37days

Ask for what you want

If you don’t ask, you don’t get. –Mahatma Gandhi

Months ago, poet Mary Oliver was giving a reading at a local university. I like Mary Oliver’s work, and in some cases, I even love it. Not like I love the poetry of some other poets—okay, just one, a man who shall remain nameless lest I be entered again into The Poet Stalker Database—but even so there are phrases and moments in Mary Oliver’s poetry that Speak To Me and Me Alone. Or perhaps not Me Alone, given the hundreds of other people who showed up at her reading. I love it when poets get rock star welcomes.

My friend Donna went with me. It turns out that Donna is a big Mary Oliver fan. We sat on the second row, waiting patiently. “I want you to meet a friend of mine,” Donna said to me as we were all waiting for the reading to start, a reading delayed by Mary Oliver’s desire to wait for her friend, Coleman Barks, to arrive. “I especially want Coleman to hear my poems about my dog,” Mary Oliver said, explaining the delay and asking our forbearance. And who could blame her? Well, my lord, if my friend were Coleman Barks and I had a new dog, I’d want to wait too, I thought to myself, so off we went to meet Donna’s friend who had just arrived.

I could barely focus on what Donna was saying to me, or her friend, either. I know I’ve written many times—and very recently!—about simplicity and not owning a lot of things and the evils of rampant materialism and how things keep us from being free and who we are—but honestly, you weren’t there. You cannot know how utterly and completely perfect that woman’s scarf was for me. My life would be complete, I knew in a hot blinding instant, if that scarf were around my neck and not hers. “That scarf is so gorgeous,” I gushed, plotting how to pull one end of it, twirl her out of it like a mummy, and then run screaming up the aisle for the exit. Screw Mary Oliver and her precious Rumi translating friend. I would run like the wind with that scarf blowing behind me, out into the dark, dark night.

I is for inside looking

Man need only divert his attention from searching for the solution to external questions and pose the one, true inner question of how he should lead his life, and all the external questions will be resolved in the best possible way. - Leo Tolstoy

In 2008, I will end each day by inside looking.

Naikan (nye-kahn) is a Japanese word which means €œinside looking€ or œintrospection€--seeing oneself with the mind's eye. Naikan is a structured self-reflection developed by Yoshimoto Ishin, a devout Buddhist of the Jodo Shinshu sect in Japan.

Naikan offers three questions for us to ask and answer:

What have I received from others?

What have I given to others or given back to others?

What trouble and bother have I caused them?

Retreat to move forward

Sometimes we have to retreat to move forward.

The next 37days retreat is scheduled for September 28-30, 2007, and registration has just opened for it. Limited to 14 people, I hope you can be one of them. I'll be joined by my business partner, David Robinson, in facilitating the weekend retreat. He's magical and brings so much to the gathering. Plus, we laugh a lot.

September 28-30, 2007  / MIND THE GAP: The Power of Personal Stories

[A 37days Retreat]

“The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.” -James M. Barrie

If you had only 37 days to live, would you feel happy with the story you have lived thus far? How would you express that story, learn from it, leave it for others? Those are the fundamental questions behind this blog and the grounding for this unique, experiential weekend gathering focused on unmasking our personal stories to achieve greater creativity, healthier relationships, and fuller engagement in what poet Mary Oliver calls our “one wild and precious life.”

Often, there is a gap between how we wish to be seen and who we really believe ourselves to be, between the story we meant to write and the one we’ve written so far. This gap mutes the colors of our lives and inhibits the quality of our engagements with other people—in our families, our organizations, our communities. Maintaining that gap diminishes our creative impulse and often splits our intentions. Why, then, don’t we do more to shorten that distance and mind that gap?

This unique Gathering will explore these questions:
How do we make meaning of our lives through story? What are the stories we tell ourselves about others? About ourselves? How do those stories reduce us? What learning and significances are right in front of us, in the stories of our days? How can we summon the courage to move beyond the limits of who we think we are into what we were meant to be? How can we relinquish our “role” in order to discover who we might be beneath the mask?  What treasures can be found in the in-between space between me and you, between perception and preconception, between my Self and the Other?

We’ll explore concepts such as:  Life as a finite or an infinite game, intention and direction, wicked problems & tame solutions, and naming our vicious and virtuous circles, those patterns that either reduce us or allow us to live expansively.

Learning Activities / We will: 

• Use improv theatre, ritual, metaphor, mask, story, writing, and other narrative tools
• Explore “role” and other expressive personal and organizational “masks”
• Be 85% experiential--not in the sense of simulations or role plays—but as unmasked engagement with others
• Invite participants to extract meaning from experiences as a collaborative learning community
• Use focused free writes to help participants frame experiences in their own language for deeper exploration
• Experience how changing ourselves can deeply impact our families, communities and organizations.

Here's what people had to say about the last 37days retreat:

“You created a safe environment for valuable learning.”

“I loved the gentle humor that developed in the group, the inclusive quality of the experience, and the practical writing techniques that I’ve probably encoded into my cells.”

“You don’t facilitate as if to say ‘we are the leaders.’ You’re great at taking cues from the group.”

“The story you wove through the whole weekend was masterful and amazing.”

“Your facilitation is beautifully collaborative.”

“Your ability to bring movement and play into the experience, and at the same time, relate that play to deeper concepts, was truly a pleasure to experience and to watch.”

“I appreciate all the thought, caring, and preparation you put into making the retreat weekend transformational for all of us.”

 Cost / To honor the impulse of giving behind 37days, this retreat is offered for a reduced fee of $475-775 inclusive of tuition, materials, housing, and all meals. Please pay what you can in that range.

Location / Our 2007 retreats will be held at the Bend of Ivy Lodge in Asheville, North Carolina. Go here for more information and registration forms for this and other 2007 retreats (PDF).

We'd love to have you join us there. It won't be the same without you.

Claim your A

“More grows in the garden than the gardener knows he has sown.” -Spanish Proverb

Three stories circling one theme:

The first story

When my older daughter Emma was 5 years old, she admired the bracelet of a family friend—“I love that bracelet!” Emma told the woman excitedly one afternoon. “That’s so pretty! I love those colors!”

Emma was ecstatic about the sparkly piece of jewelry in that unabashed way kids have, a bundle of sheer happy enthusiasm and joy at seeing the beautiful object.

“Well,” I heard the woman say to Emma in an off-handed way, “I’d give it to you, but you’d just lose it.”

Frame your storyboard

“Not equal to

Not metaphor

Nor standing for

Not sign.” – Minor White

Imagine Beetle Bailey’s surprise.

As Aldous Huxley said, perhaps Earth is another planet’s Hell. And maybe on that other planet, gargantuan people sit down with their oil drum vats of coffee, butter their big-as-car bagels, and open their 12-foot Sunday newspapers to find human Earth lives splayed above the fold as comic strips, our daily living played out for their amusement and edification in frames of our own choosing, and sometimes in boxes we wouldn’t choose—those defined by cancer, leukemia, dementia, racism, jealousy, hatred, boredom, inhumanity, wrong choices, name your fear, your awful regret, get inside that tiny box we draw for ourselves sometimes.

Put your own mask on first

“I cannot live without my life!” –  Emily Brontë

I fly a lot. And even so, it’s a lot less than I used to fly.

Me and my Delta -Ultra -Flying -Too -Much -Not -Living -The -Life -on -the -Ground Super Platinum Card, that sad testament to life way too far above terra firma, see a lot of action in any given year. I pray to the gods of upgrades on a weekly basis, hunkered down over delta.com in vain hopes that the almost-full-adult-sized seat in the front with my name on it will become available. It’s as close to compulsive gambling as I’ve ever come, except for that sweet moment one evening in 1995 with my Kiwi friend Richard at a casino in Melbourne, but I was younger then.

Study for the essay questions

“It is possible to store the mind with a million facts and still be entirely uneducated.” - Alec Bourne, A Doctor's Creed

Way back when I was learning my ABCs, names of state capitals, and the preamble to the U.S. Constitution at happy Hillcrest Elementary School way up there on the crest of that hill, We the People of These United States weren’t offered the chance to take a foreign language. No, I had to wait until the 9^th grade when all those chatty and sparky synapses were concretized, making it almost impossible to create unusual, new sounds and different ways with sentences construct word order to.

Good instructional strategy, that.

In that Dark Insular Age (as opposed to our Transparent Yet Still Insular Age of 2005), the only language offered was French. Mais oui! Given the Massive and Unrelenting immigration of wine-swilling Frenchies to the hills of North Carolina, that monolithic linguistic choice made perfect sense, didn’t it? Mais non!

Follow the disturbance

“Put down your clever,
Let your partner affect you:
Tenets of Improv”

-- review of Keith Johnstone’s Impro on HaikuBookReviews

I recently had an interesting experience that revealed to me a big truth, a Big Truth, that is, in capital letters. It was an encounter with a client.

My business partner, David, and I were working with the senior team of an organization and our focus was diversity in their workplace, a conversation I have facilitated many times for other groups. But never in my experience has the dialogue gone so deep and been so real and raw, so honest and so true, so close to a point of real change.

Stand on your own rock

“The map is not the territory.” - Alfred Korzbyski

This week we took our older daughter to summer camp where she will spend the next five and a half weeks rollicking in the woods, riding horses, swimming, hiking and climbing, making friendship bracelets, kayaking, and not writing home.

She went to the same camp last year, for three weeks that time, and came home changed in some ineffable way—was it the longer hair, the muscles from hiking, the freckles, the new love of salad greens? No, it was something much more than that, the kind of change that makes you cock your head to the side and wonder, but not really know.

Find your saxophone

"Follow your bliss. Find where it is and don't be afraid to follow it." -Joseph Campbell

If you’ve read 37 days before, you might have picked up on my love affair with actor Johnny Depp. Beautiful, talented Johnny. Quixotic, funny, odd, quirky Johnny. Did I mention beautiful? Ooh-la-la.

What can I say? There’s no defending it. I won’t pretend it makes sense, this long-distance obsession from North Carolina to France, this enormous, smothering, consuming disdain for that little fragile wispy twig of a French blonde he keeps taking to awards shows and having children with for some unimaginable reason. Why, I could take her out in the blink of an eye, the bat of a more well-nourished eyelash, were I the least bit inclined toward violence, which - of course - I am not, having attended a Quaker college (whose football team was paradoxically the "Fighting Quakers," but I digress).