Tag: community

Opening Questions

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“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” – Aesop

Recently my daughter, nine-year-old Miss O, and I were at our neighborhood grocery store. When we went through the check out line, Miss O asked the clerk, “How’s your day going?”

The genuine question worked instantly. It was as if a light went on inside the young woman. She answered, “Busy, but in a good way so that the day goes fast.”

Miss O responded, “I like your purple hair.”

It reminded me of a wonderful podcast conversation that Vicki and I recently had with blogger, parent, and social justice advocate, Ab, about finding our people.

Ab tells us the great story of a chance encounter he had with a woman standing next to him and his family in an hour-long line. She led with a query and Ab answered with his trademark humor and openness.

Vicki and I delve into how these encounters can be very different from what we imagine when we genuinely lean into them.

Ab talks about the loneliness epidemic and how the antidote to negative feelings and isolation is connection. While finding your people isn’t always easy, it’s facilitated by having an open-heart.

We explore how sometimes we’re in the prison of our own thoughts and how human connection breaks us out of that loop and facilitates kindness.  

This is such a fascinating episode. I love the kinship we have with Ab. And he’s so good at illustrating how community is where kindness and empathy happens. It’s where we have the opportunity to support each other and create deep relationships.

I’m confident you’ll love the scenic and beautiful places we explore as we share the power of storytelling about finding our people.

We know you’ll love it!

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor: Episode 95: Finding Our People with Ab

HoTM Episode 95 transcript

AND subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this Episode:

Sharing the Heart of the Matter Episode 95 show notes

Ab’s Blog: My life with T

Ab’s post: Hiking Takakkaw Falls and Canoeing Emerald Lake at Yoho National Park

The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community’s 2023 report “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation”  

The Human Library Movement

From the hosts:

Vicki’s book about resilience and love: Surviving Sue; Blog: https://victoriaponders.com/

My book about my beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith;

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Feeling of Community

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“The deep irony, in order to be social, we first have to be individual.” – Nicholas Christakis

This was originally published on 2/16/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

When I was climbing mountains, I’d regularly sign up for a guided climbing trips, sometimes with a friend and sometimes by myself. It was a great way to travel and also get to climb a mountain or two. Typically we’d all converge in a meeting place and do the initial meet and greet and then go from there.

The groups of people that would come together were always interesting. I’m thinking about a particular climb of two volcanoes in Mexico. We all flew to Mexico City where we met our guides and fellow climbers before riding in a van to the base of Mt. Ixtacchuatl for our first climb.

The group was mostly Americans but otherwise there wasn’t an easily defined demographic, not gender, education level, personality type other than love of mountains.  On this particular trip, there were very outgoing people like my friend, Jill, and man named Trent who loved to talk and help anyone with anything. Most of the group was like Paul from Greenfield, NY who was really nice to talk to but more reserved about initiating conversations. There was our guide, Phil, who like to just spit out wisdom or quips in one line but not talk endlessly (e.g. “Watch out Jill, that guy has more moves than an earthquake.”)

As we went around doing introductions, one man named John stated very clearly, “I don’t like people. I’m just here to climb the mountains.”  Which was fine because that’s what we were there to do.

We summitted the first mountain, Mt Ixtacchuatl (17,338 feet) on October 31 and then headed down to celebrate the Day of the Dead in Puebla. After a day of rest, we started up our second mountain, Mt. Orizaba (18,491 feet).

After being dropped by trucks on the mountain, we spent the evening in a hut. At this point, we’d been together as a group for about 5 days and we were having a great time and working together pretty well as a team. The guy that didn’t like people was a very good climber and mostly stayed to himself, grabbing his share of dinner and finding a quiet place to eat it.

Around midnight, we got up from the few hours of rest we’d gotten and started preparing for our summit attempt in the dark using the light of our headlamps. We climbed steadily in the dark for about 6 hours until we reached an exposed couloir. We paused as the guides tried to get some ice screws deep enough into the fractious ice to secure our trip across the steep gully. Eventually we realized that the conditions wouldn’t allow us to cross safely over that part of the mountain and our summit bid had ended.

As we sat on the mountain watching the sun come up in no hurry to get anywhere, John, the climber who didn’t like people, pulled off his boot and found a Payday bar. He’d put the candy bar in his boot while preparing in the dark and then forgotten to take out. After being climbed on for 6 hours, it was shaped like an orthodic. He pulled it out, showed it around and we all had a good laugh alongside him as we imagined the journey of that candy bar. Even John enjoyed for that moment being part of a group that understood the crazy things that happen on a climb.

That particular event created an idea of community for me. One where we don’t have to all be best friends or come out of our comfort zones but can still enjoy the camaraderie of a shared experience focused on a common interest.

(featured photo is mine of the group leaving the top of Mt. Ixtacchuatl)

Community

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“Know all the theories. Master all the techniques. But as you touch a human soul be just another human soul.“- Carl Jung

This was originally published on 4/20/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

This last weekend, I was out listening to live music for the first time in two years and suddenly the people, the place and the context overran me with a sublime feeling of community. I was with my brother and his wife. The lead singer of the blue grass group we were listening to went to high school with my brother so the audience was filled with many of his high school friends and families that I’ve known from 40 years ago.

The place stirred up this feeling of connection because it’s a community center in my neighborhood that holds classes, the farmers market in the summer and my daughter went to pre-school there.

And the context struck me because the last time I was in this performance hall, two years ago before the abrupt pandemic shutdown, it was for a story-telling night for all the kids of my daughter’s preschool and the same twinkle lights were hanging from the ceiling.

As a consultant, I work alone and as a single-parent, I parent alone. Although I see, email and text family and friends all the time, it’s different than being in a room filled with people listening, singing and clapping.

It reminded me of a powerful mediation led by my meditation teacher. We close our eyes and picture an aspen grove. We see the individual trees, the way they stand tall, the singular leaves that blow in the wind. Then as we focus on those trees and start to relate to them, we go underground and see how all the roots are connected. The health of an aspen grove is a web of interdependence because it’s one root system. They, like us, all come from One, and the image of separateness is just an illusion.

And so it was with my moment in the auditorium last weekend. It was if I have been going about spinning the threads of my life and then I received one beautiful moment of perspective that gave me a glimpse of how they all tie together. Which went beautifully with the music. Here’s the thread of a story about a couple spun through one of the band’s hit songs, Be Here Now by True North:

They were on their honeymoon, and the bride said to the groom

I just can’t forget the dream I had last night.

I saw John, Paul, George and Ringo, In the church yard playing bingo on the gravestones

This is how the groom replied:

He said “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Make this a moment we will savor, and will put aside for later

We are young , our lives begun

But it will not last forever, they’ll be days we’re not together

So be here now.”

They’re in their middle years, pretty deep in their careers

And he called her from the plane in Amsterdam

I just heard John, Paul, George and Ringo , from that dusty old single on the muzak

It made me want to hold your hand

He said, “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Though our hearts still feel this hunger, we won’t get any younger

From the start our days were numbered

So be here now.”

It was after visiting hours

And he’d rearranged the flowers

And she hadn’t recognized him in a week

And the nurses heard him sing “Hey you’ve got to hide your love away”

And she opened up her eyes and began to speak

She said “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Every breath becomes a treasure, in my heart we’re young forever

My race is nearly run, I no longer feel the sun

But I can face whatever comes just…

Be here now.”

The word community is defined by Merriam Webster as “a unified body of individuals” – maybe because of living in a particular area, or a common interest, whether it be social, professional or religious. But community brings unity – a sense of togetherness.

As I was sitting in that audience last weekend, I felt the ease of collective energy in a room full of great music. The physical reminder that we are in this experience together and it was a thin place. Thin place as explained by Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal church as those places, moments, people, experiences when you get a sense, “Wait a minute, God just touched me.” Something beyond me just happened to me. Those moments when time is intersected by eternity.

As I got that tell-tale shiver, all I could think was “Be here now.”

I’ve written a related piece on the Wise & Shine blog about how community helps to make our writing findable: Promoting Your Writing With Search

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Flip Side of Writing

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“You think your pains and your heartbreaks are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who have ever been alive.” – James Baldwin

I think I’ve been ruminating for the past week or so about the idea of reading ever since I saw Davy D’s post What Kind of Reader Are You? Because when I woke up yesterday morning with no idea what I’d write about for my Wise & Shine post today, it popped in my head that what we all have in common on this platform is that we are readers.

Given the descriptions Davy provides, I relate to being a Skim Reader. When I was talking about this with my dear friend, she told me her husband who reads so thoroughly that the Kindle estimates about how much time is left to read a book actually go UP the longer he reads. They joke that the author must still be writing when her husband reads.

But whatever kind of reader we are, we create a space that we inhabit, even if briefly, with the author. My post today for Wise & Shine reflects on what a gift that is: The Ultimate Reader.

Our Capacity for Connection

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“Be a lamp or a lifeboat or a ladder.” – Rumi

Nicholas Christakis, sociologist from Yale, has this really hopeful view of humans based on our ability to interact and cooperate with others. He concedes that we can be violent, selfish, and tribal but in the long view of human history, which is what he studies, we have developed this beautiful social suite of capabilities. Here’s how he described this on the On Being podcast with Krista Tippett:

“And these capacities include, for instance, the fact that we love the people we’re having sex with. We form sentimental attachments to them. We are technically monogamous. We befriend each other. We form long-term, non-reproductive unions with other members of our species. This is exceedingly rare in the animal kingdom. We do it, certain other primates do it, elephants do it, certain cetacean species do it — we form friendships with unrelated people. It’s universal in human groups. We cooperate with each other, altruistically. We’re kind to strangers — again, to unrelated individuals. This is different than many other types of cooperation, which are also seen in other animal species, but often that cooperation is between genetically related individuals. We do it with genetically unrelated individuals. We teach each other things. People take this for granted, but it’s actually unbelievable.”

Nicholas Christakis on the On Being Podcast

When I get too focused on the news, and all the destructive and unkind things that make up those segments, I find it comforting to be reminded of Nicholas Christakis’ long view. It reminds me of the way that I can work in any given moment to make a difference.

“We teach each other things. People take this for granted, but it’s actually unbelievable.” – Nicholas Christakis

(featured photo from Pexels)

Called Out

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“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela

The other day I received a message from Mr. D’s preschool, “Good afternoon families. Since we have several new families who have recently joined us, I thought it might be a good time to remind everyone that our classrooms are parent free zones.”

Even though this message was sent to the about 45 families in the school and I’m not a new parent to the school, I knew this message was aimed at me. Because I love going in the classroom and getting to know the teachers, especially in the last couple weeks as Mr. D has moved up to a new classroom. These COVID years as a preschool parent have been tough and the drop-off at the door is the worst. Mr. D does fine but I suffer from lack of community and continuity when it comes to my darling son and the people important to him.

I could feel the shame creeping up my cheeks as I read the message. It was like I imagined they all got together and cooked up a message to nicely keep me out. Which is very ego-centric of me but I think not uncommon when we feel called out.

I think staying open to feedback is one of the biggest growth areas for me. Not shutting down with shame or defensiveness. Sitting openly long enough to feel the meaning and intent and then react. It’s a very meditative response to life for me instead of reactive.

As Victor Frankl said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.”

Freedom to find what need I was trying to meet, growth to expand into other ways to meet it, power to find my center and respond from that true space.

What I really want is to show affection and interest for the amazing people who are caring for and teaching my son. So I’ve written them all cards and put chocolate bars inside. It’s not perfect, but I find if I don’t wither from the shame of being called out then I can still engage and get to know them from afar.

How do you react when you feel called out? Any thoughts on the situations in which we can take our loved ones only so far and the rest they have to go on their own?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Want to Clip In?

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“You have a gift that only you can give the world – that’s the whole reason you’re on the planet.” – Oprah Winfrey

I saw this caption on Instagram from author and climber Jon Krakauer the other day.

“Today I watched the sun come up from this perch at 12,000 feet. It’s impossible to overstate how powerful experiences like this are for me, and how grateful I am to have such opportunities on our public lands.” – @krakauernotwriting

It reminded me of a story that my friend Doug told me. Doug was 15 or 16 years old climbing Mt. Hood in Oregon with his grandfather. They reached about 9,000 feet and his grandfather couldn’t climb any further. So he asked a passing rope team if his grandson could climb with them for the remaining 2,200 feet.

They agreed and Doug had a wonderful summit with these guys in their mid-20’s. When they returned to Doug’s grandfather, he thanked them for being willing to take Doug along. The rope leader said he’d done a great job and he was welcome to climb with them any time. Then he wrote his name down on a napkin and handed it to Doug. This is how I imagine it looked:

Doug never called the team leader – who was in fact THE Jon Krakauer who went on to write Into the Wild and Into Thin Air and many other great books (and climb some great routes). But in his own way, Jon Krakauer has been taking us along on his climbing adventures for 40 years. His passion for the outdoors and for writing has combined to bring us on his rope team for many years. And even when he’s not writing, according to his Instagram moniker, he’s sharing adventure with us and inspiring stewardship of this land.

A rope team usually has 5-6 people on it. The leader is most often the strongest climber or navigator, there’s usually someone on the team that organizes and keeps people together but everyone on the team works equally as hard and contributes to the safety and inspiration of all.

This idea of how we all contribute to the rope teams reminds me of what Nicholas Christakis, professor of sociology at Yale, says about his work studying the long view of human history. He’s deeply optimistic about our ability to cooperate, teach others and love because we are one of the only species that does that outside of the family structure.

As Oprah says in the quote for the post, we all have a gift we can give the world, a reason that we are on this planet. Oprah, Nicholas Christakis, Jon Krakauer – they are like the dream team of climbers reminding us all that when we share with our gifts with others, we make the world a better place. Want to clip in?

(featured photo is mine from Mt. Ixtacchuatl, Mexico)

Milestone Moment

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“The difference between winning and losing is most often not quitting.” – Walt Disney

I’m celebrating today. I’ve published a post every day for a year. And since late October of last year, I’ve also written a weekly post on the Pointless Overthinking blog as well. That’s about 400 posts total.

Looking back on the experience, I realize that what happened to me over the year was a far different thing than what I thought going into it.

Write What You Need to Read

I was reminded of this adage somewhere in the middle of this year of posts and connected it to what I’m doing here. I’ve been writing what I need to process and remember this precious time that is so busy it could go by without notice. The posts that I imagined I would write – clean, full of poignant phrases, powerfully evocative – are not at all what came out. But what came out was something like little snapshots of learning, appreciating and searching for the depth and richness of life as it is right now.

Themes

I imagined that I would write a lot more about faith and God because this was going to be my meditation journal for parenting. But it turns out that I can’t easily find the words to describe this core but non-denominational factor in my life. I suspect that because my beloved dad had such a definite view of God through Presbyterianism that I imbibed that deep belief but have trouble intellectualizing the faith, hope, and optimism that keep me going.

Instead I find myself writing about friendship, learning, trying, failing, confidence, feelings, the precious lessons I see unfold in my kids, meditation and breathing, imperfection, healing. And though they are all colored by my faith, hope, and optimism, they reflect life as I process it in all its messiness.

Community

I expected that writing posts would help me practice to become a better writer. But I had no idea I was joining a community. In many ways, the beauty of this experience had very little to do with the keyboard and everything to do with finding a network of interesting, inspiring and invested people. Writing blog posts has helped me remember this year of my life – but commenting on them and other people’s post filled a need I didn’t know I had for daily interaction with grown-ups that I wasn’t getting from my professional or family life.

As an example, in the beginning, I had my Gravitar website pointing to an outdated URL. Fortunately, Ab pointed that out to me, I fixed it and we connected. He has commented on every single post of mine since which deserves its own medal. Thank you for that gift, Ab!

That experience multiplied by many including Alegria, Ally, Art, Ashley, Betsy, Caitlyn, Chaya, Claudette, Cristiana, Deb, David, Dr. Stein, Dutch, Endless Weekend, Fred, Gary, Grace, Jane, Julia, Kathy, LaShelle, Mark, Michael, Michelle, Nancy, Natalie, Rebecca, Rosaliene, Susan, Tamara, and so many more is a treasure trove of goodness for which I’m so grateful. Thank you all!

I’m going to go celebrate. See you tomorrow – because even though my experiment is over, somehow I still have more to say… 😊  

(featured photo is of my kids celebrating a few years back)

Touch of the Divine

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“Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” – Roald Dahl

My kids and I went to my friend’s new condo for a dinner party last night. I got the kids settled with the paper that I brought for them and then realized I’d dropped the markers in the car. My friend’s place is a 4th floor walk up so I left the kids with her, went down to the car and realized when I got there that the kids had left the inner dome light in the back of the car switched on. I thought “Thank God I had to come down for the markers. Otherwise, I could have returned to the car on a dark night in a hurry to get the kids to bed and found a dead battery.” That touch of the Divine made the four flights of steps going back up lighter.

Then my 6-year-old daughter needed a brown and yellow marker because the set I brought didn’t have those. I asked our host who said that all of her art supplies were still in boxes but we could open the box nearest to us that said “Art supplies” on it and check. We cut open the box. Right there on top in a neatly bundled and organized cup was her beautiful set of markers. “Wow, thank you Universe!” she exclaimed. I got a shiver.

I cyclically float between being at times easily able to see what God is doing in my life and in the other times, thinking I’m in charge. It’s a flow that I go back and forth on during any given day, week or month. Often seeing the Divine hand hinges on what I’m talking about and with whom I’m talking.

Jesus said, “For where two or three gather in my name, I am there with them.” (Matthew 18:20) Which I broadly observe in my life as those around us can help us uncover the magic in our existence. I’ve been doing some work with the church that my dad used to lead. The staff there often says about fortuitous events, “It was a God thing.”

I was going to write something else for my blog post this morning but for that touch of the Divine last night. Not only is it beautiful to see the hand of God, even in little things like markers, but it is fun. On this dark morning when I’m fresh from sleep and quiet meditation, I’m inspired to pass the spark of mystery and magic along.

The Practice

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“One filled with joy preaches without preaching.” – Mother Teresa

My mom’s church has been doing these Wednesday night park programs for kids. It’s a little like Sunday School where there’s singing, a short message, some games and then Otter Pops at the end. You come with your family and can picnic there and then all participate in this hour of fun. It’s been lovely and my kids have loved it – it’s a fun way to return to being together. One of the songs we’ve been singing has gotten stuck in my head:

I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time
I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time
Since Jesus Christ came in, and saved my soul from sin
I’m inright, outright, upright, downright
Happy all the time

So as it’s been running that circular loop, I’ve realized that as a Presbyterian minister’s kid, this was exactly the messaging I grew up with. Jesus Christ = happy. And there’s a lot more of those kid songs with a similar message (like When You’re Happy and You Know It). I’m a pretty naturally happy person so there was no inherent conflict there as I grew up. But now, as I’ve pondered why I can’t just be a traditional church-going person, I wonder if I just outgrew that message as life got more complex and had to find my own practice. For me that has become listening to the quiet within every day on a meditation cushion. I also love a great sermon in church or fun in the park finding community but it’s the personal practice I always come back to.

It reminds me of the dance of falling in love. We lead with the message that we think is going to make us most attractive – that we are happy, successful, strong or sexy. But any relationship that goes the distance exposes all the facets of who we are. In that same way, religion (in my experience) uses happy, fun songs to get kids to listen and then for it to take root, they need to incorporate the message into the depth of what they believe. In this way both love and faith are a practice, not just a belief.

This ear worm of a song is leading me to realize that I want to support my kids in the incorporation of what we believe. To practice seeing that in the beautiful mystery of life and time as humans, we get to celebrate being here every day. And that God, in whatever way we conceive of him, is in each part of this experience whether we label it as happy or not.