Category: Creativity

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My Will and Testament

Dad and Paul June 2001

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I walked into the living room and asked Dad to turn off the news … to hear instead the news I had to share. His doctor had just called with the results of his CAT scan the day before—an appointment made to check out Dad’s assumption that he had pneumonia. The diagnosis was stark—his lungs were filled with metastatic cancer that had originated in his kidney.

“Oh,” he responded.

Three weeks before his death, watching the horror unfolding at the twin towers, Dad heard this news differently that he would have the day before.

Today Howard and I will sign the latest version of our will. We started this process last fall, but our travels and our attorney’s family health crisis slowed the process. Finally, a month ago, we made our appointment. And here we are, mostly sequestered in our home due to a global pandemic … about to pick up a pen and sign our “Last Will and Testament.”

Howard and I are healthy. We are following the guidelines recommended by the CDC. We are living life fully and staying very connected, even in this time of physical separation. But signing our will in this moment in history feels different than it would have a month ago. Global illness and death are no longer far away nor out of sight.

Ten days ago, a dozen neighbors gathered in our shared courtyard with a drink in hand to toast the twin Tulip Magnolia trees in their full, pale pink glory. COVID 19 was lurking outside our gate—it was the last time we will be physically close together until this period has ended. Today the blossoms are falling. They remained in place much longer than usual, despite a short snowfall and wind—a gift of beauty we all have been grateful for.

This moment in history brings the fragility of existence, the power and beauty of life and our profound global interconnectedness of all of creation into stark view. This has always been true, yet today our thin and fragile illusions of separation, rugged independence and control have come crashing down.

How do we then live?

Words fall short these days so I’m looking in fresh places.

“Nothing lasts forever. No one lives forever. Keep that in mind, and love”  I first heard Lisa Bonet’s* song years ago and found her haunting lyrics very moving. Lisa reminds us our life here on Earth is “eternally fresh” and precious, calling us to step outside of fear and into love.

“Learning to sit with not knowing when I don’t see where it’s going”    I keep playing Carrie Newcomer’s song each day, as it is a good companion for this moment when I know so little about “where it’s going.” No answers, but it helps me live into the questions and the unknown.

January and February were my months of travel—Boise, ID, Klamath Falls, OR, NYC and Atlanta. I didn’t get to see Alison Saar’s Harriet Tubman statue while I was in Harlem, but hearing about it has sent me to search out photos and descriptions of this remarkable sculpture. Harriet isn’t depicted as running the underground railroad, but rather becoming it. She faces south, following her divine call to return again and again to lead people from slavery to freedom. Her time called for courage—i.e. being afraid and going forward anyway. Ours does too. We aren’t to try to be like Harriet, or anyone else for that matter, but to become more fully ourselves and to do what makes our heart sing as a gift to our global family.

At times like these I also turn to my old friends—books. I want to find my copy of Etty Hillisum’s An Unfinished Life, a moving diary of Etty’s spiritual transformation in the horrors of the Holocaust. And I’ll reread any of my Madeleine L’Engle novels as they skillfully illuminate the walk through darkness to light. Howard and I are reading World Enough & Time aloud, savoring Christian McEwen’s words. Rose just posted a beautiful blog about the sudden darkness…and light… in the midst of the Ash Wednesday service she, Steve and I attended in Atlanta.

I’ve also gathered with others on impersonal technology and have experienced a power of deep connection that left my heart warmed and comforted. Some were the organizational calls of Wisdom & Money and Be Present that I’ve been on for years. As always, we take the time to really check in during these calls, sharing wherever we are at that moment. Only then do we dive into the transformative work we do together—work that feeds me deeply. Saturday, twelve of us gathered on Zoom for our monthly Be Present Developer’s meeting—including the magical ability to meet all together, then electronically divide into small groups before returning together at the end. Some of the calls have been keeping touch with family. Howard’s and my heartache at this time of separation from our almost two-year-old grandson, Danny, and his parents has been eased by regularly “hanging out” with him on Google Hangouts. We are exploring having a virtual living room gathering with our family in town sometime this week.

Creativity hasn’t stopped with technology. Next Saturday we were supposed to go with Danny to see the play The Hungry Caterpillar. Instead Howard and I are going to make a collage caterpillar, strengthened by clear packing tape, to share with him. Creativity and play are critical aspects of life, especially in a time like this.

Today will be a full one, including crafting the caterpillar and signing our wills. Each moment brings the opportunity to practice vulnerability and courage.

I’ll close with another song that is balm to my heart, with the prayer that it will touch yours too. This beautiful rendition of the 23rd Psalm is sung by Bobby McFerrin and dedicated to his Mother.

Peace be with you all.

*based on a Tagore poem

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The Gift We Bring to Each Moment

Are you searching for something in 2020 more satisfying than the status quo? 

Me too. It’s been quite a journey:

I grew up saluting a country proclaiming freedom for all, only to discover that “all” never meant everyone.

I grew up in an all-white Texas church, never understanding that when Jesus said,
“Love your neighbor as yourself,” he meant everyone, including me, including those different than I, even those who feel like enemies.

I woke up and realized I was one part of a global family on one shared Earthly home.

It was enough to send me on a life-long journey  seeking integrity, justice and equity within and without.

What an out-of-the-box and labyrinthine journey it has been!

So begins my website, and so continues my own journey after a long string of awakenings.

Here is the fact I keep coming back to: The only thing I bring to my every encounter is myself. Therefore, my life’s core task is to take responsibility for myself. It is the foundational gift I have to offer upon which all the rest of my life’s work is built.

That is how I can honor and serve the God who knitted me together in my mother’s womb, and honor my far-flung human family and our one shared earthly home. How I show up matters. Even when my computer’s dreaded “spinning beach ball” forces me to stop often and long to wait before continuing to type. Even when my old patterns of fear or overwork or suspicions flare. Even when I’m treated unfairly. Even when I recoil at the latest news.

I’ve been participating in an online Advent retreat offered by William Redfield. One quote that stopped me in my tracks was the invitation to “more fully and more completely and more truthfully know and claim who we are. It is this open and authentic presence that we must bring to the manger when we approach this special birth. We will not know who and what we are gazing at unless and until we know who we truly are. This is the work of Advent.” Knowing and honoring the sacred heart of myself is the only way I can know and honor the sacred in you and in all of life.

Let me be clear. I’m not shooting for perfection. Knowing who I am means knowing the fullness that was uniquely me at my birth, outside of the distress and adaptations I’ve picked up over my lifetime as I tried so hard to fit in and be good. For me, that knowing includes my clarity that I was born an “eight eyed steam girl,” and thus calmly strolling through life just isn’t possible for me. While I have to take responsibility for how I let off steam or what I do with my unique sight, I have only one life to live—mine. Like all of us humans, I fall down and have to get up time and time again. That’s the messy, frustrating and glorious journey of transformation after waking up to myself and the world around me.

My good intent is nice, but intent definitely isn’t enough. When something shows up in my thoughts or behavior that is out of alignment with my heart, I am learning to slow down and become a deep-diving home-grown explorer, looking wide and digging deep, armed with an old toothbrush to scrub my inner nooks and crannies that I’ve ignored or excused for far too long.

Despite all of the strenuous work of deep cleaning and the bruises from falling, I’ve walked with far too many folks on this journey to believe the lie that I am trapped forever in compulsions, distress, trauma—mine, our culture’s or someone else’s.

This is work only I can do.

However, I definitely don’t do it alone. I’ve learned to notice and appreciate the steadiness of Love that surrounds me. I grab the hands of friends and family. I reach out to the edges of the universe and into the smallest part of my cells and touch the support that is always present, even if unseen. Sometimes dancing and sometimes complaining at the top of my lungs, I step once again into taking responsibility for myself and my actions.

This has been my journey for most of my adult life. This Advent a few more pieces fell into place and my body and spirit feel the tingle of the new. The work of 2020 will be to knit this new into my bones and my actions.

Are you on this journey too? Welcome!

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Blazing New Trails: Awe

Howard and I took our year-old grandson, Danny, to a neighborhood coffee shop. After charming half of the room with his bright smile, he looked up. His eyes widened and mouth fell open as he threw up his arms, reaching toward the twirling ceiling fan. He couldn’t believe his eyes—the slowly turning fan was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Danny, as usual, had no words for the amazing sight he witnessed.

At 65, I’ve experienced my own full-bodied delight and awe at themiracle of thirty-five people from Be Present, Inc. and Wisdom & Money, ages of 6-79, all gathered together at the Trailblazing Boards of Directors Meeting in early February.  Be Present has always included people of all ages fully participating in all aspects of the work, including Youth Advisors on the board. In addition, all board meetings are open. This meeting was opened even wider with the full collaboration of two organizations.

It took fifteen years of a growing partnership and six months to land at the threshold of the Trailblazing meeting with an agenda in hand.

A team of the leadership from both organizations met on conference calls for six months to craft the agenda. Initially, I could see absolutely no way we could cram everything into two days of meetings. Both organizations were in powerful growth moments with a full slate of things that needed to be discussed, plus we wanted to include storytelling about our individual and shared history. All in a two-day time frame.

I questioned our sanity to try such a crazy thing.

Margherita, my friend and Be Present’s Chief Operating Officer, reminded me that we were in the midst of an innovative practice of partnership and collaboration. Innovation requires stepping into the unknown with trust and has nothing to do with figuring it all out logically. Her words reminded me that I do know something greater than my fearful, whirling mind: we know how to hold the nuance of individual organization decision making inside a collective/collaborative design.

The wind of creativity blew away my attempts to figure it all out.

Together we crafted a beautiful agenda. One we were willing to hold lightly as both organizations knew that in reality, WE are the agenda. We shared a willingness to stop to address anything that emerges. Period. No matter how beautiful our plan.

Two days before we began, I received the email that could have subverted our partnership (which I described in an earlier blog). We needed to adjust our agenda, freeing up time to open up what had happened within both the Joint Leadership team and the Wisdom & Money Board.

Back to the drawing board. Through conversations, phone calls and creativity we combined a few sections and shortened another. While it was true that some of the topics we had hoped to cover would have to wait, we were willing to take a risk to see if a potential rupture could be transformed in ways that would strengthen our partnership.

That is the work that we do. Even if it means changing the agenda on the fly. I’m learning not to panic, but to step into the next unknown with agility.

By the time we gathered for the closing of our Trailblazing Boards of Directors meeting, our agenda had transformed into something extraordinary that defies easy explanation—truly an Alchemy of Spirit.

All thirty-five of us felt the magic we had created together. We headed home having experienced the power of effective and sustainable partnerships.

The twirling of Spirit toward justice, equity and transformation is happening around the globe, including in our midst last February at the Stone Mountain Inn. On land where the Ku Klux Klan ignited racial hatred and burned crosses of terror for forty years, we gathered together across all our differences, and the Spirit fanned the flames of transformation within our partnership.

Powerful as our week together was, however, a meeting alone isn’t enough.

Sustaining the partnership we experienced requires a commitment by the individuals and organizations to keep aligning our values and actions. Every moment. For every person. No matter how hard we worked on the agenda. Partnership means we have each other’s backs as we individually and collectively walk out of the addictions in our culture that are caught in generations of injustice, disrespect and inequality.

It takes time. It requires risk.

I look forward to the day when I can tell Danny about the wonders of the work that started long before he was born that will support the world he will one day inherit. When he hears these stories, I hope he still has enough of his child-like delight to throw up his hands with me in awe at what is slowly turning in our midst.

Looking ahead to our next joint organizational program offering, we’re in the process of creating a training centered around a core practice of both organizations—the Be Present Empowerment Model—and two additional two core practices of Wisdom & Money—Wisdom/Contemplative prayer practices and money practices. We are exploring using a format developed by Be Present—an 18-month training where we gather for a long weekend quarterly followed by an open conference where we share our learnings. We are in the midst of the early stages of planning, but this part we know: our Trailblazing Training in the Boston area will begin in 2020. Stay tuned.

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Blazing New Trails: Juggling Hats

Nine months ago, my Texas roots were in high gear. I struggled to grip the reigns as two organizations dear to my heart began preparations to come together for a Trailblazing Boards of Directors meeting in February. As we galloped toward our time together in Atlanta, I tried to hold onto my different hats—my Wisdom & Money Board Chair hat, my Be Present Vision-Based Social Change Fund Development Co-chair hat and my own personal hat as a participant in both organizations. That’s a lot of hats for a two-handed woman.

Part of my preparation was to let go of my attempts to grip all the reigns, while simultaneously learning the art of hat juggling in the service of stepping deeply into collaboration.

In my last blog, written just before I headed to The Trailblazing Boards of Directors Meeting, I wrote, “Here I am. Living a dream that has grown far beyond anything I could ask or imagine… It is not just possible, it is happening…right now.”

This gathering blazed new trails of partnership between Wisdom & Money and Be Present, Inc. In these times when so many partnerships and alliances are shattering on the national and local stage, we faithfully walked a way of collaboration that supported both organizations to fully embody their unique vision and mission while manifesting new opportunities of joint work together.

First, the cast of characters in this Trailblazing adventure: Clearing the trail are leaders within the networks of Be Present and Wisdom & Money. It is an “unlikely” organizational partnership: Be Present raises the visibility of Black Women’s leadership–from its founding to now–of a diverse, collaborative network of leaders. Wisdom & Money is a network rooted in Christianity that convenes wealthy people, almost all of whom are white, to engage with money as a doorway to spiritual transformation at the personal, communal and systemic levels. Wisdom & Money understands that the journey of spiritual transformation leads to diverse partnerships and sees working with wealth as one part of the larger societal movement of spiritual and economic transformation and justice. A part of Be Present’s mission is to collaborate with other nonprofits to advance a more resilient and equitable society.

Second, the road we’ve already traveled together: We didn’t just meet. This partnership began fifteen years ago in the midst of a crisis within Wisdom & Money, then called Harvest Time. Shortly before stepping into Harvest Time, I’d glimpsed Be Present’s ability to walk boldly into the middle of what looked like a hot mess (in this case, an honest and hard conversation about race taking place in a large, racially diverse gathering). The process I witnessed supported everyone involved to speak what was true for them, as together we collectively found a way through the discussion in a manner that honored everyone’s spirit and was faithful to the vision we were seeking. I was convinced that Be Present could help Harvest Time navigate its crisis in a way that could help us live more boldly into our mission.  Again, I rode in full speed ahead (though it took time) to support a consultancy with Be Present because I’d tasted the power of the work of Harvest Time (and now Wisdom & Money) in transforming the individual heart/Spirit and the economic system. I wanted the organization to thrive.

Much slower than I’d hoped for (but I can now see the rightness of the timing) began with hiring Be Present as a consultant. After a general consultancy, Harvest Time stepped into a Human Resources consultancy which supported Harvest Time to develop a prophetic and practical organizational policy and structure to make sure the Vision and Mission aligned with our organizational practices. In addition, we traveled the wild and demanding road together in a nine-year partnership in Mississippi.

The key that Be Present brought to Harvest Time/Wisdom & Money was the Be Present’s Empowerment Model, a model powerful enough to provide a process for the transformative work both organizations are doing: Stepping OUTSIDE the distress of oppression, our own historical distress and the culture’s glaring oppression. Each time we take that step, we find ourselves standing more INSIDE the clarity of our true and unique selves and thus more able to listen to others in a conscious and present state. From there, we can build effective relationships and sustaining true alliances.

In other words, we’ve been building this partnership for a long time. We were ready for this next step of collaboratively preparing for our Trailblazing Boards of Director’s meeting. A joint team of leaders from both organizations spent months collaboratively crafting an agenda where both organizations fully shared practices and leadership, as together we envisioned the shared trail ahead of us.

Drawing by Khara Scott-Bey

By early February, the time of preparations had passed. I was saddled up and ready to ride toward our meeting in Atlanta, spurred on by Sara Evan’s singing “I Could Not Ask for More” to all my gathering partners.

*I returned from this Trailblazing Boards of Directors meeting in mid-February. Once home, I wrote and I wrote and I wrote…but the experience and all that had opened up, both for me and organizationally, needed a bit of time to settle into me before I was ready to share my writings publicly. More “reports from the trail” to follow.

For more info about how these two trailblazing organizations support my work, check out my refocused and expanded website—specifically The Practices tab.

 

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The Angst of Inner Spaciousness

It’s been quite a summer. A wedding. A Be Present Black & Female National Conference where I was part of a diverse group of facilitators. A gathering with two organizations looking at “Money and the New Community.” And a Wisdom & Money Board meeting. All as my little grandson Daniel keeps growing cuter by the moment.

All year I’ve been releasing some of my very old, entrenched habits that are seriously unhelpful. That work plus the alchemical mix of these rich events of the summer has stretched me. It feels as if the boundaries of my life have expanded, whispering of possibility.

More openness in my life is gift, but right now it feels strange.

Sometimes this new inner territory seems blank. Its emptiness feels like something is seriously wrong and, thus, is very disconcerting. I know inner spaciousness is part of the transformative journey, but it’s tempting to try to fill up the space so I can feel “normal” again.

In addition, some of my old feelings and habits have crept back in, uninvited, and are creating quite a ruckus. They turn cartwheels. They call out in their tricky sounds-good voices trying to entice me to let them stay. I hear them. I see them. While I can’t ignore them, I’m not letting them take root in the soil of my expanded inner space.

Neither of these experiences—the unsettling emptiness nor the clanging old voices—are passing on through quickly. Quietly.

I’m impatient. I want to savor and write about all that is emerging—all I’ve learned—what I see from this vantage pint. But new words fail me, and I’m temporarily left with echoing silence or jangling old words.

I’m learning that this is the way transformation works—just like being courageous means I feel my roaring fears and move forward anyway.

At a time when I want to be writing regular blogs again, diving deeper than I’ve done before, I’m slowing down to adjust to the new inner spaciousness and freedom.

It is the fastest way I know to move forward.

 

I couldn’t resist including:

Daniel Gunner Thurston
4 months old
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Daniel’s Arrival

Big Topics at Midnight’s dedication reads, “My ancestors and I dedicate this book to [my grown children] Paul and Laura. May you and other young adults and children around the globe today, as well as your children, benefit from my generation’s work to create the transformation we long for. Blessings as you live your own lives fully, wildly and boldly.”

I wrote that in 2012.

Just after midnight on April 25, 2018, the bleak hospital maternity waiting room cleared out as other eager but tired grandparents left to find a more comfortable place to rest for a few hours. Left alone, I felt free to sing out loud. A favorite lullaby I sang to Paul and Laura when they were young. Beloved hymns. Chants. One flowing into the next, all lifted up for the parents, Lauren and Paul, in the last stages of laboring.

Just before 3:00 am, I heard faint bells ringing. They ring when a baby is born; at that moment, the bells pealed to announce Daniel Gunner Thurston’s arrival. Within the hour, I stood beside my 6’4” son as he held his 19” newborn with such gentleness. Soon, I too got to hold Daniel close to my heart. One so tiny burst out of his tiny womb-home, and a new generation in the family had arrived.

I am so excited to be Danny’s Grammie. As my mother used to tell young Paul, we’ll have many grand adventures together.

With my one-week old grandchild in my heart, I am more committed than ever to help create a world where all children and adults can live fully, wildly and boldly.

For me, that commitment used to hold an urgency. Seeing all that was so unjust and inequitable, I wanted things to change quickly.

I’ve learned that urgency only slows down the process.

Daniel reminds me of the mystery and grace of a life lived in both body and spirit—a life that can’t be rushed. Before I know it, he will also show me the awe of discovering the wonders of the world around us, the joy of playing and the natural flow of creativity.

As always, the flow of gift between the generations moves in all directions. As I hold Daniel, I can feel my ancestors, especially my parents, Sue and Ed, my grandparents Ann and John, Ruth and OR, great-grandparents Allie and Arthur … gathering around. Those long gone from this earth and this one so newly arrived all encourage me choose integrity, love, equity and respect in every moment. And to have fun along the way.

Daniel, and all of his generation, send out this summons to you and to me with their adorable sleeping faces, their lusty cries, and their innate desire for snuggling. I want to be a student of the seasoned teachings from the ancestors, from my colleagues and friends, from my own heart, and from Daniel’s baby’s delight. Together, we are all up for the task of living and loving our way into a beautiful world that values us all.

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Trusting Refrigerator Wisdom

My cooking claim to fame is that I can open the refrigerator, scan the shelves, then create a meal out of whatever is available. (Leftover Oatmeal Cobbler. Salsa and Vegetable Soup.) I may check a recipe, but only to play with possibilities. If I have a handful of apricots, I might mix together something Moroccan. Sprigs of cilantro could lead to Whatever-I-Have-on-Hand Enchiladas. Scanning the shelves, I am curious to find out what dish will emerge from the random ingredients I find there. No fears or what-ifs. I’m not concerned with tomorrow’s lunch or next week’s dinner. And I trust that whatever I make will be edible, and often delicious.

I’ve just come face to face with the fact that I have a very different approach to other tasks I need to accomplish. Particularly tasks that involve working collaboratively within organizations that hold a bold vision that makes my heart sing.

Instead of playing with what’s in front of me, I grab my tattered recipe for I-Need-To-Make-Something-Happen-NOW. Defaulting to distrust, I scramble in over-responsibility with things that aren’t mine to control and don’t notice the tasks that are mine to tend.

Throughout my life, part of me is always looking down the road a piece—weeks or years in the future. All too often, I focus that sight on potential pitfalls or possible brick walls endangering the path up ahead. I try so hard to be positive—and part of me is naturally that way—but my innate bias is to focus on what might go wrong. From there, my ironclad responsibility kicks into to full gear. Grabbing all the ingredients and tools I can find, I scramble to rigidly follow my inner “recipe” and try to “help” as a way to calm my preemptive fears.

My favorite life-refrigerator ingredient is my astute analytical thinking. Though it has served me well, in this case it keeps me focused on the recipe of Solving-Potential-Problems rather than the mystery of creativity. I need to drop my thinking into the soup pot and let it bubble on the back burner for a bit. Turning from the stove, I then need to squat down and dig in the back of the bottom shelf. There, hidden in the shadows, are my tucked away feelings. They’ve always been there flavoring everything I cook. Ignored, sometimes they taint the entire dish. To bring my cooking skills into my skills in life, I need to include my feelings as a valued ingredient.

Starting from a perspective of possibilities, I remain open to the mystery of what might emerge. The only way I can have the openness I seek is to release my need to hold tightly onto my beautifully constructed plans filled with desires for my own life and for everyone else around me.

Stepping into organizations with my Chef-in-Life apron on, I remember the vast array of options held in the mystery of the moment. The taste of the unexpected. The way the flavors of different ingredients innately combine to become something greater than the parts.

It’s really simple, even in its complexity: Face each moment with the same fresh openness that I have in front of an open refrigerator before dinner. Peek at a pre-determined plan, if needed, but just for ideas. Trust what I already know—my intuitive experience of years in the kitchen and in organizations.

All that is required of me is to show up fully with all I have to bring to the task at hand, enjoy the process, delight in the remarkable array of partners, honor my training by mothers and grandmothers, and relax into the mystery of all those who join me at the Table.

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Steam Powered New Year’s Resolutions

steam-locomotive-1Tis the season for New Year’s resolutions. However, this January demands more creativity than losing weight or exercising more. In a playful yet pointedly serious way, I penned my resolutions for 2017:

·      Find a balance between honoring my own personality and being respectful. The deep longing of my heart often crashes onto the scene with the power of a steam locomotive. I wasn’t born with a gentle, slowly emerging gift. I don’t always show up in a way that this self-respecting, well-mannered girl was taught to believe was acceptable. Nevertheless, it is who I am…and I must find a way to be respectful even when I am all steamed up.

•       Seek a diversity of ways to access knowledge. Over the years I’ve sharpened my thinking in the service of my steam-girl gift. Figuring things out, problem-solving, seeing down the road to what needs to happen next have been skills that are indeed of great benefit. But stuck there, the best I can do is guide the steam locomotive where I think it ought to go – knocking down things I believe are obstacles. My brilliant thinking and my not so brilliant thinking are both leading me astray more often than they used to. And yet, I can’t leave my mind at the station. Instead, thinking must keep company with intuition, listening to my body and prayer.

•       Keep my feet planted in hope no matter what is happening around me. I hate roller coasters, and steam locomotives barreling down the hill run a close second. I don’t like physical speed, period. Given that I am by nature afraid of potential disasters down the road (or tracks) and I’m not sure that I can trust the locomotive mechanics or those who care for the rails, I’ve had to find courage from the bigger picture and things unseen. Life is unpredictable and uncontrollable, so I want to strengthen my ability to hold out for shimmering possibilities. I want to believe transformation is possible in every moment.

•       Do the work that is mine to do, and let the rest go. Like the locomotive, my innards hold both the power of water—connection to the emotions, washing things clean, the power to erode rock slowly drip-by-drip—and the power of fire—sacred fire, blasting away all that brings us no joy, thus allowing real treasures to emerge and illuminate dark, confusing corners.
I seek unity right in the middle of division and darkness. Uninterested in baby steps of minor tweaking of our current society’s injustice, I want to step right into the middle of collaboration and partnership: not merely flipping oppressed and oppressor roles, but stepping outside of that dichotomy altogether—now—through writing, conversations and collaborating with big topic organizations like Be Present, Inc. and Wisdom & Money.

It is time for each of us to step into the fullness of our leadership—in all of our quirks and diversity—and to work together to build strong and effective partnerships.

While it may sound tempting to return to a “simple” resolution like losing 20 pounds, more is demanded of me this year. And of you. Resolutions come in all shapes and sizes—what do yours look like?

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3:00 a.m.

I am no stranger to middle of the night risings. Too often I am wide awake at 3 or 4 a.m., filled with a mix of fear—of real possibilities or something wild from my imagination—and creativity. For much of the fall, however, I cozily slept past my usual time of night risings.

That shifted after the election. Real fears, imagined fears and creativity all swirled together, leaving me unable to return to sleep.

Real fears threaten my dreams of justice for our world. I must continue to wake up to both historical and current realities in the world around me, laying aside well-worn sound bites of misinformation. Starting with myself, I must notice when the cultural shards of fear and hate show up inside me, and take quick action to align my heart and behavior. Then, I must speak what is mine to say and take the action that is mine to take.

Imagined fears roil one after another. Here I easily teeter at the edge of a nightmare, too paralyzed or horrified to move.

Creativity dances in the middle of it all. For decades I’ve been practicing creative ways to communicate across differences, to embrace diversity and to act in alignment with my values and heart. This moment in our nation’s history demands profound creativity. Playful innovation, even in a time of crisis, has the power to break through our divisions to let something unexpected emerge.

I have spent my entire life honing the skills and practices I will need for this very moment. Nevertheless, part of me doesn’t feel ready. But epic adventures usually start without completed preparation—Hobbit Balbo Baggins left without his pocket-handkerchief and Queen Elise was taken, kicking and screaming, wearing a silk nightgown. Their fictional adventures support my in-the-flesh adventure of living my own life.

This is a moment that requires me to stand steady in the paradoxes of this scary midnight hour. I have to hold onto my critical thinking and seek facts rather comfortable, well-worn arguments. I have to hold onto attentive, conscious listening, especially in conversations with those with whom I disagree. I have to be creative in seeking partnerships across what feels like an abyss of difference.

abyss-walker
Abyss Walker Nancy

Years ago, in the middle of a Harvest Time sacred play ritual, I sat at a table with a group of characters. We were invited to don any of the costumes strewn around the room and come to the table dressed as the part of us that always felt excluded from the party. I don’t remember my outfit, but I clearly remember the name I gave that hidden part of myself—Abyss Walker.

Today, I honor the abyss walker part of myself. As much as I may go kicking and screaming, complaining that I am not up to the task, I know how to walk open heartedly across an abyss, the deep fissures that cut deeply across our nation and world.

First, I keep my heart open and grateful. Next, I listen—really listen—to others. This is the sort of listening I’ve been practicing in the Be Present Empowerment Model—listening to the other while simultaneously listening to myself. I need to know when the voices in my own head have grown louder than the person I am trying to listen to. Those inner thoughts are legion: My rebuttal; my fears; my corrections; my facts; and my horror. Pretending to listen when all I can hear is my own inner voice is disrespectful and leaves me with no ability to hear what is actually being said. The partnership across difference that I seek requires that I am consciously hearing the person I am listening to, and that I do whatever I need to do to keep my attention on her/him.

This sort of listening requires a level of personal responsibility that often pisses me off. It isn’t fair. Why do I have to listen so respectfully when I don’t feel respectfully listened to?

Why indeed? The only person I am responsible for is me. I have a clear choice. I can feel virtuous in my beliefs and only listen to people with whom I agree, but that choice will allow the divisions to grow and deepen. Or I can honor my values, my spirit and my faith and act in ways—in this case to listen—that flow from my deepest desire.

And yet, I can’t abdicate responsibility for showing up in the world in the fullness of my personal leadership. We need every one of us fully present, each stepping into our full leadership. I have been given a perspective and longing that must be spoken, and acted on. This is no place for silence, for playing nice.* It is a time for respectful conversations across our differences—seeking places of common ground that may be hidden by the passion of our beliefs, and refraining from demonizing the other person—all the while, sharing the perspective that is mine to share.

I have spent most of my adult life working for root level change—of our hearts, spirits and of the society. I do believe that our democracy has long been broken and filled with historical and current injustice. Profound change is needed. This election showed that millions of Americans agree that root level change is needed.

I believe that trying to change our nation from the top down, as we have done in this election, is the hardest way. But here we are. Abyss Walker will take me where the more timid parts of myself fear to tread. Who is the brave adventurer inside you, ready to lead you on the sacred path that is yours to walk for the good of our world?

*Nice is a word that has too long been held as a virtue for women, despite the fact that the origins of the word “nice” includes stupid, ignorant, incapable, silly and coy.

Novels mentioned are J.R.R Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Rae Carson’s Girl of Fire and Thorns

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Grandmother Ann Takes the Lead

“I loved the idea of grandmother and granddaughter dancing together, plaiting beauty across the tears in the fabric of the world. Together we twirled, hoping beyond hope that our dance across the generations would serve those yet to come.”1

Ann Cahoon (Mathys)
Ann Cahoon (Mathys)

Ann Cahoon Mathys take the lead:

Unlike some of my ancestors, I avoided epidemics, early widowhood, shipwrecks, Texas and prisoner of war camps.2 Nevertheless, I shared my family’s determination to better life for myself and others.

After High School graduation, I bucked tradition and headed off to college. I graduated from Milwaukee Downer in 1913 with my Bachelor’s degree, and from University of Wisconsin in June of 1915.

I knew I was born for such a time as the opening years of the 20th century. From my family’s experience as Welch immigrants to my volunteer work at Milwaukee’s Settlement House, I understood that “my people/our people” included far more than my family or nation. Many families, like mine, came to this country in the midst of tragedy and poverty, needing a compassionate helping hand. I was glad to offer mine.

Personally, and through my teachers and fellow students, I also knew that the boundaries of intellect didn’t end at the edges of a man’s mind. Despite the belief that higher education was a waste of time for a woman, I couldn’t wait to become a scholar of both the intellect and the body.

The intellectual narrow-mindedness of the world around me also needed to expand politically. I joined other Wisconsin women to fight for our right to vote. I wanted to bring my wisdom and knowledge to the legislature and make a difference in the world.

Nancy, as a child and teenager, you thought I was a boring old woman, but now you know better. I am delighted that when you came to your senses, you too caught sight of the possibility of a just world. That is good, as you are living in the early years of the 21st century—a moment of history that is even more in need of awakening than mine.

Nancy follows Ann’s lead and steps into the dance:

Grandma, I have gladly stepped into your dance, plaiting justice and faith, compassion and equity. I know my approach and beliefs are different than yours, but we both loved to stretch the boundaries of our day and wanted to serve the larger community around us.

I knew so little about you when you were alive. Even when I walked across the stage to get my master’s degree—wearing the same gown you’d worn seventy years earlier—I knew little about the world outside my neighborhood.

I now see a bigger picture than I did during my university days. For example, I understand that doors opened for our educations because of our intelligence, to be sure, but also because of the color of our skin and the financial support from our family. Though today gender and race don’t usually affect admission, going to college too often results in substantial debt as well as a degree, strapping graduates financially for years.

The vote you helped secure wasn’t available to everyone for decades. Even today we battle voting irregularities and gerrymandering. The candidates on our ballots are just beginning to cross gender and color lines but have been much slower to cross class lines.

We as a nation seem to have forgotten that most of us came here as immigrants. Over the years our national racism controlled who was welcome—usually those with white skin—and who was not. We Americans enjoy the fruits of immigrants’ labor eating the food they grew, traveling the roads and railroad tracks they constructed, enjoying motel rooms and houses they cleaned—then turn around and threaten deportation, pay unjust wages or speak as if these newer immigrants are lazy.

In the midst of these two centuries, we’ve both listened for the song of justice playing beneath the inequities. This month it has been 125 years since your birth and 100 years since you graduated with your master’s degree. I am delighted to reach for your hand once more, and join you in the dance of Life.

1Thurston, Nancy, Big Topics at Midnight, page xviii

2Ann would love to share the details about these events at another time…