We shared a meal together, recalling rituals from our childhoods–mealtime prayers both serious and comical, night-time prayers.  We talked a little about memory itself and its function in our lives.  Most people were in their fifties and above, so reflection on the past came easily.  I described my grandfather’s practice of “returning thanks”–a second prayer–at the end of a big family meal.  Someone in the class said, “That is a German tradition.”

Again we divided the workshop into two parts.  I will detail them below.  Anyone could duplicate the process.  Feel free!

I.  This exercise was taken from Tristine Rainer’s book Your Life as Story: Draw the floor plan of the favorite house you lived in as a child.  Imagine yourself coming toward the house, open the door, enter, look around.  What do you see inside?  What do you remember about living here?  “Place yourself inside this room and allow your writing to go where it will, exploring your feelings and thoughts at the age you were when you lived in this house, concentrating on your interaction with the other people in the house.”  Reflect, remember, and then write rapidly for 5-7 minutes.  Share your writing with the group if you wish.

II.  Choose a biblical or hymn text that has meaning for you.  Chew on it lectio divina style.  Then write rapdily for 5-7 minutes.  Share voluntarily.  Discuss.

This simple structure allowed us to become a community in just a few hours.  Most of us knew each other, some for quite a while.  But some folks knew only one or two people in the room.  The conversation hummed.  We laughed and were touched by each others’ wisdom.  Something magic guides the pen when body, mind, and spirit concentrate on collective meaning making.  Psalm 91 will always be Carolyn’s psalm for me from now on.  I will ponder Karen’s comment on how writing within a group brings out thoughts we might never have on our own.  And I will remember the look of loving attention on the faces of each person as they listened to each other.

We celebrated our entwined lives the way Grandpa would have liked–by returning thanks.

Each participant will receive a Moleskine notebook, “the legendary notebook” of Hemingway and Picasso.  Watch out world–the writers of the Fetzer Institute are getting serious!

I am trying to go deeper with my understanding of this famous quote, which I loved from the time I first read it in Letters to a Young Poet.  Like most mothers, especially those who are also teachers, I find advice-giving comes naturally to me.  If I learn something, my immediate desire is to share it.  This enthusiasm for learning and sharing can sometimes be counterproductive to the goal of transformation.   We can’t learn as well from second-hand experience as we can from immediate experiences of our own.  The secret to great teaching and to great community building is to ask the right questions.

Rilke’s famous advice to the young poet–live the questions–came alive in our program staff meeting yesterday.  Using Peter Block’s book on community as a guide, we worked together to answer the kinds of questions that Block recommends.

Many questions people ask in groups are directed at placing blame (e.g., “how do we get people to be more responsible?”), and especially at projecting it outward.  Good questions carry commitment for the individual to examine his or her own mind, heart, and spirit.  Block says a great question contains three qualities:

1.  it is ambiguous.  Meaning is assigned by the listener, not the asker.

2.  It is personal.  Questions derive power from the passion of personal connection and commitment.

3.  It evokes anxiety.  Here is a Peter Block sentence worth pondering a long time:  “It is our wish to escape from anxiety that steals our aliveness”(106).

I believe Rilke would like these three characteristics of great questions.  I want to spend the weekend pondering what kinds of questions to ask my class on Monday afternoon.  What will awaken enough personal connection, ambiguity, and anxiety to be useful?

I regret that I never met John Fetzer before he died.  But I meet his ideas every day.  He loved to learn and to help others learn.  He read voraciously and talked with scientists, philosophers, theologians, and ordinary people who had extraordinary experiences.  He was especially interested in metaphysics.  “Love is the core energy that rules everything,” he wrote in the 1970′s.  Our mission today, ” to foster awareness of the power of love and forgiveness in the emerging global community,” is based on his vision.

So how does the founder’s vision connect with the upcoming workshop?  First of all, it is just one set of gatherings within the context of our organizational learning philosophy.  In the last four years we have offered employees the opportunity to attend workshops on science, spiritual practices, and wellness.  This short series will be just one more opportunity for those with an interest to meet with others equally curious.

Secondly, it allows me, a teacher at heart, to practice the art that first called me.  One of my mentors and friends, Parker Palmer, has long been involved in the work of the Fetzer Institute.  His definition of teaching will guide me:  To teach is to create a space in which the community of truth is practiced.  Here is his classic text.

I will describe the workshop as I continue to reflect on how to begin it.

Since it is time to go to work, I will conclude and pick up from this point tomorrow.  I want to get to work early enough to spend at least a little time in the meditation room, practicing what I hope to live today.