by Heather Plett | Mar 21, 2014 | Uncategorized
“We must come together in ways that respect the solitude of the soul, that avoid the unconscious violence we do when we try to save each other, that evoke our capacity to hold another life without dishonoring its mystery, never trying to coerce the other into meeting our own needs.” ― Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak
All around us, there is a hunger for belonging, a hunger for community, a hunger to be held in circles of grace where we can open our hearts and know that we will be treated tenderly and respectfully. Some of us have not yet awakened to that hunger, believing instead that we can go through life as independent, self-reliant souls. It’s there, though, hidden under the armour we’ve built up in our efforts to avoid being wounded.
To feed this hunger in the world, we need to create more places where people are fed. These are the places I call Circles of Grace.
A Circle of Grace is a place where people gather for meaningful conversation, for compassion, for support, for encouragement, and for growth. While in the circle, we do our best to extend grace to everyone there, including ourselves. We speak with openness and listen with intention. We make a commitment within the circle to be as authentic as we know how to be, and we welcome the same from others. We share, laugh, cry, grow, stretch, and tremble. Even when we disagree and conflict arises, we respond with compassion and open hearts and minds.
A Circle of Grace can be hosted as part of a retreat, it can be the frame for a weekly class (as I do with Creative Writing for Self-Discovery), it can be a way for your family to work through some difficult issues, it can be the way a community or church gathers regularly, and it can even be used in virtual gatherings (as I do with Openhearted Writing Circle).
How do you host a Circle of Grace? Here are some tips.
1. Create enough structure to hold the container, but enough flexibility to adapt to what wants to emerge. The best structure I know of can be found in PeerSpirit’s Circle Guidelines (which you can download for free). Sometimes it feels a little strange to bring structure into something that seems organic, but the structure helps you hold whatever is going on in the circle and helps you take conversation to a deeper place without falling into chaos. You can adapt the structure to what needs to happen in the space. For example, I always use a talking piece at the beginning of a gathering for check-in and at the end for check-out, so that each person has an opportunity to speak without interruption, and then I set it aside in between for less structured conversation.
2. Set guidelines and intentions so that everyone has a sense of their commitment while in circle. Guidelines help us feel more secure in the container because we know how to behave with each other and know what to expect from others. This is a sample of the guidelines and intentions I use when I host Openhearted Writing Circles:
- This is a circle of grace. It is a safe space for all of us, and to make it so, we will treat each other with kindness and grace.
- This is a confidential circle. Nothing that is shared here will leave the circle without the permission of the person speaking.
- This is a sharing circle. Each of us will be invited and encouraged to share questions, wisdom, writing, etc. Nobody will be pushed to share if they don’t feel ready, but everyone will be invited.
- This is a learning circle. We are all here to learn, and so no questions will be considered foolish and no wisdom shared will be silenced. We are all learners together, including the teacher.
- This circle belongs to each of us. Each of us is individually and collectively responsible for how we interact, what we share, and what we get out of this time together.
3. Keep an open mind and suspend judgement. It is important that everyone in the circle feels safe and accepted. This doesn’t mean that any kind of behaviour is acceptable (the guidelines and intentions help with that), but it means that people can share their stories, hurts, and wounds without fearing that they are being judged. Sometimes that will be hard to do (e.g. when someone shares an opinion or worldview that is very different from your own and you’re pretty sure they’re wrong) but it is crucial to extending grace in a meaningful way.
4. Don’t try to fix anyone. As Parker Palmer mentions in the above quote, we need to “avoid the unconscious violence we do when we try to save each other”. When others share the struggles they are dealing with, it is human nature to want to help them resolve those struggles, but more often than not, they are sharing in order to feel heard rather than to be fixed. According to Brene Brown in Daring Greatly, these efforts to fix each other are our defenses against vulnerability. We are afraid to see too much vulnerability in each other and in ourselves, and so we try to rush past the brokenness to a place where we feel more comfortable and struggles are resolved. In a Circle of Grace, we welcome vulnerability and we offer support without trying to fix.
5. Encourage people to ask for what they need. While we don’t rush in to fix things for people, we are happy – as hosts and co-creators of the circle – to respond to their requests if they ask for hugs, advice, encouragement, or silence. Create a space where people learn to be comfortable asking for what they need. This will probably take time (most of us have been taught to stifle our needs and not to extend trust to each other too quickly), but it’s worth the investment.
This is part of a document I am creating for people who wish to use Pathfinder in women’s circles and classrooms. It will be available as a free downloadable pdf. To be notified of its release, sign up for my newsletter (on the top right of this page).
If you wish to learn more about hosting circles, I encourage you to read The Circle Way by Christina Baldwin and Ann Linnea of PeerSpirit, or A Hidden Wholeness by Parker Palmer.
by Heather Plett | Feb 6, 2014 | Beauty, circle, Creativity, Uncategorized
I see more and more women (and some men) who are finding their way back to the things they love to do – painting, dancing, writing, hosting, horseback riding, hiking, taking pictures, acting, etc.
I work with a lot of these people, in my coaching and workshop facilitation, and I love to see the delight in their eyes when they talk about what they truly love to do. Some, for example, sit in my Creative Writing for Self-discovery circle and talk about how writing poetry feels like a homecoming – like something they’ve been longing for but didn’t know they were missing. Others start playing with mandalas and can’t believe how much joy it brings them to hold pencil crayons in their hands again.
Almost always, though, I see that delight in their eyes fade when I ask them “why don’t you do more of it?” They stammer a reply that sounds remarkably similar to all of the other excuses I’ve heard (I’m too busy, it makes me feel guilty, my partner makes fun of me, I can’t take the time away from my kids, etc.). And when they come back a week later, they sheepishly say “I wanted to do the homework, but couldn’t find the time.”
The bottom line is that they have been fed a lie that what they love to do is trivial. It’s the thing you do only if you have time after all of the important things are done. It’s just a hobby, so shouldn’t be taken as seriously as washing the dishes or crunching numbers at the accounting office you work at.
I have struggled with this lie in my own work too. Sure I teach transformational workshops online and off, but it’s not really that important, is it? It’s just stuff people do on the fringes of their lives – it doesn’t fit in the “mainstream” where people are doing real work. Even though I believe in it deeply and know it can transform people and communities, I have trouble marketing my work in the corporate world, because… well… won’t people make fun of me for trying to sell something so trivial in a serious environment?
Mandala journaling? That’s fine for people with time on their hands, but don’t try to get a serious corporate executive to colour in a circle. It’s far too trivial for someone with an important job title. Gathering in circle? Oh that’s just for women who aren’t doing the big, important work in the world. It’s not going to fly in places where people are having tough conversations and changing the world.
But it’s all a lie, and I know that. It’s the lie the patriarchy has been telling us for hundreds of years to keep us silent and to keep us from changing the accepted structures and heirarchy. It’s a lie we’ve been fed again and again, since childhood, and we don’t know how to change it because we’ve received so many wounds over it, we’ve learned to hide our hearts and keep our deepest loves secret.
Imagine if we could rise out of the shame and the fear and truly believe in what we love to do.
Imagine if we could convince governments to move their chairs into circles and have real conversations instead of the polarizing shouting they do at each other from across the room. Imagine if business meetings started with some quiet journaling or mandala-making. Imagine if there was daily dancing in the corporate offices downtown. Imagine if the heads of corporations and governments had to go on vision quests or self-discovery retreats before they could be trusted to lead.
It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Your first thought, like mine, was probably “oh, it would never work”. But what if every time we heard that voice of resistance in ourselves, we recognized it as the voice of the patriarchy trying to silence us, and we challenged it instead of accepting it?
A few weeks ago, I co-facilitated a weekend stakeholder consultation for a national association of city planners. Because we knew it would be a difficult conversation, we encouraged them to use circle to ensure that everyone was heard. There was some reluctance to our recommendation, but fortunately we had an ally on the planning committee, and so we went ahead with it. The circle transformed the way they gathered. People made positive contributions throughout the weekend because they felt heard. Important decisions were made AND people felt valued and hopeful.
The circle is NOT too trivial for people who are making important business decisions. In fact, I think it’s imperative.
A few years ago, I was facilitating a team planning retreat for a non-profit, and I invited everyone to start with some simple yoga poses, and then we played with modeling clay and tried to envision our future through clay. Halfway through, one of the people in the room said, “but when are we going to do the real work?” He was anxious to get to the strategic planning we needed to do. I didn’t say much, but when we were finished, we looked at each other’s clay creations and saw a great deal of vision for where the team needed to move. “Oh, I get it,” said the person who had resisted. “This IS the real work.” Yes, it is. We saw more vision emerge from the pieces of clay than we would have in a traditional brainstorming session.
Art-making and yoga are NOT too trivial for people doing world-changing work. In fact, I think it’s imperative.
It’s taken me years to stop believing the lie (and it still creeps in now and then), but I believe that the world is crying out for us to do this work. It’s transformational for EVERYONE, not just the people with time on their hands after the real work is done.
It starts by changing us individually, and with that as a base, it can change governments, change international relationships, change the way we treat our earth, and change our communities.
I believe it’s imperative. The world needs this kind of change. And it will have to start with a healing of our collective wound and a new belief that this is worthy work we are doing.
If you are on the path to the work you love, or you want to step onto that path, consider a journey through Pathfinder.
If you want to practice openhearted writing, consider joining a small, intimate virtual circle on Friday, February 14th.
by Heather Plett | Feb 3, 2014 | circle, Uncategorized, writing
When I am in pain, I turn to books. When I am lost, I turn to books. When I am confused, need to feel less alone, long to be inspired, need help with relationships, or want to change the world or myself, I turn to books.
I turn to books. A lot.
Yes, I also seek support from my community – my family and dearest friends – and I do a lot of journalling, wandering, praying, and art-making, but almost always, when there is a gap in my life, I first look for books (or blog posts, articles, song lyrics – anything that’s well written) that will help me understand something deeper about myself and the world I live in.
Good writing cracks my heart wide open. It changes my perspective. It opens me to new possibilities. It challenges me to be a better person. Sometimes it frightens me. And sometimes it makes me weep. But it always leaves me wiser and more openhearted than before.
When I was lost and losing my faith and wanted to know that my confusion was human and that there was a different way of experiencing God than the way I’d grown up believing, Anne Lamott’s courageous, vulnerable, and breathtaking words let me know that it was okay to lie broken on the floor, and trust that God would be down there on the floor with me.
“Hope is not about proving anything. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us.” – Anne Lamott
When I was in a difficult place, facing the fear of conflict and yet knowing that I, as a non-profit manager, needed to address the difficult things that my team was facing instead of hiding and pretending it wasn’t there, I hung Ranier Maria Rilke’s words on my wall.
“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
When I was preparing to travel to Ethiopia, where I knew I would see the kind of intense poverty and injustice that would tear my heart apart, I turned to Viktor Frankl.
“For the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – that Love is the ultimate and highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love.” – Viktor Frankl
When I longed to follow my dreams, and not simply follow the accepted path that would make the least waves, I clung to Mary Oliver’s words.
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.” – Mary Oliver
When my inner wild woman kept whispering in my ear, Clarrisa Pinkola Estes helped me recognize her.
“If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don’t worry, there is still time.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estés
When I longed to understand myself better so that I could understand others, David Whyte served as a guide.
“Making room for our own fears, we suddenly have room for the fears of others. Once we have renounced the need to live without suffering, to be special, to be exempt from the losses and doubts that have afflicted all people since the beginning of time, we can see the difficulties of others without being afraid ourselves. Our fearful, disappointed surface face starts to fall away. We can welcome other people into our lives because no matter their fears, they do not make us afraid. Suffering is the natural cyclical visitation that comes from being alive.” – David Whyte
When I couldn’t understand why my journey was often so difficult while others seemed to have much easier paths, Parker Palmer saved me.
“Most of us arrive at a sense of self and vocation only after a long journey through alien lands. But this journey bears no resemblance to the trouble-free “travel packages” sold by the tourism industry. It is more akin to the ancient tradition of pilgrimage – a transformative journey to a sacred centre’ full of hardships, darkness, and peril.” Parker Palmer
When I was lost in grief over the deaths of my mother, father, and son, C.S. Lewis shared his own story and left me feeling less alone.
“Grief … gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.” – C.S. Lewis
When I tried to follow my passion, but faced fear and resistance, Steven Pressfield held my hand and coaxed me forward.
“Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.” – Steven Pressfield
When I needed to learn how to trust again, Martyn Joseph’s songs were my companions.
“So turn me tender again Fold me into you Turn me tender again And mould me to new Faith lost its promise And bruised me deep blue Turn me tender again Through union with you”– Martyn Joseph
When my creative heart called me forward into a deeper and deeper journey, John O’Donohue was there beside me.
“The call to the creative life is a call to dignity, to a life of vulnerability and adventure and the call to a life that exquisite excitement and indeed ecstasy will often visit.” – John O’Donohue
When chaos terrified me and I didn’t know how I would lead my team forward, Margaret Wheatley calmed my nerves.
“Change always involves a dark night when everything falls apart. Yet if this period of dissolution is used to create new meaning, then chaos ends and new order emerges.” – Margaret Wheatley
When I looked around me and saw only flawed paradigms for leadership, Christina Baldwin was my guide to a new way of seeing.
“As much as we may think we know about the nature of being human, the circle knows more. The circle is a form that has been able to withstand the imperfections of human interaction and survive tremendous social shifts. I believe this on both experience and faith: experience, because I have been in circles at moments of searing vulnerability and high confrontation and the circles have held me; faith, because the circle once held human society together for over thirty thousand years.” – Christina Baldwin
When I recognized that part of my calling was to help people build community, Peter Block showed me how.
“Leadership is about rearranging the chairs, getting the questions right, putting citizens in front of each other and then knowing what’s worth focusing on. The leadership I’m longing for is the leadership that says my number one job is to bring people together out of exile, out of isolation, and into connection.” – Peter Block
These writers and so many more have kept me company in my darkest days and inspired me in my brightest days. I owe them a deep, deep gratitude for the many ways in which they have touched my life.
All of my life, I have strived to be the kind of openhearted writer that these writers have been. It has been my daily practice to put my words onto the page in vulnerable, truth-seeking ways. Sometimes I share those words, and sometimes I keep them close to my heart… but always I write. Always.
One of the greatest blessings of my life has been the many, many times that someone has left a comment on my blog, sent me an email, or phoned to tell me “your words touched/changed/challenged/enlightened/inspired me.” When I share with an open heart – whether that heart is broken in the grief of the death of my mother, cowering in fear over challenges that feel too big for me, stumbling through the daily struggle of life, or in awe of the grace that appears out of nowhere – people respond.
Open hearts touch other open hearts.
Out of my own practice of openhearted writing has emerged a new offering. I want to invite you into a small, intimate online circle where we will spend a day practicing and learning about openhearted writing.
Won’t you join me on February 14th in opening our hearts to what wants to be written? Your words may not leave the pages of your own journal, but even if you are the only person who is changed, the practice is worth every moment you spend on it.
by Heather Plett | Jan 20, 2014 | beginnings, Uncategorized
Pam Slim’s book Body of Work arrived at the perfect time – just as I was on the threshold of doing some big work that marks the next stage of my own body of work.
A few months ago, Dianne McCoy and I accepted a contract to facilitate a major meeting of a national association and their stakeholders from across the country, gathering in our city this past weekend. This was one of the biggest and most complex meetings I’ve ever been called on to facilitate. There were moments leading up to it, when the complexities mounted and the potential for failure grew more evident, when both Dianne and I were sure we were in over our heads. There was even a moment or two when we considered turning down the contract.
But we worked up the courage to carry on. Not only did we carry on, but we pushed the client to allow us to use some methods that we both strongly believe in, but that we knew would create discomfort for many in the room who are used to more formal, hierarchical ways of gathering. Circle was at the foundation of how we wanted to gather, and there aren’t a lot of people in the corporate world who are accustomed to engaging with each other while they hold a talking piece in their hands and look into each others’ eyes. (Thankfully, we had an ally on the planning committee who is equally committed to circle work and she nudged the others to trust us.)
This was a monumental meeting for the organization. The ground was shifting beneath them, and they weren’t sure what shape they’d need to emerge into to continue to be relevant. They needed a brand new level of engagement with their stakeholders (that was both risky and unheard-of) if they were to continue to serve their public.
Needless to say, these two days of work required all of the skills I’ve accumulated – ability to read and respond to the energy in the room, leadership and strength in the face of conflict, intuition, good communication (speaking and writing) skills, attention to detail, ability to host meaningful conversations, creativity, adaptability… and a few skills I didn’t even know I had.
The meeting went well. There was more agreement in the room than the organization had anticipated, and even though things got tense at moments, we were able to redirect the energy and take it into a positive direction. Thanks to strong partners in the room who understand what it means to hold the rim of the circle, we worked our way through some very difficult territory to a positive conclusion. People in the room felt heard in a way they never had before, and the governing council had clarity about the new direction their organization needs to head. At the end of the meeting, several people remarked how the circle had been instrumental in changing the way they’d gathered.
In the evenings, when I returned home, exhausted and yet invigorated, I relaxed while reading Body of Work. As I’d expected, it’s a beautiful articulation of the way my own work has evolved. Pam talks about how the emerging story of our work is a compilation of all of the pieces that led us to this place – experiences we’ve had, things we’re passionate about, things that have happened to us, skills we’ve developed, etc.
Although there’s a part of me that’s long known that this was the direction my work was taking me, there was nothing in the early days of my education or career that indicated that I would one day relish the opportunity to host such a gathering. And yet… when I sit on this side of history and look back, I can see how the threads started coming together a long time ago to tie into this tapestry of my work.
In university, I studied literature and theatre. I’ve always known that writing would be part of my life in some way or another. I also thought that I’d find a place on stage. Little did I know that that place was not on a theatre stage, but at the front of the room speaking, teaching, and facilitating.
I found my way into a career in communication, first in government and then in non-profit. I worked hard to master the art of effective communication, writing more press releases and planning more press conferences than I can count. That grew old, though, and I knew that my longing to communicate was not about finding the best way to tell people about new government policies, but to tell meaningful stories that would change people’s lives.
I left government for non-profit, and finally got to tell more meaningful stories, but knew that wasn’t the final stop either – it was another stepping stone that was helping to prepare me for the next stage of my work. While there, I gained immense value from the opportunities to travel internationally and learn to communicate effectively with people of different cultures and different socio-economic status. This experience built a beautiful platform for the way I hold the container for meaningful conversation – recognizing the value of all of the stories in the room and honouring the differences we bring to the circle.
There have been lots of other things, aside from my paid work, that have helped grow this body of work – serving in leadership and church and community organizations, being a mom, getting some of my writing published, developing relationships with people all over the world, making art, developing creative practices, making mandalas, walking labyrinths, traveling, etc. All of it is meaningful, and even those moments that felt like dead-ends were learning opportunities.
All of those pieces helped prepare me for that moment, nearly at the end of the meeting, when I stood in front of the room, and somebody threw something into the mix that felt like it could derail everything that had just happened. It was the scariest moment of the weekend, and I wouldn’t say I handled it perfectly, but I adapted, trusted the others who were helping me hold the container of the room, and shifted into what was needed for that moment.
I wouldn’t have been ready for this moment ten years ago, or even five years ago, but I was now. As circle has taught me, I was especially ready for it because I had allies in the room (and outside of the room) and I knew I wasn’t standing alone. One of the most important things that the growth of this work has taught me is that I don’t do it alone.
Just before the weekend started, I bought myself a new ring. This is something I’ve done a few times in the past – buy a special piece of jewellery at significant moments of my life both as an act of kindness to myself and as a way of marking a new threshold in my growth. It’s a practice that holds a lot of meaning for me. This particular ring has a series of spirals that wrap around my finger. As many of you know, the spiral has a lot of meaning in my work (especially in Mandala Discovery). In this case, it reflects the way my work grows like a fern, reaching with tender green spirals further and further into the world, never in a linear path, but always in the direction it feels pulled. (Later this week, I launch the hard copy version of Pathfinder, so my week of big offers and spirals reaching in different directions, is not yet over.)
I would highly recommend Body of Work if you want to take a closer look at the path your own work is taking. If you want a meaningful companion for this exploration, I’d also recommend Pathfinder: A creative journal for finding your way. Pathfinder will on Wednesday, January 22nd. Come back then to order your copy!
by Heather Plett | Jan 8, 2014 | body, circle, grace
My word for 2014 is grace.
At first, my intentions revolved around “serving as a channel of grace” and “being a co-creator of circles of grace”. Surprisingly though, the most valuable lesson I’ve learned so far is this…
In order to extend grace, I also have to be a recipient of grace.
And being a recipient of grace means that sometimes I have to extend that grace to myself.
Here’s how grace has been showing up for me so far this year…
1. Extending grace to my body
Last year when my mom was dying, four special friends recognized my need for self-care and gave me a gift certificate for Ten Spa. Mom’s decline was happening too quickly, and so I didn’t get a chance to use it. And then… well… grief, timing, stories of worthiness, etc. got in the way of me booking an appointment. Suddenly a year was gone and I’d done nothing with this generous gift.
As the anniversary of Mom’s death came and went and Christmas approached, I suddenly found myself longing for the day of pampering I’d denied myself before. I booked an appointment for a hamam spa treatment just after the new year.
My first thought when they gave me a plush bathrobe and ushered me into the luxurious sitting room where snacks and tea awaited was “This is ridiculous. How can I enjoy something like this when I’ve seen some of the worst poverty in the world?” That thought quickly passed though, as I filled my plate with vegetables and hummus, poured a cup of herbal tea, and sank into one of the plush white couches.
Before long, an attendant invited me into a private room where she offered me more snacks (Turkish delights) and explained the process to me. I followed her into the hamam spa, and suddenly what she said about it “feeling like you’re in another country” made sense to me. The hamam spa is a darkened, steamy, marble-covered room, with twinkle lights in the ceiling that look like stars. It has the feeling of a mediterranean beach at twilight.
First you take a hot shower, and then rub lavender salts all over your body… and then comes the good part. You lie on a marble slab and your attendant begins alternatively massaging your face and feet and pouring warm water on various parts of your body.
I hardly know how to describe the experience in a way that does it justice. Almost as soon as my attendant touched me, tears welled up in my eyes. Her hands were tender, warm, and pulsing with energy. The combination of her gentle massage, the warm water, and the steamy room made me feel like I was once again swimming in the safety and comfort of my mother’s womb. Fully embraced in love, ready to be born again.
After the face and foot massage, she left me for awhile to lie in silence. Then came the second half of the treatment. I moved to a higher marble slab and she began the most amazing combination of exfoliation, massage, bubble bath, hair shampoo, and more pouring of water.
It was the most sensuous experience I’ve ever had. My body felt alive in a way it’s never felt before.
More than anything, my body felt sacred.
My body was a temple, cared for by the most loving hands in the kingdom. My body was worthy of honour. My body was a thing of beauty.
My body was a container for grace.
After I was finished and I laid in the quiet, candle-lit transition room, where they offer a yogurt drink and white blankets to curl up under before you have to head back into the world, I had an epiphany…
If my body truly is truly a sacred, beautiful, container for grace, then I need to start acting like I believe that IT IS WORTHY OF GRACE. And if it is worthy of grace, then I need to learn how to extend grace to it regularly, not just on those rare times when I can visit the spa.
Since then, I have been turning my daily bath-time into a body grace ritual. While I soak in the hot tub, I do more than simply wash my skin and hair, I massage it tenderly, being mindful of the muscles that hurt and the places where I need extra attention.
When I climb out of the tub, I nourish my skin with generous amounts of moisturizer, taking time to enjoy the experience instead of simply rushing through it.
I’ve also been more mindful of how I nourish the inside of this container of grace. I’m trying to drink only water and tea (with occasional glasses of wine), and eat what makes my body feel alive, happy and healthy. No, I’m not dieting or doing anything restrictive – I’m simply trying to be more mindful of how I honour this body of mine.
I’m also mindful of the fact that grace involves forgiveness, and so when I forget – when I indulge in half a glass of coke, I rush through my bath time, or I let the cold weather excuse me from a visit to the gym, I forgive myself.
It’s changing me, this new experience of grace. I am experiencing my body in a new way.
2. Letting a Circle of Grace Happen
Although circles of grace have become central to the work that I do in my teaching, workshops, coaching and retreats, there’s been something missing in my life – my own circle of grace where I can be the participant/recipient and not the teacher/facilitator. I’ve longed for this, but there was something always blocking me… I didn’t want to be the driving force behind it. Having initiated and hosted countless circles, I wanted the right circle of support to show up that I didn’t need to be responsible for. I knew that if I were to feel supported in the way I need in this work, I couldn’t be in a position that felt like leadership. So I waited…
And then it happened. In a surprising and serendipitous way.
The group of women who participated in my Creative Writing for Self-Discovery class in the Fall felt such a close bond by the end of the 8 weeks together that they decided they wanted to keep meeting. Because I felt bonded to them too, I decided to stay with them as well. The original intention was to form a book club, but when we met last night, we all realized that what we most need from each other is support and encouragement more than opinions on books, so we morphed into a women’s circle (that will occasionally read books together).
We passed around the “grace” talking piece that I’d received the day before from a client/friend, and we shared stories of heartache, courage, fear, resilience, unemployment, triumph, sexual harassment, divorce, parenting, and all of the little things in between. We hugged, cried, laughed, ate… and offered each other grace. It was a beautiful thing.
Much like my body, my heart is a container for grace.
And my job this year is not just to extend it, but to receive it. Last night, I received it.
“As you sow, so shall you reap.”
As I learn to receive grace, more grace will flow from me. When my container is full to overflowing – as it is right now – I can pour it out more freely to those who need it.
