[Announce] Interhelp Update, January 2009
announce@interhelpnetwork.org
announce@interhelpnetwork.org
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Interhelp Update, January 2009
Dear Interhelpers and Friends,
I'm pleased to report that our 2008 Interhelp Gathering, held in
November, was a great success. Thirty of us journeyed together the
spiral of Gratitude, Honoring our Pain for the World, Seeing with
Fresh Eyes, and Going Forth. Here are a couple of reflections, each
one from a first-time participant:
I treasure the memory of entering into a world of mostly strangers,
and being welcomed with smiles and hugs and acceptance. It was very
clear that most people knew each other, so it is a great testament to
the spirit of Interhelp and the individuals who make it up, and to
the careful planning of the Council, that I felt included beginning
to end. I also appreciated the modeling of group leadership, handled
with grace and humor.
+++
The night after the Gathering, I was to teach the Nonviolent
Communication class at my church. After we did the exercises from our
chapter, our main teacher whipped out her new game Empathy Poker,
which teaches another NVC exercise. One person has a deck of cards
with the basic human needs printed on them, and the other players
have cards with names of different feelings on them. The first person
puts on the table the needs that got met in a situation s/he is
visualizing, and the others put out cards as they ask, Are you
feeling x because your need y was met? (Example: are you feeling
thrilled that your need for recognition got met?) I was looking at my
deck and thinking of needs that got met on the weekend, and I must
have put down 20 different cards. I was amazed. No wonder I was
feeling so good!
Otherwise I would say: I don't know when I have ever met a group of
such mature, integrated people, who have such wisdom. This is beyond
the partnership of head and heart to some sense of original unity.
On another note, I was thrilled to receive a beautifully written
account from Jay Goldspinner about her experience co-creating a
Council of All Beings this past fall in Massachusetts. This Update
concludes with her story, reprinted in full. (Submissions to this
newsletter are always welcome.)
On behalf of the members of Interhelp Council, I wish each of you a
New Year bright with blessings.
Paula Hendrick
<mailto:editor@interhelpnetwork.org>editor@interhelpnetwork.org
An ongoing gathering in the Boston area has grown out of our recent
Interhelp Gathering. Meetings are held at the home of Pam Kristan and
Brad Brockmann in Jamaica Plain. For more info and to get on the
announcement list, contact Pam at pam@pamelakristan.com .
+++
Once again, Chris Johnstone, editor of the online Great Turning
Times, combines inspiration and practicality in the editorial to the
current issue. See his reflections on the "I can't see that
happening" phenomenon at
<http://www.greatturningtimes.org/current.asp>http://www.greatturningtimes.org/current.asp).
He also suggests a way to include the entire spiral in the course of
an evening talk:
At a talk I gave recently, I asked people to divide in pairs and
listen to each other completing the following sentences.
"Things I love about our world include..."
"Concerns I have about our world include..."
"A perspective I find inspiring or refreshing is..."
"Steps I can take to participate in the Great Turning include..."
This was a short and simple way of moving [through the spiral]. With
two minutes for each sentence, it took about ten minutes each way,
yet the process deeply touched many of those present.
I can imagine this process working well, so long as material
presented before the exercise includes some stimulation for Seeing
with Fresh Eyes.
Chris also reminds us we can watch Joanna Macy guiding the Work that
Reconnects workshop process online at
<http://www.turntowardlife.tv/joanna_macy_workshop_video/about.htm>http://www.turntowardlife.tv/joanna_macy_workshop_video/about.htm
+++
Finally, I recommend Terry Tempest Williams' new book, Finding Beauty
in a Broken World, an account of her experiences learning about
prairie dogs, volunteering in Rwanda, and studying with a mosaic
artisrt in Italy. Reflections on art and activism, suffering and
love, bewilderment and hope, simply and beautifully expressed.
Council of All Beings
Jay Goldspinner
The day is cool and says, "I'm just staying overnight."
Hymn to Life, James Schuyler
The days were cool, chilly even, and the nights, notwithstanding the
bright-orange flames of the campfire in the black darkness, were so
cold that sitting at the fire I thought my toes would freeze. But
"I'm just staying overnight" was the signifier. We were in this
together, for two nights and parts of three days; our little group of
seven people, a leader/guide and six students, some in their late
teens, some in their forties, a septuagenarian - that was me. It
didn't matter that I was sleeping in a bed in a house and others were
in tents or cabins, one in a sleeping bag and tarp under the stars.
We were creating the experience together, sharing food and
conversation and lives and chores; opening ourselves to each other
and to the natural world around us; recalling our evolution from
so-called nonliving substances to the tiny cells who "came to life"
and on through the ages to plants and animals and human beings; then
going out to connect with an entity - a tree, an animal, a stream -
and coming back to create a mask to represent the being who had
chosen us, and finally, in the Council of All Beings, gathering
together in a circle to speak out as our entities, to be heard by
each other and by the humans we became when in turn we laid aside our
masks and listened.
Sent out into the woods to find my Being, I went down an
overgrown trail which had been much more used a few years ago. I was
thinking how things had changed since I first came here. Then I
noticed down a slope off to my right some large quarried stone slabs
lying across each other. They had once been - what? A root cellar? A
well? The stones were too big, not the right shape for a well. Surely
it wasn't a sacred cave, like ones I have found in other parts of the
Valley and surrounding hills? I scrambled down to examine the pile of
slabs and concluded it was a structure built by people, now in ruins.
It was not the Being I sought. Yet there was something about it.
At the bottom of the hill the track gave out among high
weeds, no longer crossing the earth dam which had held back the water
of the small pond I had known from years ago. The drained pond was
now a shallow depression, swampy in spots, with a curving narrow rift
- the stream that had fed the pond - running through it. Missing the
pond, I crossed its bed, only slightly wetting my boots, and climbed
up the bank on the other side.
A few feet farther up the hill, there it stood, waiting for
me - the enormous blackened trunk of a dead tree, its broken-off
place more than a dozen feet over my head, one great shoulder and arm
stretching out on the high side of the trunk, where it had fallen.
Thick pieces of the furrowed bark were scattered around; moss and
lichen, creepy crawlies and creatures too small to see were making
these tree-bits their home; all was changing, decaying, turning into
other forms of life-and-death intermingled. I felt a sadness and a
triumph of spirit in this living/not-living being that I had once
known in the fullness of its tree-power, rooted in the earth,
reaching toward the sky, green leaves on its branches that turned to
gold and fell to the ground only to be renewed again the next year
and the next. Often in the spring I had found hepatica blooming
beside the great trunk in a spot that was now a gaping hole.
I knew the moment I saw it that the Dark Snag (as standing
dead trees are called in an English folk tale I know) was my Being,
the one who was calling me to speak for it. And I realized afterward
that I was called to speak for that larger class of beings which have
become something else, are not what they used to be: the stone slabs
that were once a man-built structure, the damp valley that was once a
pond, the dark snag who had been a giant living tree.
But the Dark Snag, the Dead Tree, is particularly my
challenger, for I am trying to come to terms with Death. Death has
always been an important character in my stories and my thinking; it
is even more so now that many people dear to me have died and my only
brother is nearer to death than before. I am trying to understand
Death in Life, Death as part of Life. Lynn Margulis says there is no
Death because Life stretches in an unbroken strand for four billion
years from its earliest beginnings.
And I am trying to face the enormous changes that are coming,
that have already come to our human society and to the earth on which
we live, of which we are a part. I am trying to see the beautiful as
well as the terrible. To not despair. To keep going.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
To unsubscribe from this Interhelp Network update list, send an email
to craig at interhelpnetwork dot org or visit
http://www.interhelpnetwork.org/mailman/listinfo/announce
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<br>
<div align="center">Interhelp Update, January 2009<br><br>
</div>
Dear Interhelpers and Friends,<br><br>
I'm pleased to report that our 2008 Interhelp Gathering, held in
November, was a great success. Thirty of us journeyed together the spiral
of Gratitude, Honoring our Pain for the World, Seeing with Fresh Eyes,
and Going Forth. Here are a couple of reflections, each one from a
first-time participant:<br><br>
<i>I treasure the memory of entering into a world of mostly strangers,
and being welcomed with smiles and hugs and acceptance. It was very
clear that most people knew each other, so it is a great testament to the
spirit of Interhelp and the individuals who make it up, and to the
careful planning of the Council, that I felt included beginning to end. I
also appreciated the modeling of group leadership, handled with grace and
humor.<br><br>
</i>+++<br><br>
<i>The night after the Gathering, I was to teach the Nonviolent
Communication class at my church. After we did the exercises from our
chapter, our main teacher whipped out her new game Empathy Poker, which
teaches another NVC exercise. One person has a deck of cards with the
basic human needs printed on them, and the other players have cards with
names of different feelings on them. The first person puts on the table
the needs that got met in a situation s/he is visualizing, and the others
put out cards as they ask, Are you feeling x because your need y was met?
(Example: are you feeling thrilled that your need for recognition got
met?) I was looking at my deck and thinking of needs that got met on the
weekend, and I must have put down 20 different cards. I was amazed. No
wonder I was feeling so good! <br><br>
Otherwise I would say: I don't know when I have ever met a group of such
mature, integrated people, who have such wisdom. This is beyond the
partnership of head and heart to some sense of original unity.<br><br>
</i>On another note, I was thrilled to receive a beautifully written
account from Jay Goldspinner about her experience co-creating a Council
of All Beings this past fall in Massachusetts. This Update concludes with
her story, reprinted in full. (Submissions to this newsletter are always
welcome.)<br><br>
On behalf of the members of Interhelp Council, I wish each of you a New
Year bright with blessings.<br><br>
Paula Hendrick<br><br>
<font color="#0000FF"><u><a href="mailto:editor@interhelpnetwork.org">
editor@interhelpnetwork.org</a><br><br>
<br>
</u></font>An ongoing gathering in the Boston area has grown out of our
recent Interhelp Gathering. Meetings are held at the home of Pam Kristan
and Brad Brockmann in Jamaica Plain. For more info and to get on the
announcement list, contact Pam at
<font color="#0000CC">pam@pamelakristan.com </font>.<br><br>
+++<br><br>
Once again, Chris Johnstone, editor of the online <i>Great Turning
Times</i>, combines inspiration and practicality in the editorial to the
current issue. See his reflections on the "I can't see that
happening" phenomenon at
<a href="http://www.greatturningtimes.org/current.asp">
<font color="#0000FF"><u>http://www.greatturningtimes.org/current.asp</a>
</u></font>). He also suggests a way to include the entire spiral in the
course of an evening talk:<br><br>
<i>At a talk I gave recently, I asked people to divide in pairs and
listen to each other completing the following sentences. <br><br>
"Things I love about our world include..." <br><br>
"Concerns I have about our world include..." <br><br>
"A perspective I find inspiring or refreshing is..." <br><br>
"Steps I can take to participate in the Great Turning
include..." <br><br>
This was a short and simple way of moving [through the spiral]. With two
minutes for each sentence, it took about ten minutes each way, yet the
process deeply touched many of those present.<br><br>
</i>I can imagine this process working well, so long as material
presented before the exercise includes some stimulation for Seeing with
Fresh Eyes.<br><br>
Chris also reminds us we can watch Joanna Macy guiding the Work that
Reconnects workshop process online at
<a href="http://www.turntowardlife.tv/joanna_macy_workshop_video/about.htm">
<font color="#0000FF"><u>
http://www.turntowardlife.tv/joanna_macy_workshop_video/about.htm</a><br>
<br>
</u></font>+++<br><br>
Finally, I recommend Terry Tempest Williams' new book, <i>Finding Beauty
in a Broken World</i>, an account of her experiences learning about
prairie dogs, volunteering in Rwanda, and studying with a mosaic artisrt
in Italy. Reflections on art and activism, suffering and love,
bewilderment and hope, simply and beautifully expressed.<br><br>
<br><br>
<div align="center"><b>Council of All Beings<br><br>
</b>Jay Goldspinner <br><br>
<i>The day is cool and says, “I’m just staying overnight.”<br>
Hymn to Life</i>, James Schuyler <br><br>
</div>
The days were cool, chilly even, and the nights, notwithstanding the
bright-orange flames of the campfire in the black darkness, were so cold
that sitting at the fire I thought my toes would freeze. But “I’m just
staying overnight” was the signifier. We were in this together, for two
nights and parts of three days; our little group of seven people, a
leader/guide and six students, some in their late teens, some in their
forties, a septuagenarian - that was me. It didn’t matter that I was
sleeping in a bed in a house and others were in tents or cabins, one in a
sleeping bag and tarp under the stars. <br><br>
We were creating the experience
together, sharing food and conversation and lives and chores; opening
ourselves to each other and to the natural world around us; recalling our
evolution from so-called nonliving substances to the tiny cells who “came
to life” and on through the ages to plants and animals and human beings;
then going out to connect with an entity - a tree, an animal, a stream -
and coming back to create a mask to represent the being who had chosen
us, and finally, in the Council of All Beings, gathering together in a
circle to speak out as our entities, to be heard by each other and by the
humans we became when in turn we laid aside our masks and
listened.<br><br>
Sent out into the woods to find my
Being, I went down an overgrown trail which had been much more used a few
years ago. I was thinking how things had changed since I first came here.
Then I noticed down a slope off to my right some large quarried stone
slabs lying across each other. They had once been - what? A root cellar?
A well? The stones were too big, not the right shape for a well. Surely
it wasn’t a sacred cave, like ones I have found in other parts of the
Valley and surrounding hills? I scrambled down to examine the pile of
slabs and concluded it was a structure built by people, now in ruins. It
was not the Being I sought. Yet there was something about it. <br><br>
At the bottom of the hill the track
gave out among high weeds, no longer crossing the earth dam which had
held back the water of the small pond I had known from years ago. The
drained pond was now a shallow depression, swampy in spots, with a
curving narrow rift - the stream that had fed the pond - running through
it. Missing the pond, I crossed its bed, only slightly wetting my boots,
and climbed up the bank on the other side. <br><br>
A few feet farther up the hill,
there it stood, waiting for me - the enormous blackened trunk of a dead
tree, its broken-off place more than a dozen feet over my head, one great
shoulder and arm stretching out on the high side of the trunk, where it
had fallen. Thick pieces of the furrowed bark were scattered around; moss
and lichen, creepy crawlies and creatures too small to see were making
these tree-bits their home; all was changing, decaying, turning into
other forms of life-and-death intermingled. I felt a sadness and a
triumph of spirit in this living/not-living being that I had once known
in the fullness of its tree-power, rooted in the earth, reaching toward
the sky, green leaves on its branches that turned to gold and fell to the
ground only to be renewed again the next year and the next. Often in the
spring I had found hepatica blooming beside the great trunk in a spot
that was now a gaping hole. <br><br>
I knew the moment I saw it that the
Dark Snag (as standing dead trees are called in an English folk tale I
know) was my Being, the one who was calling me to speak for it. And I
realized afterward that I was called to speak for that larger class of
beings which have become something else, are not what they used to be:
the stone slabs that were once a man-built structure, the damp valley
that was once a pond, the dark snag who had been a giant living tree.
<br><br>
But the Dark Snag, the Dead Tree, is
particularly my challenger, for I am trying to come to terms with Death.
Death has always been an important character in my stories and my
thinking; it is even more so now that many people dear to me have died
and my only brother is nearer to death than before. I am trying to
understand Death in Life, Death as part of Life. Lynn Margulis says there
is no Death because Life stretches in an unbroken strand for four billion
years from its earliest beginnings. <br><br>
And I am trying to face the enormous
changes that are coming, that have already come to our human society and
to the earth on which we live, of which we are a part. I am trying to see
the beautiful as well as the terrible. To not despair. To keep going.
<br><br>
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br>
To unsubscribe from this Interhelp Network update list, send an email to
craig at interhelpnetwork dot org or visit
<a href="http://www.interhelpnetwork.org/mailman/listinfo/announce" eudora="autourl">
http://www.interhelpnetwork.org/mailman/listinfo/announce<br>
</a></body>
<br>
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