We look with uncertainty
beyond the old choices
for clear-cut answers
to a softer, more permeable aliveness
which is every moment at the brink of death;
for something new is being born in us
 if we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
awaiting that which comes . . .
daring to be human creatures,
vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
 Learning to love.
—Anne Hillman -
 

Mary Oliver’s poems are imbued with the mystery and wonder of nature.  They stem from her close and deep attention to the marvels she observes on her daily meditative walks in nature.   Mary Oliver’s poetry and this wee snippet above remind me of school field trips to the rocky shore, when I was principal of Matahui School, where learning outside the classroom, and learning from nature, are central.

The very first activity for each child was to choose a comfortable position, somewhere on their own beside a rock pool, and they were to simply sit there – very quietly - very still - and they were to do nothing but observe their pool.

For five full minutes. 

Which is a long time for a child to sit without moving or saying a word.  In fact we would practise this at school beforehand in preparation for the outing.

For this was the key to unlocking the magic and wonder of the rocky shore for the children; for them to gain the most learning from the experience.  As the observers sat there, as still and quiet as the rocks themselves, the sea life within each pool would decide that it was now safe for them to resume their daily business, and the pools would proceed to come to life.   Myriads of sea life, normally unseen when people are clambering about on the rocks, would begin to move about in their own particular way, doing their own particular thing, for their own particular purpose.  All shapes and sizes, some very tiny and easy to miss without paying close attention.  

And there was so much else to notice within the rock pool - the intricate structures of the plant life, the details and colours of the rocks and shells.  It was enthralling to watch, and once the show began, it was suddenly easier to simply sit and observe.  It was a lesson in paying attention and mindfulness, and this was years before mindfulness became the catchphrase it is today.

The children learned so much more from this activity than the adaptive features of plants and animals.  They also learned about the wonder and beauty of nature, the interdependence of the rock pool community with each other and their shared environment, and how important it is that we treat these  rock pool ‘homes’ and their inhabitants with deep care and respect.   

All very important universal understandings that apply on so many levels in the wider world beyond the rocky shore.

And so back to Mary Oliver, and her gift of observing and learning from nature and beautifully capturing and sharing important universal truths, as she does in her poem Invitation:
​

​I offer some questions as a guide for your reflections.  Or you may wish to go in other directions the poem takes you.
 

• What hopes, dreams and visions have you carried with you?
• What seeds have you planted?
• What has come to fruition?
• What joys and challenges have you experienced?
• Where do you need more patience in your life?
• What do you wish to carry forward?
• What do you choose to let go of?

 
Meanwhile I’m sending out warm wishes for a restful and renewing holiday break, for happy times with loved ones, doing the things that sustain you and bring joy to your life.  

I've been thinking a lot about Time lately - how no one seems to have enough of it, and everyone bemoans the lack of it.  Yet today, being busy seems to have become a social badge of achievement.   We like to tell each other how busy we are. 

What worries me is that when we get too caught up in the surface everyday whirl of our lives, we risk losing deeper connections - important connections - vital even - connection with Self; with others; with nature; connection with the wonder and mystery that life holds.

I believe that many of the personal, social, economic and environmental problems we face across our world today stem from the loss of one or more of these vital connections. Finding the solutions will begin with re-discovering connection.

My blog post today has turned into a poem of sorts.....

Time Out
When did life become a race? 
A race to first up the ladder,
to become the best, the busiest,
to acquire and do the most.
 
When did time become a scarcity?
A thing to be saved and guarded
and meagerly doled out  
into the timetable that is our life.
 
When did leisure time stop being leisurely? 
When did we start cramming our moments
for fun, for friends and family,
into schedules with too few gaps?
 
When did we forget how to wait?
To want everything the world offers and Now.
 
When did we forget that it takes time,
generous time,
to create, to achieve, to connect
to do good things that are truly worth doing.
 
When did exhaustion, overwhelm and burnout become everyday words?
 
And when is someone going to call Time Out?
 
Time for stillness, for rest, for open space,
time for taking stock of our lives
what we’re doing
where we’re going
the things that truly matter to each of us
on our journeys.
 
​
Mennie Scapens

 ​Many years ago I worked as personal assistant to a very difficult Financial Manager. Lao Tzu would have had a thing or two to say about him.  This man had an ego the size of a house.  He seemed to enjoy undermining and unsettling his staff, as though needing to constantly re-affirm his own superiority by making us all feel incompetent.  Today, we’d call him a bully.

In order to survive, my own ego came into play, and work came to feel more like a competition, which I spent my days trying to win.  I did everything I could to always appear cool, calm and competent, never asking for help or giving him any suggestion that I mightn’t understand something.  Even when that something  was completely new to me.  I worked around him as much as possible, because direct dealings often resulted in a bruised ego.  Mine, not his.   But the worst aspect, I think, was watching how he undermined my colleagues, particularly the junior staff, noticing how he damaged them, left them questioning their own sense of worth. 

Lao Tzu’s definition of a ‘wicked leader’ sums up this manager perfectly.  He was truly disliked by his people.  He created a culture of fear where there was no place for personal vulnerability or honesty. Needless to say, I didn't last long at that job, though when I made the decision to leave after only six months in the position, it felt to me like a personal failure.  He’d won and I’d lost.  At the same time, though, I realised that it was the organisation that had lost the most.

An extreme example of poor leadership, perhaps, but one that illustrates the nature of ego and how it can drive our behaviour through fear, desire and ambition.  An organisational culture that requires its people to always appear strong, objective and goal-focused will operate with an undercurrent of fear. Egos flourish in these environments because they’re all about having to look good in the eyes of others.  The need to be seen as successful, important, competent.  Competition will flourish also, because winning looks good, it strokes our ego, and it helps us feel good.  But it’s important to remember that this emphasis on outward appearances masks the true fears beneath.  Fear of failure.  Fear of not looking the part.  Fear of not belonging.  

The problem is that when our behaviour is driven by what others think of us, or what we look like, or what we manage to achieve, we will look outwards, not inwards, when making decisions.  We ignore, and risk losing touch with those deeper parts of ourselves where we're able to access our inner truth, our feelings and intuition, our values and beliefs. 

When we're able to step back from our ego and see it as a separate part of ourselves, we’re better able to recognise and control our ego-driven fears.  As I said in my last blog entry Head versus Heart, once we’re freed from the controlling influence of the ego, we find we have the courage to show up in the world with all of ourselves, with our strengths and weaknesses, our successes and failures.  With fear out of the way, trust is able to flourish, and we’re more likely to connect with a deeper sense of purpose in life and the courage to stand up and strive for what we believe in.

The journey to leadership begins from within – sometimes as a dream or sense of need, perhaps as a commitment to a cause or the desire to serve or solve a problem.

But the frantic pace and outer demands of the journey – the deadlines, the schedules, the overload of information and communication – can often overwhelm and cause us to lose this vital inner connection.

The Art & Spirit of Leadership is a unique leadership development program designed to help you reconnect with the leader within. Through the Circle of Trust approach, developed by educator and author Parker J. Palmer, you’ll have the opportunity to reflect on, renew and develop your inner wisdom and the courage to act on it.  You will learn practices that help you:

• Strengthen your resilience and well-being with new tools that help you to reflect and act upon what matters most
• Create trustworthy relationships to improve collaboration and effectiveness
• Use new approaches to listening and asking questions
• Manage the complexities and tensions of the organisation and/or system in which you work
• Develop the capacity to lead a more, authentic, meaningful and engaged life, both personally and professionally

​You can download a brochure here or contact Mennie for further information.

In conversation with a colleague recently, I was dismayed to hear that we shouldn't use the word ‘heart’ when talking about leadership development.  Apparently ‘heart’ is frowned upon because it has subjective connotations which don’t sit well with the constant demand today for objective, measurable data.  Talk of the leader’s heart moves us into the realms of human feelings and intuition, both of which are clearly unmeasurable and, worse still, somewhat mysterious.  So this simply won’t do in today’s organisational environment which requires strong, objective, outcome-driven leadership.

As I said, I was dismayed - in fact I was disheartened - because I refer to ‘heart’ regularly when I'm talking about what we each bring to our work in the world – e.g. “the teacher’s heart” – “the leader’s heart”.  To me, ‘heart’ is so much more than simply the centre of our emotions and feelings.  When I refer to ‘heart’, I'm talking about the very core of our being, the place where we bring together our intellect, our knowledge and experience, our values and beliefs, and yes, also, our feelings and intuition.  When we’re able to operate from a place where all these parts of ourselves are integrated, feelings and intuition become an important source of creativity and wisdom.  From this integrated centre we are able to step back and separate from our ego, and recognise how ego loves to control our lives with fear, ambitions and desire.  Once freed from the controlling influence of the ego, we find we have the courage to show up in the world with all of ourselves, with our strengths and weaknesses, our successes and failures.  From this integrated centre we also can find a deeper sense of purpose in life and the courage to stand up and strive for what we believe in.

The domain of the heart is also where we develop our human capacity for making meaningful connections and building rich, respectful and trustworthy relationships with ourselves, with others and with our shared environment.

For me, the word ‘heart’ signifies the source of our personal integrity and it is central to our sense of humanity.
​
I believe the world needs more leaders with heart.

Today – September 1st – which in New Zealand is the first day of Spring, seems the perfect occasion to announce that the seeds of Courage & Renewal work in New Zealand have made important new growth.  Rodger Spiller and I, with mentor Rick Jackson alongside, have led two wonderful retreats over two weekends – Courage to Teach and Courage to Lead.  I'm in awe of the transformative power of poems, of the way our participants were so ready to engage deeply with this work, and of the personal insights that emerged from our Circles of Trust.  I feel heartfelt gratitude to the poets and writers for the gifts they so generously offer the world. 

While on retreat over dinner one evening, I mentioned my quest to build my library of NZ poems, and Lesley, a school counsellor, offered her favourite – the poem she keeps at hand to help sustain her in her daily work.   It is too good to keep to myself …….

The Bridge
 
There are times in life
when we are called to be bridges,
not a great monument spanning a distance
and carrying loads of heavy traffic
but a simple bridge
to help one person from here to there
over some difficulty
such as pain, fear, grief, loneliness,
a bridge which opens the way
for ongoing journey.

 When I become a bridge for another,
I bring upon myself a blessing, for I escape
from the small prison of self
and exist for a wider world,
breaking out to be a larger being
who can enter another’s pain
and rejoice in another’s triumph.

I know of only one greater blessing
in this life, and that is
to allow someone else
to be a bridge for me.

                                                Joy Cowley

In his recent blog On the Brink of Everything, Parker Palmer reminds us how easy it is to lose touch with a sense of wonder in our daily lives.  Our senses become accustomed to – even worse, they become addicted to - the over-stimulation of flashing images and life’s frantic noise and pace.  Boredom becomes the enemy, and we avoid it at all costs.

A lot can be learned from watching young children.  For them, life is so new.  They are able to see ‘the miraculous in the mundane’.  Better still, they’re not afraid of risking ridicule when they express their ‘wow!’ moments about life’s wonders.  Sadly, that fear comes later.

I love this video of 15 month old Kayden experiencing rain for the first time.  It reminds me to take time out, away from the screens and the noise and the pace, to slow down and notice – really notice – the many wonders that life has to offer me.

I was delighted to read this Huffington Post article below, which sings the praises of Courage & Renewal work in US schools.  Schools are relationship-centred organisations, and open, trusting relationships between teachers and students, teachers and their colleagues, and teachers and parents are key to raising student achievement.   Yet the current emphasis in education on accountability and measurable outcomes is more likely to foster fear than trust in the hearts of teachers.  

As a Facilitator in preparation with the Center for Courage & Renewal, I am happy to be able to offer this work to NZ educators.   As an introduction, I invite you to join me in August 2015 in Hamilton to participate in the first Courage to Teach retreat to be held in New Zealand.  See the Event Calendar for details.