to work with dreams and the unseen. Some have preserved natural ways of raising children. Some show us how to communicate without words – tribes such as the Hazda and the Piraha communicate mostly in song. Some show us how to free ourselves from the mentality of linear time. All of them exemplify a way of being that we intuitively recognize and long for. They stir a memory in our hearts, and awaken our desire to return.

                                                *************

Our human family has been forgetting and fumbling for a long time now. So much has been lost and we are still losing. And yet, there is evidence all around that seeds of remembering were indeed saved, protected, and nurtured. Some are just daring to show themselves now, and some have been right in front of us all along, visible only to some. We catch glimpses through stories, songs, dances, and rituals...

Dear human cousin, what if you knew that you were born to carry some seed that that was needed right now or would be needed in the times to come? What if someone had whispered into your ear when you were an infant, and when you were a child, and when you were a teen, and when you were a young adult, so that you knew it without a doubt:

You belong to the universal soul.
You are a part of the universal whole.
You were sent here with a gift we have all been waiting for,
and we welcome now this sacred blessing we see shining from your core!
~Laurence Cole, paraphrasing Martin Prechtel

And if you were carrying a seed, how would you know? For many of us, it takes decades to identify the nature of our seeds. Sometimes they can never be named, sometimes we don’t want to name them, but still they are there, just as in need of protection as a seed that is flashy, nameable, or early-bloomed.

• If you know some feeling of aching longing, deep in your bones If your heart hurts when you behold beauty
• If your heart hurts when you behold pain
• If you can feel the beauty inside the pain and the pain inside the beauty If you sometimes cry
• If you sometimes gaze at the moon

...then you are surely carrying a sacred seed that is still alive and must be protected. For the sake of All, please dear human cousin you must carry your seed with tenderness and courage, warding off all that would harm it. If that is the only thing you do in your whole life—to keep your seed alive—it is enough and everything. The seed has its own wisdom, and will come into greening when it will, in this lifetime or the next, if only you keep it alive.

To keep our seeds alive, we first have to notice and resist the harm of our modern world—by patriarchy and the market economy, by separation, scarcity, and unkindness.

Many of us have had to put on armor to protect our seeds from assault. We hide our tenderness, we stop our playfulness, we withhold our voice, we tuck away our dreams, for they have been so often battered. This self-preservation makes sense. But we can begin honoring our seeds by noticing that we’re doing that, by feeling the pain of it, and by celebrating with those who are daring to show their seeds.

When you feel your heart hurting, it might be because someone has harmed your seed. It might be you yourself who’s done it, to yourself or to another. You might be living in the story that there is not enough space in the world for your seed or for that of another. Notice it, and then dear cousin put your arms all the way around your precious seed and hold it like you would an infant, a child, a beloved. Our life depends on you doing it.

We come from a few generations of people who’ve been living in the story that participation in the market economy is good for the nation, but it’s not true. In fact, the competition, scarcity mentality, and time-suck of the market economy is a powerful seed-crushing force. Practicing active resistance is one very accessible way to protect your seed. Know that the images we look upon are etched in our souls, and then choose which you will allow in. When you are at the gas station and a screen pops on the pump with advertising videos, look away and plug your ears, or chat with a stranger, or sing. Turn off your phone, more and more often. Talk to strangers. Give away more time and things than you thought you could. Make yourself think again, and again, and yet again before buying something that you most probably don’t need, and if you do buy it give tremendous praise and thanks for the gifts of the earth that someone turned into a tool for making life shine. Choose which way you’re willing to hear world news, even if it’s different than other people you respect.

Starting there, resisting the impersonal but ever-present forces of the market economy, you might also begin noticing and resisting the personal attacks on your seed. One day you might find yourself speaking up when another person has diminished you, and one day you might find yourself speaking to a large group on behalf of the seeds of a whole people, or a plant, or a planet. It can happen.

You must resist the harming of your soul-seeds, and then also you must feed them deliciousness, give to them like you would to a child or a lover. What are the ways to do this? The list is forever-long and it’s yours. A few ways: being in silence. journalling. being with people with whom we feel welcome and free. giving service to community. being outside and knowing

the natural world as a friend. being willing to stick out, to be eccentric...for some people are like that and we need them. being willing to be invisible, quiet...for some people are like that and we need them. moving slowly. making things with our hands. praying. singing. dancing.

Our communities are walking-breathing soul-seed-banks. The seeds in our children, if they have not already been buried deep by mistreatment, are alive and visible. The seeds in our elders are sometimes re-emerged in the forms of eccentricity and generosity. The seeds in our middle- agers are sometimes active and visible as workhorses, pumping out their callings while there’s still time. 

But the most precious and tender seeds of all, the ones we’ve so tragically forgotten and must now at all costs reach out to protect and nurture, are those of our Sojourners, our teens and young adults.

For so many decades now we’ve left the Sojourners on their own, assuming that they can get what they need by the learning that takes place in high school or college, that they can find their way ‘like we did,’ that growing-up just happens. Yet without the nurturance of community, seeds languish and die. If we want the world to benefit from the one-and-only seeds that this generation is bringing, then we must contribute to the protection and nurturance of their seeds. We must help make fertile soil, for their time for planting may well be now. We must do this even though it likely did not happen for us. Hurry—lest we forget that this is exactly what we longed for, let’s begin again now to honor our Sojourners.

Where did the notion of “pulling oneself up by ones’ bootstraps” come from? Certainly our ancestors who lived in real community would never have dreamed up such an idea that creates the opposite of community. Let’s now turn that seed-starving notion upside down. How much can we give to our Sojourners so that they can protect and, if it’s the time, grow out their seeds? For we need what they’ve got, more than ever. You know it.

How shall we do that?

They might need:

• Community. To be seen, to be known as carriers of a precious community treasure. To be
  given what they need in order that they can carry their seed in the world. To be invited into spaces where they haven’t been seen, to be listened to well and trusted to listen well. Sometimes this requires middle-agers and elders who have money to realize that the Sojourners can’t come unless we exuberantly offer free passage to gatherings where we need their voices (which is all gatherings).
  
• Inexpensive housing. For, if they must spend all of their days working at jobs simply in order to have housing, how can they live into the visions their seeds are calling them to? What if Empty Nesters offered free or inexpensive housing to young adults, many of whom have college debt or other financial difficulties that keep them from growing out their seeds? What could that do for the future, for the lives of the great-grandchildren?
  
• Access to land. Many of this generation are awakened to the need for right relationship with land and food, and we must make ways for them to live into that calling. If we have inheritances from ancestors (usually from people who benefitted from some kind of privilege) how can we share its benefits with a wider community than just our own personal descendants?
  
• Ritual. For half a century or more our culture has been re-examining our relationship with religion, and now many are re-establishing ways that are chosen from a place of self- knowing and integrity. Some are participating in existing houses of worship, some are joining their leadership in an effort to help them evolve, and some are creating new ways of spiritual community. However it is, we must honor this longing and step into it, sometimes with stumbling, humble, baby steps. Making ritual—to honor the seasons, the passages through life, the grief of living, the joy of living, or anything else—is one way to build lasting community connection with the All.

Sojourners are carrying seeds that we all need in order to survive. They are asking the right questions, remembering ancestral ways, willing to experiment, able to think and speak clearly, and ready to give to the good of All. We can’t even imagine what they will bring forth. But they need us to see them, welcome them onto the path, help them, be family with them.

*******

Dear Cousin! What if you were carrying a seed that we all needed in order to survive? What if your neighbor also was, and also your nephew, your sister, and the stranger on the street?

Don’t you want to live as though that were utterly, heartbreakingly true?
Each day is another chance. 

Funerals: Why to Go

Dear Kristin, 

Did you hear that Marie Frana died? I just read it in the paper, but her funeral is today already. I’m going. Want to ride in with me? 

To be honest,  this is more than a carpool invite. I want to tell you my thoughts about funerals, share some powerful cultural truths that I wish someone had explained to me many decades ago. Since I didn’t know, I missed out on many opportunities to be part of the weaving of community that happens in its once-and-only way at each funeral. I missed out on the opportunity to show up in a way that matters to the whole like you’ll never know until your own loved one passes. And I missed out on chances to help hold together the map of our community. 

Here you are, new to the neighborhood, bringing your children and your many gifts, ready to be wholly part of this place. I offer you these reflections on funerals as an invitation to that wholeness. Yes, it’s a straight-out attempt to convince you, my new neighbor, to come with me to this and all future neighborhood funerals!

I used to think of funerals like I did weddings. You wouldn’t just show up at someone’s wedding; you need to be specifically invited. That’s clearly true where seats and meals are carefully counted, and it’s easy to see why I conflated weddings and funerals, as they are both held (around here) in church sanctuaries and church basements, with pastors and flowers and prayers.

But of course there are no personal invitations to funerals. The invitation is broadcast to all via the printed obituary, the church bulletin, the word-of-mouth. I used to assume that I wasn’t included in that invitation, because perhaps I didn’t know that person well, or because I didn’t think I should take up space, that I would seem an intruder, an outsider, a voyeur. I’m not really from here..how could I be welcome? 

Yet, how do we become ‘from’ a place but by participating in the rituals of life? Is there any other way to learn the stories that weave us together except by showing up to listen and remember on behalf of all? Funerals bring together a particular group of people that will never again converge, their hearts all oriented in that particular direction in that one moment, telling those particular stories. If we show up, we can catch some of them. There is abundance, and all are welcome to this table of telling and remembering. 

The stories that hold our connections through generations have to be carried, and we humans are the vessels that must carry them. They are sacred relics of our culture, kept alive only by the moving breath of voice and the open heart of ear.  We can carry stories that happened long before we were born, and in the telling of them we add yet another layer of the story. The only way to begin carrying them is to begin. To begin is to become part of the warp of community. 

I think part of my blind spot on funerals came from a sense that, in order to take up space there, I needed to matter somehow to the bereaved. I needed to feel a particular connection to the deceased, or have a particular task at the funeral, else I would be invisible and thus not matter. 

But I see now how being invisible, perhaps not mattering to anyone there at all, is a deliciously humble perfect non-self to bring to a funeral. Being part of the funeral congregation, I can feel my individual presence utterly absorbed by the whole. It is important to the bereaved to see many faces, many yeses to the life that lived here among us. Showing up at funerals is an easy way to shed the need to matter for who we each are, and practice mattering only as part of the whole. Surely our ancestors knew this way well. 

If we, the random neighbors and acquaintances of the deceased, don’t show up, are we missed? No. But if we do show up, we get to instantly be part of the community soup. What’s it like to both not-matter, to not be important to the deceased or the bereaved, to not have a task, yet to live in the knowing that we truly do matter as part of the whole?  When the community makes funeral-soup, it is the bereaved who are the meat and vegetables, and we others who make the broth. It all matters. 

You want to hang around elders more, hear their stories, jokes, and ideas? There is no better place than at funerals. Because they sure would not miss it. And whether you’ve just arrived from the moon or you’re the neighbor they’ve only met once, you are welcome. They are glad you’ve come.

You want to learn the old ways and stories of your community? You don’t have to live there 30 years to earn the right to ask questions.  You don’t have to get a research grant. You don’t have to slowly build relationships through weekly coffees (though let’s do that too). You just have to show up at funerals, stay for the lunch after, linger around the coffee urn and photo boards. Your interest will feed what is wanting to be given. For those stories are longing to be told, and you earned a ticket to the grand show of life-and-death just by being here. 

At funerals you have extra permission to ask questions that can be hard to fit into other settings. ’Do you ever remember seeing your mom and dad dance together?’ ‘What was it like when you sold the cows?’ The questions almost seem to be sitting out there in the space between you, begging to be asked. For there is an open-hearted spirit pervading it all, urging ‘Now! Here, and nevermore! Listen, tell, remember!’ Everyone feels it, everyone obeys. Full participation in the sacrament is natural, unavoidable. We were made for this. 

We white people of European decent sometimes bemoan the loss of meaningful ritual that’s embedded in our lineage. It’s true that we retain only a smidgen of what our ancestors did to hold their world together. While we re-imagine meaningful ceremonial ways for our descendants, let’s also honor those that remain in place. Funerals are one of those, and they always include the essentials: folks take pause from whatever else they were doing that day, gather in reverence, pray and sing, share food and share memories. 

On top of that, there might be even more to teach or remind you of pieces of our cultural history: the white robes; the waving ball of incense; the ceremonial carrying of sacred objects by children; the sharing of the blood and body of Christ; the carrying of rose stems by teary-eyed loved ones; and the partaking of roast beef sandwiches and coffee made by women who know their gifts and know that others will do the same for them someday. Whether you celebrate or mourn the history that brought us these rituals, you have to see what they are, in the end: perfectly imperfect humans honoring life in the best way we know how. 

A few years ago when my dear father died, I learned another good lesson about funerals. His memorial was in the Twin Cities, 150 miles from the place I’ve made my home for 36 years. Dad was a public figure there for many years so of cause there were hundreds of people in attendance. But the people who meant the most to me there were the seven friends from home who surprised me by traveling all that way to attend the 2-hour memorial. Sure they knew my dad, but when I saw their faces at the door I understood that they came for me. They knew how their presence would feel to me.  My tears flow even now to remember them there. Such a gift. All I can do now is keep giving it back. Maybe this letter to you is a small part of that. 

I’m grateful for what I’ve learned through time and missed chances. I’ll keep passing it along, just in case anyone else missed this learning like I did. Let’s keep the together-fires burning in our neighborhood! Come, let’s be the broth! Come let’s be vessels, let’s catch some strands of story to help hold our community together! 

Bring the children! 

Love, 

Liz