The Chance to Do the Work I Love

This past week, I had the privilege to host an event with 10 school leaders and 50 of their lead teacher colleagues from elementary (K-Gr6), junior or middle (Gr7-9) and senior high (Gr10-12) schools within the school district’s newly structured “catchment area” (all schools feed into each other). 

Their big goal - to build cross site relationships, common language, and consistent pedagogical practice and services to ease the transition of students and their families across schools, and to ultimately to meet the district’s goal of having all students reach their potential and complete senior high school to go one to become creative, engaged citizens.  

The day’s goal, to begin that cross site relationship building and conversation to prepare for a whole group (400 people, all staff, all sites) learning event in six weeks, where they would be leading some of the sessions.

We began in World Cafe, with the assistant superintendent to which all these schools report, opening the day, giving an overview of the scope and intent of the reorg, emphasizing how this group was “ahead of the curve” in implementation, by the very fact they were meeting in this way.  Then two of the principals gave, in idiosyncratic, conversational style (no powerpoints!) their take on their work that brought us to the day, with the invitation that now this group would take it to the next level….whatever that might be!  Three questions for three rounds of conversation: 

  1. What grabbed your attention in what you’ve just heard? – has you want to jump in? or hesitate?
  2. How does this align with your current practice and what you already know?
  3. What does this mean for the big learning event in six weeks?

Themes surfaced and were explored in large group conversation, energy was stoked as staff realized they were steering the ship after having been told that the principals’ role was to be curious and to clarify, if needed – that they may or may not join in the conversations.  (Unusual as staff often  report feeling “managed” and monitored to “be on task” in such learning events.)

Then to other side of the room, set for Open Space.  Within 20 minutes, 12 questions were posted.  Conversations began and continued through lunch.  Principals spontaneously convened to share their observations, make meaning of the themes, and support each other in surrendering to the high energy chaos,  and their own uncertainty and loss of control.  They knew something different, and great was happening.  Their “boss” was taking it all in – amazing that he stayed most of the day as usually, one in his role would give greetings and be off.  He, too, knew he was seeing a manifestation of the reorg’s intent.

After lunch all re-convened to report back.  Convergence as themes became apparent in preparation for the next level of conversation: planning the big learning event.  The original plan was to have them meet in cross site, cross grade level subject groups.  “What about a group to give shape to the overall design?”  “What if we met to delve into the themes that surfaced from the Cafe?”  Why not do it all?  “Either-or” always moved to “both-and” – creating space -  the principals shared the “min specs” to frame that possibility.  In forty minutes, plans were hatched, commitments made.  Energy and engagement remained high.

All chairs in a circle, waiting to reconvene.  Patience after the bell rang and rang again,  everyone was still engrossed and still cooking.  Then with a quick prompt, fluidly each host shared their group’s ideas.  Clarifying questions and grounding responses.  Principals exclaiming that what had taken them weeks to plan, this group had accomplished in a day. 

Checking out via circle: ”What is an impression you’re taking…a question you’re sitting with?”  Every one spoke.  From the heart.

“The most engaged I’ve been in a professional learning event for many years.”

“I now know my students have a chance because I felt welcomed, that I had a voice around the table and I know they will, too.”

“Authentic, meaningful, real.”

“You empowered us to create something we know will appeal to our colleagues.”

“Can we do this over again with everyone?  Because this is the way to go!”

“I came in uncertain, expecting, needing the agenda, handouts, something practical to use tomorrow.  I’m now very grateful for how the day went.  For the space and freedom to really connect.”

“I’m doing a World Cafe with my Grade 12 students on Friday!”

My colleague wove technology in for the harvest, scribed key comments and took photos that we’ll use in a movie.  A “share site” was developed for the Open Space and subsequent planning conversation notes.  This will be an ongoing archive to seed next steps and hold ideas, artifacts and products, accessible to all within this catchment area, and most likely to be used at some later date cross district.

When I reflect on the day, its energy, joy, the possibilities realized and envisioned, I know trust played a big part:

  • The trust the principals had in themselves to “walk their talk” and share leadership; to trust in the power of the collective wisdom;
  • The trust they had in and with each other to share their vulnerabilities, their curiosity, their enthusiasm – to hold each other in  the day’s chaos through emergence to a viable “what next” plan – and to be transparent with their uncertainty: “We don’t have the answers, you do!”
  • The trust they had with their staff: “We’re co-creating this with you!”  “We’re three months in to a three year plan and you’re taking us to the next place.”
  • The trust they had in my colleague and me who hosted, stayed nimble and fluid, created and held space, helped them trust the process, and harvest the fruits of the our collective labours. 

And for me, a chance to re-turn to the work I love.  After my initial apprehension (it had been a good many months since I’d done this work), and acknowledgment that my anxiety was mirroring theirs, I was as jazzed, and knew again of the deep yearning we all have to be invited into a space of genuine and meaningful conversation, powerful questions, deep listening, to take wise action. 

Of note too, it was the first day I felt no pain at work.  “That’s because you were working with people who love you,” remarked one of the principals, a friend I love for her straight talk.  Yes that, and having the chance to do the work I love.

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Sharing Joy and Sorrow: From One Dog Lover to Another

Below is the email I sent yesterday to the host of my favourite radio program, CKUA’s The Road Home.

Belated, and nonetheless sincere condolences…to you on Hershey’s passing, Bob.

It’s taken me a bit to write, as Hershey’s passing reminded me of the not-so-long-ago passing of our sixteen year old, Lady dog in mid July.

A sporting English Setter, she came to us at five years, with as many “homes” in those years.  Understandably aloof, yet gentle, with a real survivor’s instinct as she foraged all the berries in the back yard – mayday, rosehip, dogwood and raspberry.  Those instincts helped her survive a five day “romp” on the Saskatchewan prairie when she ran off after a field trial.

I promised her we’d be her “forever family,” and so, was grateful to her strong spirit that she stayed alive until I returned from three months travelling in Europe.  Even then, as my husband anticipated, she would not leave easy… knowing the good life and love we’d given her.  Our joy, our privilege, really.  Several times we wondered “is this the time?” and she would rally, ever alert, always enjoying her food.

When I returned to Canada the end of May, I resumed my practice of listening to The Road Home, wondering all the while on the health of your ancient being. I took great heart in knowing Hershey, at eighteen, was still alive.  And was deeply touched by the tribute you gave her in that special episode.  Could there have been a more perfect poem in Mary Oliver’s???

As a member of this curious and compassionate community that convenes most weekday evenings or mornings to partake of The Road Home, I, too, was touched by the messages you received, and felt a need to offer my own.

Thank you, again, for what you have created, for what you offer that adds such richness and resonance for so many of us, here and abroad.

Namaste.

Posted in Community, Creativity, Myth and Story | Tagged , | 2 Comments

A Quiet Miracle

Summer in November

Yesterday I received an email from a poetry site I recently subscribed to, Panhala.  Whenever I “google” for my favourite David Whyte, or Mary Oliver, or John O’Donohue poem, this site comes to my rescue, with the poem, a lovely photo and sometimes a bit of music. 

Yesterday, this is what I received…a reminder… a “quiet miracle” given what and how I was feeling at the moment I clicked “open.”

For Presence

 Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.

 Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.

 Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.

 Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to
follow its path.

 Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity.

 May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame.

 May anxiety never linger about you.

 May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of
soul.

Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek
no attention.

Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.

 May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven
around the heart of wonder.

 ~ John O’Donohue ~

Posted in Emergence, Mindfulness, Vocation | 2 Comments

You Cannot Make a Mistake

My first process painting workshop where I was guided by Natalia Rosenfeld.  I still hear her lovely Russian lyrical voice tenderly, playfully coaxing us into our Point Zero: “You cannot make a mistake.”  Last Sunday, hosting my second “Painting From Within” session, I reminded the eight curious adventurers with that same invocation. 

 “What would you paint if you could be free? Outrageous? Bad?”

“What would you paint if you had nothing to lose?”

“What would you paint if you were a child?”

White paper quickly became covered in colour, brush stroke, shape and form.  From the safety of the abstract emerged self portraits.  Preoccupation with soft colours became an urgency to those vivid and bold. 

“It’s just a piece of paper.”

“It doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Put it away and start anew.”

Energy ebbed and flowed as mind moved aside for intuition’s lead. 

“You cannot make a mistake.”

Trust trumped thought.

PS – If you’re curious, see my EVENTS page for details.  I’ve got a Waitlist for the January Sunday Session, space for the February Winter Weekend and have just booked several spring sessions.  I’d love to have you join us in the adventure!

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Playing with Emergence

Yesterday in a colleague’s office, as I waited to see her, I scanned the books on a low shelf. While the light was soft, and I didn’t retrieve my eyeglasses, several titles came into view, some more prominent than others.  Within moments, the following emerged (titles in itallics):

Upon leaving my father’s house, I danced the only dance there is, on the way to the wedding.  With seven arrows and the courage to heal, I pierced shadow and evil in the the fairy tales I had been told.  Stories for the third eye emerged.  Healing voices whispered the truth that every person’s life is worth a novel.

Today in preparation for a meeting, I wisely grabbed my tiny box of watercolours and an unlined index card on which to paint, and give myself space amidst the conversations.  Within minutes this is what emerged:

Trusting the unknown and from that place, emergence…the coherence from the disruption…the pattern from the chaos.  Small scale, yes, but the lesson remains the same.

Posted in Creativity, Emergence, Myth and Story, Process Painting | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

My One Day

“On a scale from one to seven, with one being a really great day, and seven in the pits, how was your day, today?” 

So began last night’s check-in for our monthly community of practice gathering.  I sat in circle, surrounded by the deep garnet and golden hues of my friend’s living room, softly lit by candles, reflected on my day, and when my turn came, I announced “One!” and said why.

I had made a snap decision driving to work yesterday morning to veer right and head towards the high school hosting our district’s second annual “Create in 8.” I wanted to support my colleague, the new arts consultant, who with a small group of her colleagues, had originated the event last year.  I needed to be in a school and experience the high energy of our students engaged in what I intuited would be an example of creative emergence. 

Each high school art teacher brought ten students from grades 10 – 12, who were then organized into cross-site teams to create art in 8 hours.  The entire floor of the gym was covered in heavy -duty purple plastic.  Rows of team stations were composed of tables and supplies, and chart paper taped to the floor served as their design boards.  Extra tables held bottles of acrylic and tempera paints in every colour imaginable, glitter, colourful cotton beading thread, buttons, beads, and gel pens to embellish their “Create in 8” wordcloud t-shirts. 

The stage was filled with boxes and bags of random materials which became available to one member only of each team at announced times, adding to the creative tension. The school’s video arts teacher and former drama buff masterfully held court.  Local media were on hand to film the event.  The teachers had their own project station and in that way, held space by modeling collaboration and not influencing the students’ work.  Techno rock thumped into the spaces as the kids nervously said hello to their team-mates and then opened the envelopes with the theme and instructions – a three dimensional depiction of “re-imagining their life.”  Let the games begin!

When stacks of pizza boxes arrived at noon to feed the masses, and I, chilled to the bone (the gym was cold!) but filled with ideas on how to re-jig this for leaders wanting to understand emergence, left to head off to the official opening of my district’s Aboriginal Resource Centre.  I arrived to the fragrance of sweet grass from the morning’s pipe ceremony, and the soft words of the elder concluding his prayers.  After all the greetings from all the dignitaries, we were invited to view rooms filled with artifacts, books, and learning resources and partake in stories from our First Nations, Métis and Inuit cultures.  It was a proud day for my colleagues, after a long labor of love to realize this dream, and I was honoured to be present to offer my support and congratulations. 

Then I had a quiet hour to myself as I waited for my friend at our dinner spot, the Parkallen, now beautifully renovated featuring an award-winning wine wall, while maintaining its historic trademark Lebanese cuisine.  We shared their famous “fattoush” salad and soujick (spicy Lebanese sausages in a coriander sauce with tomatoes) with warm pita.  Our waiter poured generous glasses of a soft and full Italian red.  Our corner table warm and cozy, the satellite jazz station unobtrusive and mellow, and our conversation as soul satisfying as our meal.

I spoke in circle about all of this, and too, the gratitude for having recognized my need and summoning a few years back for a circle, and now receiving its genuine and kind camaraderie, one that inspires, sustains and last night, even provokes and perturbs me into being and bringing my best, “out there.”

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Saving My Life

Last Sunday I hosted five curious friends at my first ever process-painting workshop.   Called “Painting from Within: A Genus of Originality…Yours,” – delighted to recycle the tagline from my very first business card – I made true the dream of bringing this creative experience to my practice and community.  Another one of those intuitive journeys, first begun when I found Michele Cassou’s book, Life, Paint, and Passion for $2.00 at my workplace’s semi-annual book sale.  Its bold and bright cover illustration and title pulled at something deep inside, though the book sat on my shelf for a few more years, until one warm and sunny August day, during a particularly rich period of self-directed study in the sanctuary of my back yard, it again called to me.

Within minutes of its reading, I instantly recognized the brilliance of Cassou’s life’s work in codifying how to help people dive into their unique “Point Zero,” that deep wellspring of creativity and intuition. Immediately I went online to search for workshops, with the intention of studying with her.  Synchronicity was not lost on me: that of all the places hosting workshops, one would be held in the very town where “The Scientist” and I had lived before moving west.  It took a few years more for the stars and my work schedule to align, and then I began my yearly sojourns to Elora, Ontario, to study under the guidance of Michele’s assistant, Natalia Rosenfeld, to have the prerequisite hours to attend Michele’s Master Class in Taos, New Mexico exactly a year ago, during my leave.  Then a spontaneous weekend of painting with Kathrin Franckenberg at her workshop in Cologne, Germany this spring helped me jump into the fire to bring this experience home. 

Much like my decision to host “Story Slam in the Park” a few years ago, I found the right space one day while walking my Peggy dog.  A beautiful, bright and spacious community hall, that’s morphing into an artists’ studio for workshops and showings, with its own gallery loft, a short walk from home and down the street from Café Haven where we’d go for lunch. 

I reserved the dates, three “Sunday Sessions” and a winter weekend workshop in February, paid the rent, and bought the supplies: paper and jugs of liquid tempera, palettes and brushes, rugs and drop sheets, and snacks.  I designed the poster-invitation, and sent it out to my networks, posted it on my sites.  It’s striking a chord.  People are signed up.  It’s my own “Field of Dreams,” wherein I build it and they come.  And throughout the planning and preparation, I’ve felt only joy, no worry, except to make sure the system I concocted to protect the painting stands worked.

Last Sunday, I arrived very early to give myself ample time for this first set-up in a new space.  Within minutes of being finished, each painter arrived and we began, as is customary, in circle, where I welcomed them and gave an introduction to the Point Zero method, my journey, and some simple guiding principles.  I shared that we were being held by well wishers from Portland, OR, Denver, CO, and by my German “sister-painter,” Kathrin, who emailed that she’d be “sending a lot of playful and joyful energy across the ocean to you – and your new painting friends.”  And then they each took their places in front of the empty white paper, brushes soaked and poised to move to the paint table where intuition would begin to take over as they quickly dipped into the colour that called, and ignored the mind that preferred.  With their open hearts and playful spirits, not really knowing what to expect, they each accepted every invitation to step deeper and deeper into their own Point Zero. 

During the week, as I’ve sat with and steeped in this my first experience hosting and guiding, I now know why it was so crucial for me to make this offering.  I was charged with creating a safe and effective environment, inviting possibility, challenging inner rules and limitations.  I held space for intuition to be tested and trusted.  I witnessed creativity emerge, energy become light and enlivened.  And in return, I became light, enlivened, free and spacious;  in contrast to a constricted, rule-bound and fearful atmosphere right now in other places. 

As I drove to work one morning, as the sun rose and I took solace in the sky, it dawned on me that I was saving my own life through these weekend excursions into the mysterious and magnificent unknown of the Point Zero.  I recalled the last stanza of Mary Oliver’s poem, The Journey:

…But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice,

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do-

determined to save

the only life you could save.

PS – There is a couple of spaces in the upcoming November 27 and January 22 Sunday Sessions, and several in the February 24-26 weekend workshop.  Go to the EVENTS page for details.  I’d love to have you join us.

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