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 | 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.
by Heather Plett | Dec 4, 2013 | Uncategorized
Suddenly I know what my word for 2014 will be.
Grace.
The sudden realization of it made my eyes well up with tears just now. Because that is what I wish to spread more of in the world and it’s what I need to practice giving more of to myself as well.
This past year has not been an easy one – first there was Mom’s death, then Marcel’s heart attack, and then my broken foot – but it has been a year that has taught me that there are few things more worthy of spreading in the world than grace.
Grace is the woodpecker that arrived at the bird feeder moments after mom died reminding us that the world is still beautiful in the midst of pain.
Grace is the circle of friends who rallied around me to help pay for my trip to Lake Tahoe and Atlanta.
Grace is the food friends brought in our times of grief and illness.
Grace is that quiet moment in the woods when a deer stopped to look deeply into my eyes.
Grace is my daughters, giggling all night in a cheap hotel room, satisfied even though their friends hopped on planes to exotic destinations.
Grace is a picnic table and a bottle of wine at the edge of the lake while the sun set over the prairies.
Grace is accepting the quiet moment at Lake Louise with my post-surgery brother as enough, even though we both longed for more.
Grace is the many circles I have sat in and hosted – writing groups, leadership retreats, an artist retreat in a tiny border town, an international circle of women in Lake Tahoe, and a circle of grown-up campers at Lake Lanier.
Grace is late night swimming with a new circle of wild women friends.
Grace is hundreds of heart-opening conversations.
Grace is a quiet comment from a client that “your work changed me.”
Grace is getting up in the morning and forgiving the mistakes of yesterday.
Yes, 2014 will be a year of grace. Just like 2013 has been.
by Heather Plett | Sep 11, 2013 | Uncategorized
I knew I wanted to include a lesson on grace in Mandala Discovery, but whenever I tried to write that lesson, I ran into a problem. I don’t know how to define grace.
I’ve had lots of experiences with it, and in my heart I know what it was, but that heart-knowing doesn’t translate into language. So I went to the dictionary.
- elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action
- a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment
- favor or goodwill
Hmmm… Close, but not good enough. I went to another source.
- mercy; clemency; pardon
- the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the bestowal of blessings.
Much closer, but still missing something intangible. I finally wrote this:
I think the clue is in the word “unmerited”. We never deserve grace, it just shows up – a gift from the outstretched hand of God.
Grace is one of those words where nothing but the experience of it can fully inhabit its complex meaning.
Grace is the woodpecker that arrives at the bird feeder moments after your mom dies reminding you that the world is still beautiful in the midst of pain.
Grace is the soup your friend brings to your sickbed.
Grace is your daughter offering to do the dishes even though it’s not her turn.
Grace is the father who lets his son move back home after he’s messed up his life.
Grace is that quiet moment in the woods when a deer stops to look deeply into your eyes.
Grace is the realization that you are beautiful despite your wounds.
Grace is the friend who sits down on the floor with you when you’re too weary to stand up.
To that list, I want to add one thing… Grace is a circle of friends and blog readers who rally around you and generously provide you with over $2000 so that you can travel and grow your work.
Grace is all around us. It is offered to us as unexpected blessings, tiny miracles, moments of mercy, and undeserved kindness.
What moments of grace have you experienced today?
by Heather Plett | Jan 17, 2013 | Beauty, grace, grief, growth, journey, Uncategorized
This much I can tell you – hard times are going to come your way. Grief, pain, anger, disappointment, hurt, tears – you’ll face them all in this lifetime.
I wish I could promise you otherwise, but my life story bears the truth of what I’ve just said. You will face the death of people you love, you will find yourself lost in the abyss, you will be betrayed by those closest to you, and you will go through periods of devastating self-doubt.
Last night I had a powerful dream that the whole world was falling apart. It was probably a reflection of the many conversations I’ve had with people recently who’ve felt like their worlds were falling apart. In the dream, there was a major catastrophe (something like an earthquake) and there was calamity all over the world. I spent most of the dream trying to find and rescue people who were lost in the damaged world. It wasn’t a stressful act – it was just something that needed to be done.
I know what the dream means. This is my work in the world – helping people navigate their way through broken places in their lives; helping them see the light when they’re lost in the dark. Quite significantly, in the dream I was doing it with the help of my Mom and Dad. Both Mom and Dad have been my torchbearers, and even after their deaths, they continue to help me in this work.
I’ve gotten mad at God sometimes, for not giving me a calling in which I could invite people onto an easy path. Instead, I got the calling to help people navigate in the dark. It’s hard to market the dark path – it just doesn’t sell the same way “ten easy steps” does. Once I finally surrendered to it, though, I realized that my calling is much deeper and more beautiful than the easy one I longed for. This is a good life, despite the pain – and maybe even because of the pain. Light is so much more stunning when you know what darkness looks like.
Here’s what I’ve learned about navigating in the dark:
- You can survive more than you think you can. You’ll hit what you’re sure is rock bottom, and you’ll think “I can’t possibly live through one more hardship”, and then rock bottom will be taken away from you and you’ll be falling again, to a new bottom. You can survive it. Trust the Source of your strength, the God of your understanding, and the strength you need will show up.
- You can fall apart, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be permanently broken. In the cycle of life, deconstruction has to happen before construction can begin. The falling apart is necessary – let it happen. Don’t try too hard to hold yourself together. Old patterns need to die (painful but true) before new patterns can emerge. Think of the seed that needs to crack open for a tree to grow. Yes, it’s painful for that seed, but if it doesn’t crack open, it withholds life.
- Your greatest enemy is the shame of what you’re trying to hide from the world. Shame will cause you to do unhealthy things just to maintain your reputation as a “pulled-together” person. Let go of your image of a pulled-together person and practice letting go of the shame. I say “practice”, because it takes time, effort, and some pretty deep personal work to recognize the shame and gradually let it go. (See Brene Brown’s work or Cath Duncan’s work for more on shame resilience.)
- Let go of any illusion you have that you are in control of what happens. There are many in the self-help world who will tell you that your thoughts attract what comes to you in your life, but if you believe that when hard times come your way, you will be side-swiped by self-hatred in the middle of your grief. You didn’t bring this on. The best you can do is live through it with some measure of grace. And if you don’t always feel full of grace, forgive yourself for that. Let the grace come from some other Source than you.
- As any white-water rafter will tell you, your safest bet is to surrender to the waves and stay vigilant for the rocks and whirlpools. Let the grief happen. Ride it out and do what you can to guide your boat between the rocks, but don’t try to resist it. You can’t stop the river, so you might as well ride with it and trust that it will eventually take you to a place of calm. Embrace the word “surrender”.
- Search for the points of light. Pay attention to those moments when the sunset is particularly stunning, your friend shows up at just the right moment, a breeze kisses your cheek, you’re drawn to a blog post that was just what you needed to read right now, or someone offers to take over a task that’s become too difficult for you. Each point of light is God shining through the darkness. Those tiny points of light will guide you through the darkness until you see the dawn again.
- Trust that this hardship is a deepening of your spiritual journey. Everyone wants an easy path to enlightenment, but nobody gets it. As Caroline Myss reminds us in Sacred Contracts, all of the leaders of the world’s major religions – Jesus, Muhammed, and the Buddha – had to go through times of testing before they could be commissioned into their roles as teachers. Your hardships will deepen your work and take you further into your calling. This I know from personal experience. I would not be doing the work I’m doing today if I hadn’t gone through the loss of my son.
- Reach for other people in the dark. There are people who want to walk with you through this dark place. There are people who can help you see the light. It’s okay to reach for them. You don’t need to do this alone. Darkness is easier to navigate if you find someone holding a flashlight.
- Life won’t always be this hard. When you’re down there at rock bottom and you haven’t seen a pinpoint of light for weeks, you’re going to become convinced that this is all there is to life and you’ll never be free of the pain. I’m not going to tell you that it’s easy or that you have to have faith. (Read Ronna Detrick’s excellent post about faith in the darkness.) I’m simply going to tell you that there will be light again. And the light will have a deeper, richer shine to it than anything you’ve ever seen before.
