Again, it’s been months since I posted. Making my way. Not back. More a recalibration into a new now.
A cancelled tour of Turkey made way for a spectacular trip to Nova Scotia where, with one of my heart sisters, I danced for a week in a studio on St. Margaret’s Bay. Mother Nature pulled out all the stops as we were blessed with brilliant hardwood tree colours; sunshine and warmth that belied the pre-Thanksgiving days; eagles, whales, crows and gulls that cavorted with us. I remembered how to laugh as I forgot my head and all the stuff it had conjured up during the previous months. Dancing ‘til we ached, a wise knowing emerged up and through, bypassing the mind, guiding my steps back into The Dance.
A study group convened to read Otto Scharmer and Kathrin Kaufer’s Leading from the Emerging Future, hearing Adam Kahane talk social labs at Tamarack’s annual CCI event hosted in Edmonton, and sitting in circle one brilliant October Saturday morning with Christina Baldwin and friends, quenched my thirst for learning about leading in complexity and emergence, using Peerspirit circle principles and practice.
In November, a most gratifying response to my deeply held intention to call an Art of Hosting training. Together with my local mates, Margaret and Hugh Sanders, and Beth Sanders, we stepped in to create The Art of Hosting BIG Decisions, a national multigenerational learning experience that attracted local high school students, university urban planning students, community and leadership developers, teachers, folks at the beginning, middle and end of their careers. Our commitment to accept everyone who needed to be there was matched by a circle of people, filled to the brim with appreciation and commitment to dive in together. And we practiced a model of “economic justice” by tithing back to Peerspirit in acknowledgment of circle as the pattern holder for the Art of Hosting.
Come Solstice, and a full week both before Christmas and into the new year, I felt deep stirrings that my work and life as I have known it would have to change, again. A relapse of deep fatigue that now comes unpredictably and suddenly. A couple of occasions of working solo gave me the counterpoint experience to conclude I no longer wanted to.
For the past two weeks I’ve both reveled in and recoiled from the realization that I have that precious and privileged gift of space and time, not only for the two months I’d been used to during summer recess, or for the next few months as I look over a calendar with at most a “gig” a month, but for the rest of my life.
THE REAL WORK
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.