Happy solstice and extra large full moon! I’ve heard that the moon is as close in physical distance right now as it ever gets. On top of that last week’s earthquake shifted the earth axis, narrowed the Pacific Ocean by 13 feet and slightly compressed the Earth’s shape so that we are now spinning ever so slightly faster.
This week also marked the memorial services of two people who have effected my view of Inclusion – Wolf Wolfensberger and Marilyn Ferrell.
I felt shaken in my core this week. It’s not that anything particularly good or bad happened, but just the same, it felt like some kind of reorganization.
Outwardly the signs of this are that my circle met today and I ensured that we did not talk about my health or my needs, but about how I am groping to reorganize my life so that I can integrate and balance all of the commitments that are trying to happen to put Inclusion and Peace deeply into the conversation of the world. To use a biblical phrase, this week has been about girding myself to conduct the big fight, the big push.
Mike and I counted my commitments, not such an easy task because they do overlap quite a bit with each other. In the end we decided on twelve:
1. The ROM Exhibit
2. Laser Eagles
3. The Book of Judith
4. Zombie Video Game Research & Development
5. Making WPIT a genuine presence
6. BMX Model Research
7. Health & Well Being
8. Wisdom City Team
9. My Staffing
10. Weaning myself off ODSP
11. Having Individualized Funding Extended
12. The Book and Getting it Published
All these things together will bring about the capacity of my colleagues and I to deeply embed a new conversation about Inclusion. Anything less will have me and our efforts unstable in some way. So in a very real way it’s all or nothing at this time.
Of course, this is the way it looks right now. Expect in the near future it will consolidate into a simplified version of this picture. The genuinely core issues will emerge and it will be clear how to empower all of it through a few key efforts.
It is also clear that I and we really need project management and a project co-ordinator. These things are necessary to engage as many people as possible and keep as many efforts going as possible all at the same time.
What has shifted is my level of certainty. This is what must be and can be.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
March 18, 2011
I realize that I have fallen far from the standard of writing every day in this blog. It begs the question – is this something I am still committed to, and if so, what am I prepared to do to keep it up.
This blog was born in a desire to express myself free from the constraints of my imagined response from readers. “Just put it out there – the hell with what I think they think about it!” this dichotomy soon proved to be false, and what was left was the growing courage to say what I had/have to say.
I would never have imagined that I lacked courage, but still its absence and now its presence – or growing presence – is apparent to me. It’s not about courage to speak/write but about courage to create a space where what “I” say can live beyond my immediate being. It’s about the willingness to be judged openly, to be sifted, to have some given the ongoing listening that will have it continue and some annihilated.
I see that I am a leader and that I have been unwilling to see that I am a leader.
I see that I am powerful and that I have been unwilling to see that I am powerful.
I see that I am angry and that I have been unwilling to see that I am angry.
I see that I am faithful and that I have been unwilling to admit that I am faithful.
Recently it has become occasionally apparent to me that there really is no “win” or “lose”. Win/lose is a useful model when one is young. Just like we teach 8 year olds that arithmetic IS mathematics, we teach ourselves to play life’s game as a win/lose struggle. But arithmetic is a small and insipid model of reality inside a vast set of models that we call mathematics which is in itself just one sort of approach to creating models of “it all”.
As I continue to manifest the complex set of human possibilities that I call Inclusion I am growing in my power and willingness to have it be as I say it can be. And, of course, I am not alone.
My anger is currently a curious phenomenon to me. I am angry most often when a promise isn’t kept. Outward judgement keeps me from noticing when I refuse to make a promise or don’t notice that I have made one or fail to be responsible when I don’t keep my own promises.
Most of my life my anger has been much more apparent to others than to me, and, of course, that sort of illusion is a great source of mischief. It has been like I could not let myself notice my power because I was afraid I would use it angrily and do harm. But “harm” is in a similar realm as “win/lose”. The creative and destructive forces of Shiva are permanently infused into each other.
As I see that I can be powerful and responsible I also see that others can be powerful and responsible. I do not have to tell them how to be or take care of them – simply call them into being.
Imagine a world where, by the age of seven or so, we were all calling each other to fully be and to responsibly hold together the spaces within which we can all be. Wouldn’t that be Inclusion?
This blog was born in a desire to express myself free from the constraints of my imagined response from readers. “Just put it out there – the hell with what I think they think about it!” this dichotomy soon proved to be false, and what was left was the growing courage to say what I had/have to say.
I would never have imagined that I lacked courage, but still its absence and now its presence – or growing presence – is apparent to me. It’s not about courage to speak/write but about courage to create a space where what “I” say can live beyond my immediate being. It’s about the willingness to be judged openly, to be sifted, to have some given the ongoing listening that will have it continue and some annihilated.
I see that I am a leader and that I have been unwilling to see that I am a leader.
I see that I am powerful and that I have been unwilling to see that I am powerful.
I see that I am angry and that I have been unwilling to see that I am angry.
I see that I am faithful and that I have been unwilling to admit that I am faithful.
Recently it has become occasionally apparent to me that there really is no “win” or “lose”. Win/lose is a useful model when one is young. Just like we teach 8 year olds that arithmetic IS mathematics, we teach ourselves to play life’s game as a win/lose struggle. But arithmetic is a small and insipid model of reality inside a vast set of models that we call mathematics which is in itself just one sort of approach to creating models of “it all”.
As I continue to manifest the complex set of human possibilities that I call Inclusion I am growing in my power and willingness to have it be as I say it can be. And, of course, I am not alone.
My anger is currently a curious phenomenon to me. I am angry most often when a promise isn’t kept. Outward judgement keeps me from noticing when I refuse to make a promise or don’t notice that I have made one or fail to be responsible when I don’t keep my own promises.
Most of my life my anger has been much more apparent to others than to me, and, of course, that sort of illusion is a great source of mischief. It has been like I could not let myself notice my power because I was afraid I would use it angrily and do harm. But “harm” is in a similar realm as “win/lose”. The creative and destructive forces of Shiva are permanently infused into each other.
As I see that I can be powerful and responsible I also see that others can be powerful and responsible. I do not have to tell them how to be or take care of them – simply call them into being.
Imagine a world where, by the age of seven or so, we were all calling each other to fully be and to responsibly hold together the spaces within which we can all be. Wouldn’t that be Inclusion?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
March 15, 2011
It has been over a week since I began using this blog to reflect on the letter that I have now sent to the two pastors of First Presbyterian Church of Savannah – Stephen Williams and Will Shelburne. I sent the letter today. It had a few modifications from the text in the last four postings. I ended up concentrating more on invisibility and less on being an enemy.
In one sense I feel directionless and in another I feel quite the opposite. It is clear that the next five or six months will be focused on Laser Eagles, the ROM art exhibit, shifting my staff team and my physical realities in order to accommodate the upcoming trip to Oregon, Arizona and the Conference for Global Transformation in San Francisco. The purpose of much of this trip is to nail down an opportunity to research the BMX Model and to demonstrate the inclusive video game at the conference.
So the direction is set in that sense. It is not set in a more personal and specific sense. Questions such as “Do I need a different kind of staff person so I can travel more easily?” or “How do I make sure that I’m making enough money that I can let go of ODSP if/when I need to?” – these questions remain vague and uncertain. Of course, their vagueness will disappear as necessity demands I take action. For example, I currently only have three weeks of staff time scheduled and my staff will soon be questioning me about what shifts they will have and how many hours and when am I going away and all that sort of thing. In other words, life will give me a direction if I haven’t already chosen one myself.
I am battling with myself. The question looks something like “I thought you were going to retire?” My circle is meeting on Sunday and I can already hear them protesting the intensity of life which faces me from end of April until end of August.
It is not hard to see how this all emerged. A few months ago I was lying on my back in my comfy bed recovering from near-terminal illness. Two forces conspired to shift all that. First, I was intrigued by the gigantic toys playing blocks outside my window at night only to discover that a prison is being assembled in my neighbourhood. Secondly, a colleague from the Book of Judith play went to a party because we couldn’t go to Edinburgh in November because I was sick. This set off a chain of events leading to my having an Inclusion art exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum. Add to these main themes that I actually did recover and that Laser Eagles was revitalized this fall by the combined efforts of Kimberly Fu and the CAVE board, and rather suddenly I’m pushing to create THE art exhibit about the journey of Inclusion that will – one hopes – convict people with the desire to embrace diversity.
There are other factors such as Mike Skubic and the video game. It all runs together at this point. I am on the road again and compelled again.
I have a great sense of fatigue just thinking about it all. Of course, the thinking about it is way more tiring than the doing of it, but that’s where I’m at right now. I have been learning in many ways, and particularly through the course on achieving a lasting impact that a sense of fatigue and hopelessness is really no more than confronting the perception that “the tiger is not dead but asleep”. You can drag it out of the path but as soon as it wakes up it is going to walk right back to the road and lay back down on it again. Trying to bring about Inclusion has been like trying to drag this sleeping tiger out of the road.
The course has been very interesting and instructive. It has pulled up virtually every occasion where I have felt like I got close to making a powerful impact on building Inclusion only to be driven back into obscurity. Whether it was Al Etmanski firing me in 2000 or Tom Kohler crossing his arms and emphatically saying that people with disabilities are not invited to Citizen Advocate training or Jack Pearpoint or Marsha Forest not including me in Inclusion Press. No matter how great and inspiring my own journey has been or my ideas may be I am not seen as having the practicality that is required to put a real organizational strategy together and to bring it to fruition.
So now we (mainly Mike and I) envision a well resourced organization that will foster Inclusion. Now I am preparing to put my energy on the line to get the necessary steps in place. I cannot know of course if I am just dragging another sleeping tiger to the culvert from whence it will shortly return, wet and hungry.
In one sense I feel directionless and in another I feel quite the opposite. It is clear that the next five or six months will be focused on Laser Eagles, the ROM art exhibit, shifting my staff team and my physical realities in order to accommodate the upcoming trip to Oregon, Arizona and the Conference for Global Transformation in San Francisco. The purpose of much of this trip is to nail down an opportunity to research the BMX Model and to demonstrate the inclusive video game at the conference.
So the direction is set in that sense. It is not set in a more personal and specific sense. Questions such as “Do I need a different kind of staff person so I can travel more easily?” or “How do I make sure that I’m making enough money that I can let go of ODSP if/when I need to?” – these questions remain vague and uncertain. Of course, their vagueness will disappear as necessity demands I take action. For example, I currently only have three weeks of staff time scheduled and my staff will soon be questioning me about what shifts they will have and how many hours and when am I going away and all that sort of thing. In other words, life will give me a direction if I haven’t already chosen one myself.
I am battling with myself. The question looks something like “I thought you were going to retire?” My circle is meeting on Sunday and I can already hear them protesting the intensity of life which faces me from end of April until end of August.
It is not hard to see how this all emerged. A few months ago I was lying on my back in my comfy bed recovering from near-terminal illness. Two forces conspired to shift all that. First, I was intrigued by the gigantic toys playing blocks outside my window at night only to discover that a prison is being assembled in my neighbourhood. Secondly, a colleague from the Book of Judith play went to a party because we couldn’t go to Edinburgh in November because I was sick. This set off a chain of events leading to my having an Inclusion art exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum. Add to these main themes that I actually did recover and that Laser Eagles was revitalized this fall by the combined efforts of Kimberly Fu and the CAVE board, and rather suddenly I’m pushing to create THE art exhibit about the journey of Inclusion that will – one hopes – convict people with the desire to embrace diversity.
There are other factors such as Mike Skubic and the video game. It all runs together at this point. I am on the road again and compelled again.
I have a great sense of fatigue just thinking about it all. Of course, the thinking about it is way more tiring than the doing of it, but that’s where I’m at right now. I have been learning in many ways, and particularly through the course on achieving a lasting impact that a sense of fatigue and hopelessness is really no more than confronting the perception that “the tiger is not dead but asleep”. You can drag it out of the path but as soon as it wakes up it is going to walk right back to the road and lay back down on it again. Trying to bring about Inclusion has been like trying to drag this sleeping tiger out of the road.
The course has been very interesting and instructive. It has pulled up virtually every occasion where I have felt like I got close to making a powerful impact on building Inclusion only to be driven back into obscurity. Whether it was Al Etmanski firing me in 2000 or Tom Kohler crossing his arms and emphatically saying that people with disabilities are not invited to Citizen Advocate training or Jack Pearpoint or Marsha Forest not including me in Inclusion Press. No matter how great and inspiring my own journey has been or my ideas may be I am not seen as having the practicality that is required to put a real organizational strategy together and to bring it to fruition.
So now we (mainly Mike and I) envision a well resourced organization that will foster Inclusion. Now I am preparing to put my energy on the line to get the necessary steps in place. I cannot know of course if I am just dragging another sleeping tiger to the culvert from whence it will shortly return, wet and hungry.
Monday, March 14, 2011
March 14, 2011
So for me the struggle is between having a path before me that calls me to be invisible and having one that calls me to be an enemy, and wanting to choose neither. Readers and friends know that I consider my deepest calling is to search for/invent a large gate that invites peoples everywhere to feel invited to enter and build inclusive communities.
As I understand the message: “Love your enemies” (at least tonight) the path of being an enemy is clearly preferable to being one of being invisible. Relationship, communication and mutual growth is available to enemies – the dark side of being colleagues. If my only real choice were between being invisible and being seen as a threat, I am powerfully drawn toward being an enemy!
It’s such a compelling set up. No wonder so many people who are labelled as disabled, and their parents and friends, become advocates! The fights are typically endless and largely unsuccessful. But in fighting, one feels one’s own reality and overcomes the annihilation of being unseen.
Perhaps the call to love one’s enemy is Christ’s way to break through the set up – not from the “advocates” position perhaps, but from the perspective of those who live within the world of doors and steps. How would love look between these worlds so physically separated within the same space?
Of course, love looks like the donation of time and space to be in Savannah and do my art. It looks like the welcome to service, and church suppers, and casseroles dropped off to keep us fed, and use of the fax machine and so many doors held open so often. These gifts are received with genuine gratitude.
But is there a level of love that can transcend the fundraising account, doors held, casseroles and shelter, and go to the souls of the people who come together for such a brief moment and from such different worlds? Is there a love that gives visibility and recognition, taking the fear out of “enemy”? How do the “strangers” become “angels” for each other?
I am hopeful that when this tumultuous year has settled and my art exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum has become history I will have the opportunity to return to Savannah, to First Presbyterian Church, and that by then I will have new discoveries about Inclusion and transforming invisibility. I will make an effort to host a dialogue about enemies that have discovered love. Perhaps we will be our own best examples.
As I understand the message: “Love your enemies” (at least tonight) the path of being an enemy is clearly preferable to being one of being invisible. Relationship, communication and mutual growth is available to enemies – the dark side of being colleagues. If my only real choice were between being invisible and being seen as a threat, I am powerfully drawn toward being an enemy!
It’s such a compelling set up. No wonder so many people who are labelled as disabled, and their parents and friends, become advocates! The fights are typically endless and largely unsuccessful. But in fighting, one feels one’s own reality and overcomes the annihilation of being unseen.
Perhaps the call to love one’s enemy is Christ’s way to break through the set up – not from the “advocates” position perhaps, but from the perspective of those who live within the world of doors and steps. How would love look between these worlds so physically separated within the same space?
Of course, love looks like the donation of time and space to be in Savannah and do my art. It looks like the welcome to service, and church suppers, and casseroles dropped off to keep us fed, and use of the fax machine and so many doors held open so often. These gifts are received with genuine gratitude.
But is there a level of love that can transcend the fundraising account, doors held, casseroles and shelter, and go to the souls of the people who come together for such a brief moment and from such different worlds? Is there a love that gives visibility and recognition, taking the fear out of “enemy”? How do the “strangers” become “angels” for each other?
I am hopeful that when this tumultuous year has settled and my art exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum has become history I will have the opportunity to return to Savannah, to First Presbyterian Church, and that by then I will have new discoveries about Inclusion and transforming invisibility. I will make an effort to host a dialogue about enemies that have discovered love. Perhaps we will be our own best examples.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
March 10, 2011
I attended one sermon, given by Stephen Williams. It was to remind us that Jesus told us to love our enemies.
I remember that I was deeply moved, and now I don’t remember why. I remember that I had been listening from the middle of the central aisle because the notch that has been carved out of the last row of pews is a few inches too short for me to fit into.
I remember that I started to go up to Stephen after the service. Because I go out a different door I came up from behind him, and not being able to get his attention that way, I came around a different way. The second approach was more like swimming upstream because I was then moving back up the sidewalk as the departing crowd was coming down the path.
By this time several minutes had passed and Stephen was ready to move on. Not being able to catch more than a fleeting greeting from him, I shouted from a distance that I would write him a letter. This will be in that letter.
Mainly I remember how it seems that our different life circumstances virtually turn Stephen and I into each other’s enemies – not in an overtly hostile way – but in the sense that we physically and socially cannot share space except in the most truncated way. Good intention does not prevail against the long time present barriers between us.
In the model of Inclusion I have created (the BMX Model presented earlier in this blog) my sojourn in Imlay House was B – Basic Level inclusion. Mike and I were welcome, treated in a very warm way, freely given comforts and shelter, occasionally gifted with food, interacted with politely but briefly, and otherwise left alone, accountable for nothing more than returning the keys when we left. Other interactions were imagined before we arrived – there was speculation that we would meet with the youth group or speak at Wonderful Wednesday’s dinner, but when we actually arrived there was no space in people’s calendars.
Now, I don’t experience that I am an enemy or am viewed as an enemy of members of First Pres – quite the opposite. Just the same, if I WERE experienced as an enemy, and especially if I behaved like one, would the time at Imlay House have led to greater inclusion for Mike and I?
The scriptures admonishing Christians to love their enemies are all about “turn the other cheek” and “carry the load an extra mile”. They suggest that love is expressed as tolerating pain, standing present in the face of stress, generating more effort beyond an already overwhelming strain – all in the context of hostility and disrespect.
An enemy is not invisible. Mike and I were mainly invisible.
What would Christ have said about loving the invisible? Does this reality lay on me the responsibility to become an enemy when I am invisible, so that there will be an opportunity to be loved? Is that why Rosa Parks had to sit at the front of the bus?
(to be cont’d)
I remember that I was deeply moved, and now I don’t remember why. I remember that I had been listening from the middle of the central aisle because the notch that has been carved out of the last row of pews is a few inches too short for me to fit into.
I remember that I started to go up to Stephen after the service. Because I go out a different door I came up from behind him, and not being able to get his attention that way, I came around a different way. The second approach was more like swimming upstream because I was then moving back up the sidewalk as the departing crowd was coming down the path.
By this time several minutes had passed and Stephen was ready to move on. Not being able to catch more than a fleeting greeting from him, I shouted from a distance that I would write him a letter. This will be in that letter.
Mainly I remember how it seems that our different life circumstances virtually turn Stephen and I into each other’s enemies – not in an overtly hostile way – but in the sense that we physically and socially cannot share space except in the most truncated way. Good intention does not prevail against the long time present barriers between us.
In the model of Inclusion I have created (the BMX Model presented earlier in this blog) my sojourn in Imlay House was B – Basic Level inclusion. Mike and I were welcome, treated in a very warm way, freely given comforts and shelter, occasionally gifted with food, interacted with politely but briefly, and otherwise left alone, accountable for nothing more than returning the keys when we left. Other interactions were imagined before we arrived – there was speculation that we would meet with the youth group or speak at Wonderful Wednesday’s dinner, but when we actually arrived there was no space in people’s calendars.
Now, I don’t experience that I am an enemy or am viewed as an enemy of members of First Pres – quite the opposite. Just the same, if I WERE experienced as an enemy, and especially if I behaved like one, would the time at Imlay House have led to greater inclusion for Mike and I?
The scriptures admonishing Christians to love their enemies are all about “turn the other cheek” and “carry the load an extra mile”. They suggest that love is expressed as tolerating pain, standing present in the face of stress, generating more effort beyond an already overwhelming strain – all in the context of hostility and disrespect.
An enemy is not invisible. Mike and I were mainly invisible.
What would Christ have said about loving the invisible? Does this reality lay on me the responsibility to become an enemy when I am invisible, so that there will be an opportunity to be loved? Is that why Rosa Parks had to sit at the front of the bus?
(to be cont’d)
Saturday, March 5, 2011
March 5, 2011
This being the second time I stayed (as in lived for a few days) at Imlay House I knew to bring my own ramp. Both entrances – the main one on 46th Street, and the back one from the preschool are stepped.
It’s so odd to be doing my thing and to hear someone else using my rickety old ramp. Although quite safe, my decade old heavy foldable ten foot ramp is bent at the hinges and dented in many places. It rattles as weight travels along it, so every toddler, parishioner or caretaker who used it announced the fact clearly. And there were many. This is no problem of course, but simply a curiousity to me. Why is it that mostly when “walkees” have a clear choice they choose a ramp, and if ramps are so much to be preferred, why don’t people build them by default instead of steps?
There must be forty doors in major transitional areas of First Pres – outside doors to the church, Imlay House, the offices, the preschool, and transitional doors from lobbies to main rooms to hallways to the next building, and the like. Of these doors I could only use five and none of them independently. On this second trip it became clear to me how this reality deeply effected how I actually end up relating to folks of the congregation.
Firstly, many of my interactions – and especially my first interaction with nearly everyone – is to get their assistance to open and hold a door. From the ushers who first direct me to a side door and then who insist on opening both sides even though I clearly need only the half that isn’t bolted shut, to the office clerk who finds me waiting outside Stewart Hall for a passerby to release the always locked door from the inside, most everyone is going to shape their relationship with me in terms of helping me get in or out of the space.
Secondly, I will just never go to or be seen in probably fifty percent of the spaces regularly used by parishioners – the stage, the second floor of Imlay, the pulpit, the choir area, and more I can only imagine since I cannot get even near!
How this limits what those good people imagine I am! I will never preach or cook for them, play with or teach their children, counsel with the Synod, provide strategic planning or pastoral counselling – all things I have done before but will not do with First Presbyterians of Savannah - not just because I am from Canada but also because they will not ask me to. Why not? No one ever SEES me in the spaces or these roles, or gets to talk with me much beyond door opening.
This reality was hitting me rather hard this time around. First Presbyterians have seen me often enough over several years that some greeted me as if they had been expecting me to show up anytime soon – like a distant cousin that they remembered had gone to school on another continent and were expecting could show up for spring break. I have a feeling that I’m almost at home there, that I actually could be home there sometime. Yet as close as I have gotten I feel that I also can’t get much closer. The doors cannot – literally cannot open – to me.
It made me wonder about and look at how good, hospitable, open hearted and minded folks could stay so so white in the midst of a world of an international port as Savannah is. Why isn’t Savannah as multicultural as St. John’s Newfoundland? Clearly there is another sort of door that the parishioners are busy managing, but somehow will never open to many of the other people in Savannah. Clearly the members of First Pres never have a chance to find out all the ways other people would love to contribute to their wonderful community. (to be cont'd)
It’s so odd to be doing my thing and to hear someone else using my rickety old ramp. Although quite safe, my decade old heavy foldable ten foot ramp is bent at the hinges and dented in many places. It rattles as weight travels along it, so every toddler, parishioner or caretaker who used it announced the fact clearly. And there were many. This is no problem of course, but simply a curiousity to me. Why is it that mostly when “walkees” have a clear choice they choose a ramp, and if ramps are so much to be preferred, why don’t people build them by default instead of steps?
There must be forty doors in major transitional areas of First Pres – outside doors to the church, Imlay House, the offices, the preschool, and transitional doors from lobbies to main rooms to hallways to the next building, and the like. Of these doors I could only use five and none of them independently. On this second trip it became clear to me how this reality deeply effected how I actually end up relating to folks of the congregation.
Firstly, many of my interactions – and especially my first interaction with nearly everyone – is to get their assistance to open and hold a door. From the ushers who first direct me to a side door and then who insist on opening both sides even though I clearly need only the half that isn’t bolted shut, to the office clerk who finds me waiting outside Stewart Hall for a passerby to release the always locked door from the inside, most everyone is going to shape their relationship with me in terms of helping me get in or out of the space.
Secondly, I will just never go to or be seen in probably fifty percent of the spaces regularly used by parishioners – the stage, the second floor of Imlay, the pulpit, the choir area, and more I can only imagine since I cannot get even near!
How this limits what those good people imagine I am! I will never preach or cook for them, play with or teach their children, counsel with the Synod, provide strategic planning or pastoral counselling – all things I have done before but will not do with First Presbyterians of Savannah - not just because I am from Canada but also because they will not ask me to. Why not? No one ever SEES me in the spaces or these roles, or gets to talk with me much beyond door opening.
This reality was hitting me rather hard this time around. First Presbyterians have seen me often enough over several years that some greeted me as if they had been expecting me to show up anytime soon – like a distant cousin that they remembered had gone to school on another continent and were expecting could show up for spring break. I have a feeling that I’m almost at home there, that I actually could be home there sometime. Yet as close as I have gotten I feel that I also can’t get much closer. The doors cannot – literally cannot open – to me.
It made me wonder about and look at how good, hospitable, open hearted and minded folks could stay so so white in the midst of a world of an international port as Savannah is. Why isn’t Savannah as multicultural as St. John’s Newfoundland? Clearly there is another sort of door that the parishioners are busy managing, but somehow will never open to many of the other people in Savannah. Clearly the members of First Pres never have a chance to find out all the ways other people would love to contribute to their wonderful community. (to be cont'd)
Friday, March 4, 2011
March 4, 2011
There are two pastors at the First Presbyterian Church of Savannah – Stephen Williams and Will Shelburne. I am attaching a copy of these next blog postings to an e-mail to both of them, primarily because I want to express the impact on me of being a very distant participant in their congregation and also because Stephen preached about “loving your enemy” and I said I would write him a letter after that moving sermon. That letter is now nearly four weeks overdue.
First I must say to both Stephen and Will that you are WELCOME and ENCOURAGED to read my blog – thirdcycle.blogspot.com – if something in this intrigues or puzzles you.
Mike and I stayed at Imlay House for the eighteen days we were in Savannah. Imlay House has two storeys and an attic, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a parlour - with a piano - that can easily accommodate twenty, a sitting room/TV lounge, a small patio looking over a park, a dining room to seat ten – outfitted much as my Grandmother’s was in the 1950’s, and a tiny kitchen and laundry facility.
Mike and I kept largely to two bedrooms and the kitchen because we did not want to mess up the more formal areas with artistic or domestic activities and because we felt no need to interfere in any way with congregational events that occasionally took place in the parlour. The kitchen turned out to be a fairly common area – the two who prepare the congregation’s Wonderful Wednesday church suppers and the man who caretakes the premises often use the kitchen and laundry as a sort of overflow – crates of eggs, etc. Although we were surprised by this overlap it was also quite welcome as these interchanges formed the basis of a growing sense for us of belonging and camaraderie.
Besides Imlay House the entire complex includes a preschool for thirty-eight children, a meeting/community hall with a stage and industrial kitchen – Stewart Hall, a church office building of two stories with meeting/classrooms, offices, counselling rooms and a library, and the church building itself in a very traditional style of the eighteen hundreds with a steeply raised pulpit, altar, choir, etc., stained glass windows on two sides, and the severest of wooden pews - capable of seating well over 500 worshipers.
First Presbyterian has a vibrant, community minded congregation that is dominated by greyed heads but still includes a good sized number of young families. Compared to the multicultural background of Toronto, First Pres is nakedly “white” with a mere handful of individuals who might identify as other than Caucasian.
Two dominant themes run through the ambiance of the whole establishment. One is “build and sustain your community here!” and the other is: “Help the less fortunate!”. Thus at the only Wonderful Wednesday supper I attended this trip there was a glass jar on every table to collect pennies for a food charity and the after dinner topic was a presentation from a Presbyterian missionary who has spent most of her career helping to restore congregations in the former Soviet Union. She had many stories of how the congregations there are often heavily persecuted on the one hand while being the only community many youth experience in that economically devastated region.
Stewart Hall is frequently busy as are the meeting rooms of the church offices, with everything from bagpipe lessons to ballet practice to discussions of city politics to youth groups of several types. Although a few people are clearly participating in nearly everything, most are participating in just two or three ways and so the congregation has gained a reputation of being a genuine community. Some participants drive in from great distances even though Savannah has as many churches per square inch as Toronto has coffee shops.
Beyond this, my impressions of First Pres are many and mostly strong. For example, the level of hospitality displayed by the congregation seems nearly limitless. They let us stay for free, they keep a bank account for us to raise money in the US for World Peace through Inclusion, people frequently offered generous amounts of food and we had ready access to the fax machine, the internet and other resources, (to be cont’d)
First I must say to both Stephen and Will that you are WELCOME and ENCOURAGED to read my blog – thirdcycle.blogspot.com – if something in this intrigues or puzzles you.
Mike and I stayed at Imlay House for the eighteen days we were in Savannah. Imlay House has two storeys and an attic, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a parlour - with a piano - that can easily accommodate twenty, a sitting room/TV lounge, a small patio looking over a park, a dining room to seat ten – outfitted much as my Grandmother’s was in the 1950’s, and a tiny kitchen and laundry facility.
Mike and I kept largely to two bedrooms and the kitchen because we did not want to mess up the more formal areas with artistic or domestic activities and because we felt no need to interfere in any way with congregational events that occasionally took place in the parlour. The kitchen turned out to be a fairly common area – the two who prepare the congregation’s Wonderful Wednesday church suppers and the man who caretakes the premises often use the kitchen and laundry as a sort of overflow – crates of eggs, etc. Although we were surprised by this overlap it was also quite welcome as these interchanges formed the basis of a growing sense for us of belonging and camaraderie.
Besides Imlay House the entire complex includes a preschool for thirty-eight children, a meeting/community hall with a stage and industrial kitchen – Stewart Hall, a church office building of two stories with meeting/classrooms, offices, counselling rooms and a library, and the church building itself in a very traditional style of the eighteen hundreds with a steeply raised pulpit, altar, choir, etc., stained glass windows on two sides, and the severest of wooden pews - capable of seating well over 500 worshipers.
First Presbyterian has a vibrant, community minded congregation that is dominated by greyed heads but still includes a good sized number of young families. Compared to the multicultural background of Toronto, First Pres is nakedly “white” with a mere handful of individuals who might identify as other than Caucasian.
Two dominant themes run through the ambiance of the whole establishment. One is “build and sustain your community here!” and the other is: “Help the less fortunate!”. Thus at the only Wonderful Wednesday supper I attended this trip there was a glass jar on every table to collect pennies for a food charity and the after dinner topic was a presentation from a Presbyterian missionary who has spent most of her career helping to restore congregations in the former Soviet Union. She had many stories of how the congregations there are often heavily persecuted on the one hand while being the only community many youth experience in that economically devastated region.
Stewart Hall is frequently busy as are the meeting rooms of the church offices, with everything from bagpipe lessons to ballet practice to discussions of city politics to youth groups of several types. Although a few people are clearly participating in nearly everything, most are participating in just two or three ways and so the congregation has gained a reputation of being a genuine community. Some participants drive in from great distances even though Savannah has as many churches per square inch as Toronto has coffee shops.
Beyond this, my impressions of First Pres are many and mostly strong. For example, the level of hospitality displayed by the congregation seems nearly limitless. They let us stay for free, they keep a bank account for us to raise money in the US for World Peace through Inclusion, people frequently offered generous amounts of food and we had ready access to the fax machine, the internet and other resources, (to be cont’d)
Thursday, March 3, 2011
March 3, 2011
I am restarting this blog while I’m feeling somewhat intimidated. I have never decided for how long I was going to keep up writing these posts. I started this blog out of a desire to express myself in an unfettered way while I recovered physically and while I got oriented to a new phase of life. Basically these accomplishments have been met.
Certainly there is value in keeping a daily journal. It is valuable in keeping me from unconsciously looping over the same thoughts and worries. Of course, it’s not that I don’t loop. Rather I can see the loops more quickly and have a go at saying something new more readily when I am writing everyday. As I engage in writing and thinking new (to me) things my world gains possibilities.
As for others, there are 17 followers of this blog, which is truly amazing to me! It certainly seems that a slowly growing circle of people are engaged with me in a dialogue about Inclusion. Of course this is not a typical dialogue but there is definitely an element of conversation. This element mostly shows up when people talk to me in real life situations about what they have recently read here. This is perhaps the most valuable aspect of this blog for me as I have many more moments when I am able to talk about things that I’m interested in with people where I don’t have to start at “square one”.
The intention of writing these postings daily has broken down a number of times. Some gaps happened when I ran out of things to say, but usually, at these times the daily discipline has been valuable because pushing through the gap gets me to a deeper level of understanding of myself and what I think. More of the gaps have happened when there was just more going on than I could physically and socially keep up with. In Savannah it was just more than I could fit into my energy level and time frame. It was important to focus on making sure that the painting happened. And it did happen!
On Friday night of last week I did a presentation at The Sentient Bean in Savannah – a community and social justice oriented coffee shop. I included in my talk the six pictures of the work that Mike and I did over eleven days at Imlay House.
From a certain perspective I left out one of the paintings. I use paper towels in one of my techniques to create a water colour impression. Mike saved the paper towel used to create one of the six. It is, in fact, a seventh creation all by itself, but I did not include it in the slides I showed that night.
Painting with Mike as my tracker, and also having him as one of only two personal assistants, and also living with him as a housemate for two weeks created the kind of emotional compression that my circle worries about vis a vis me and my safety and the choices I make in my life. It was very clearly, at least at some points, a strain for both of us. We got through it and we both did quite well, I think. We accomplished what we intended to do and the accomplishments were well done for the most part. At the same time we have conversations to have with each other and with others to explore that emotional compression and to see if there are better ways to achieve such accomplishments in the future.
So what was achieved? For me it was the six paintings, and above all THE painting. It turned out that “Dirty Window” is not THE painting. By February 20th it was clear to me that Mike and I could not finish “Dirty Window” in a way that would leave me satisfied with the work and him feeling acknowledged for his effort. It was at this point that I had a conversation with Mike that gave me a better understanding of how he could paint and keep up the work in a way that was both centred in his previous experience of doing art and reflecting the direction I wanted to go in. When I understood what he meant by “inking” I was able to formulate the picture in my own mind in a way that could work for both of us. Once again the art lead both of us in a different direction. The painting ‘Winter Mourning” is a true expression of Mike’s efforts, my response to the prison, and what the art itself wanted to be.
Here are some of our other accomplishments. I saw 14 pelicans over 2 days. We had a lot of fabulous meals. We spent a little less money than was available – YAY! We went for several long walks – sometimes together, sometimes separately. I gave two trainings for Chatham Savannah Citizen Advocacy, and both were well received. My talk at the Bean lead to some interesting reflections on what it will take to forward the action on Inclusion and Peace. Finally I did a bang up job of supporting an advocacy group on the last Monday of our trip, in Atlanta.
Now is a re-entry time. I love Savannah and I love Etobicoke. I am appreciated in a way in Savannah that does not happen anywhere else. The same is true in Etobicoke. The two worlds are different and both compelling. Part of my own inclusion journey is to continuously sort out having both.
Certainly there is value in keeping a daily journal. It is valuable in keeping me from unconsciously looping over the same thoughts and worries. Of course, it’s not that I don’t loop. Rather I can see the loops more quickly and have a go at saying something new more readily when I am writing everyday. As I engage in writing and thinking new (to me) things my world gains possibilities.
As for others, there are 17 followers of this blog, which is truly amazing to me! It certainly seems that a slowly growing circle of people are engaged with me in a dialogue about Inclusion. Of course this is not a typical dialogue but there is definitely an element of conversation. This element mostly shows up when people talk to me in real life situations about what they have recently read here. This is perhaps the most valuable aspect of this blog for me as I have many more moments when I am able to talk about things that I’m interested in with people where I don’t have to start at “square one”.
The intention of writing these postings daily has broken down a number of times. Some gaps happened when I ran out of things to say, but usually, at these times the daily discipline has been valuable because pushing through the gap gets me to a deeper level of understanding of myself and what I think. More of the gaps have happened when there was just more going on than I could physically and socially keep up with. In Savannah it was just more than I could fit into my energy level and time frame. It was important to focus on making sure that the painting happened. And it did happen!
On Friday night of last week I did a presentation at The Sentient Bean in Savannah – a community and social justice oriented coffee shop. I included in my talk the six pictures of the work that Mike and I did over eleven days at Imlay House.
From a certain perspective I left out one of the paintings. I use paper towels in one of my techniques to create a water colour impression. Mike saved the paper towel used to create one of the six. It is, in fact, a seventh creation all by itself, but I did not include it in the slides I showed that night.
Painting with Mike as my tracker, and also having him as one of only two personal assistants, and also living with him as a housemate for two weeks created the kind of emotional compression that my circle worries about vis a vis me and my safety and the choices I make in my life. It was very clearly, at least at some points, a strain for both of us. We got through it and we both did quite well, I think. We accomplished what we intended to do and the accomplishments were well done for the most part. At the same time we have conversations to have with each other and with others to explore that emotional compression and to see if there are better ways to achieve such accomplishments in the future.
So what was achieved? For me it was the six paintings, and above all THE painting. It turned out that “Dirty Window” is not THE painting. By February 20th it was clear to me that Mike and I could not finish “Dirty Window” in a way that would leave me satisfied with the work and him feeling acknowledged for his effort. It was at this point that I had a conversation with Mike that gave me a better understanding of how he could paint and keep up the work in a way that was both centred in his previous experience of doing art and reflecting the direction I wanted to go in. When I understood what he meant by “inking” I was able to formulate the picture in my own mind in a way that could work for both of us. Once again the art lead both of us in a different direction. The painting ‘Winter Mourning” is a true expression of Mike’s efforts, my response to the prison, and what the art itself wanted to be.
Here are some of our other accomplishments. I saw 14 pelicans over 2 days. We had a lot of fabulous meals. We spent a little less money than was available – YAY! We went for several long walks – sometimes together, sometimes separately. I gave two trainings for Chatham Savannah Citizen Advocacy, and both were well received. My talk at the Bean lead to some interesting reflections on what it will take to forward the action on Inclusion and Peace. Finally I did a bang up job of supporting an advocacy group on the last Monday of our trip, in Atlanta.
Now is a re-entry time. I love Savannah and I love Etobicoke. I am appreciated in a way in Savannah that does not happen anywhere else. The same is true in Etobicoke. The two worlds are different and both compelling. Part of my own inclusion journey is to continuously sort out having both.
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