January 18, 2003
Today, people all around the world are gathering to communicate a simple message: PEACE. In fact, every day, nearly everywhere on earth, people have been doing the same thing for many millennia, though usually without needing to resort to massive rallies. Since at least the middle of the last century, our species has possessed the technical capability to ensure its own nearly total extinction--and yet the common desire for mutually beneficial coexistence has, for the most part, prevailed, and the worst-case scenarios have not occurred. As we face what appears to be an attempt to instigate a perpetual, ever-expanding "war against evil" by the current US administration, I find some comfort in remembering that most people want to live in peace, and will not consciously take steps that escalate the threat of violence to or violation of themselves or others.
The fact that we are still alive on this planet, after all the events of the last century that might have led us down the road to nuclear winter or another doomsday scenario, is, in some measure, a miracle--but it is a miracle that we the living, and those who have lived before us, have made possible. Collectively, we have always managed to tame the greatest excesses of passion, expression, and violence that prod deluded individuals and whole societies toward Armageddon; wisdom, compassion, and love of life have always proved to be the stronger forces. The world is still full of suffering, but, through some grace that we have allowed to manifest through us, we are still living together, trying to help one another, curious about one another, co-existing on this earth despite our differences.
Common people do not want war--do not want to inflict on others that which they do not want inflicted on themselves. Common people would rather celebrate, come together in community, build their homes and neighborhoods, find avenues to express what is important to them, share with and help one another, be awed and fascinated by their natural surroundings, develop understanding of their place in the universe, laugh together, make music, enjoy life. In one sense, peace rallies are huge block parties for those for whom life is too precious to spend plotting others' deaths.
Yet intuitive wisdom does not always prevail on the national and international political stages. Political figures at the highest levels of power do not lead lives that are even remotely normal within their societies. They meet no one outside of their inner circles without bodyguards present; they don't generally cook, clean, garden, or go on hikes. Most would never think of "baring witness" at a peace rally, and few get together with one another to play music, dance, and sing. As Bob Dylan once said, "This land is your land and this land is my land, sure, but the world is run by those that don't listen to music anyway."
How do we communicate with such people? In some cases, it may be more important to express ourselves, and be heard by one another, than to be understood by someone who is not yet capable of understanding. Someone able to utter (with uncharacteristic, chilling clarity) the sentence "We will export death and violence to the four corners of the earth in defense of this great nation" (George W. Bush) is not at the top of my list of people likely to understand a message of peace. Luckily, one person or small group cannot make all the decisions about such matters for very long.
But communication does not come easily even to those committed to a path of peace. For one thing, we live in a culture where advertising, commerce, mass media, and high technology have changed what we think of and experience as "communication." As environmental educator David Orr notes in his excellent book The Nature of Design, the results of most advances in communication technology are "mixed at best": "more and more of us are instantly wired to the global nervous system with cell phones, beepers, pagers, fax machines, and e-mail. If useful in real emergencies, the overall result is to homogenize the important with the trivial, making everything an emergency and an already frenetic civilization even more frenetic. ... In our public affairs and our private lives we are, I think, increasingly muddle-headed because we have mistaken volume and speed of information for substance and clarity." (The Nature of Design: Ecology, Culture, and Human Intention, by David W. Orr. Oxford University Press, New York, 2002, p. 47.)
True communication requires that we slow down, come together with one another, and truly listen. Well-trained in less-than-optimal communication techniques, most of us need to learn how to restore this substance, clarity, and heart to what and how we communicate with one another. I'm sure all of us have participated in groups of supposedly like-minded people which melted down as a result of internal squabbles. The practices of council and compassionate communication described in this issue offer hope, especially when used within an evolving culture in which the voices of all parts of creation are listened to and respected. Ecopsychology, "reindigenation," permaculture, practical techniques such as haybox cooking, and the kinds of personal development and other workshops described in our center insert, all comprise pieces of the puzzle as well.
True communication, like deep wisdom, is not necessarily instantaneous or fast. In fact, the practical methods of effective communication--and of living in harmony with ourselves, others, and the earth-- are deliberate, slow, and nuanced. But they're the only things that can last, and they give us a much more promising future than war.
Thanks for reading TL.
©2003 Talking Leaves
Spring 2003
Volume 13, Number 1
Communication & Eco-Culture
IN-DIG-E-NOUS: adj. 1) Occurring or living naturally in an area; native.
2) Intrinsic, innate.
"We see in the present best efforts of groups of non-Indians an honest desire to become indigenous in the sense of living properly with the land."
-Vine Deloria. Jr. (Sioux historian)
One does not take as good care of a place when they imagine they are only visiting. In this age of constant migration, the best hope for the suffering environment may lie in people of every race and culture settling down and committing to a place that speaks to them, heeding the implorings of its spirit and tending to its needs. The survival of myriad other species, and the future of humanity as well, may hinge on the degree to which we are able to set aside our comfortable habits, preconceptions, and assumptions--and re-become conscious participants, discovering what it means to be native again.
Now more than ever we need to look to the remaining land-based tribal peoples, and to the qualities and possibilities of primal mind. Indigenous modes of perception become all the more essential as our modern society reels out of balance both ecologically and spiritually. The land-informed stories of indigenous populations can help us recover our lost awareness of self and place. The knowledge of how to live in balance, in a sustainable way, already exists--in the ways of the ancient ones of every continent. The information is all too often lost along with the unraveling of tribal customs, with time-tested skills and informed insights vanishing as fast as the lands appropriated for development. As our existence and enterprises become increasingly commercial and controlled, our pleasures ever more vicarious, our sense of both culture and place perverted or absent, as both our schedules and our thoughts race ever faster, we can still turn to the people who have lived here and loved here the longest. Turn to the Indian elders, the placed peasants, the Hispanic dirt farmers with their knowledge of weather and wild foods, those nomads still following the reindeer and the seasons, the Kayapo and their jungle pharmacy. We must turn to them, not in order to emulate or simulate, but in a respectful search for the truths that are our birthright, for what it means to truly belong.
For all the differences in the world views and cosmologies of indigenous peoples, there are certain qualities they generally share in common. From the Saami of the northern edge of Scandinavia to the Australian Aborigine, primal perception is likely to incorporate the following tenets:
2) Life is inspirited and thus sacred with an innate, intrinsic value. The rocks and the lichen that feed on them, the trees and the rain that drips down them, all creatures and all people are vested with spirit, meaning, and purpose.
3) All elements of the sacred whole are interconnected, interdependent, interrelated at the deepest levels...and all should be treated as our relatives. At the root of all personal and societal turmoil is the illusion of separateness, a dis-ease which must be guarded against from birth until death. Since there is no truly "other," all beings are hurt by the dishonoring or degradation of any one.
4) Humanity's additional cognitive abilities position us not above the rest of creation, but sorely in need of deliberate rituals to keep us grounded in relationship, purpose, and place. Our unique gifts were meant to result not in libertine distraction, but advanced responsibility. Our kind is called to attend to the needs and lessons of the natural world we are a part of...to acknowledge, partake in, protect, and provide for the plants, animals, and waters that in turn nourish, instruct, inspire, and house us.
5) Existence is to be smelled and tasted, embraced and absorbed. No words for food are meant to substitute for the benefits of eating...and all symbols and gestures are meant to bring us deeper into the actual wordless, physical, emotional, and spiritual experiencing of life.
6) Everything in the world functions in part as a message, and all that happens to us, positive or negative, is potentially a valuable lesson. All truths and all beings are tested, and it is through these challenges that we earn our blessings, demonstrate our qualifications, validate our worth, manifest our love.
7) Spiritual knowledge or power requires the complete, painful dissolution of illusion and the fearful societal self...and a committed realignment and recommitment according to the designs of Spirit and Place.
8) Such designs exist for all things, heeding the imperatives of Gaian rhythm, pattern, and will.
9) All life and energy seek to circle--to return to its migrational origins, to spin in the grass before settling down nose to tail. All there is is an eternal now, rolling over in place like a salmon, exposing in turn each of its sides Summer to Fall, Winter to Spring, first night and then day. And all things are a part of a gifting cycle. By failing to give back, we lose privileged access to the most important gifts.
10) The hero's quest moves towards and never away from authentic self and inspirited place, heightened awareness and applied magic, meaning and mission...a true journey home.
We each become more indigenous to the degree that we reside in our primal minds, in place, in the bosom of the land, in the lap of the moment. Becoming: coming to be, learning how to really be, coming onto and into one's self. In re-becoming native, we re-create a contemporary culture, community, vocabulary, spiritual practice, and finally a history true to our mixed-blood ancestry and the urgent and trying times at hand. Along with our grounding comes an almost forgotten humility. We look to the first "two legged" peoples to inhabit this continent for guidance, but we must also each establish our credibility directly with the land. We need to own our deepening connection, the fact that we too belong to the places we're promised to--even as we actively respect the ways of those peoples who showed respect to the land for so long before us.
In time we may come to recognize being native as a condition of relationship...of sensitivity, engagement, reciprocity, and allegiance. To survive, those facing the tests of the next century will have had to learn to be placed. And they're likely to be of ever more mixed blood. They will be the descendants of Shona and Aborigine, Mongol and Semite, Hispanic and Cree, and they will have learned respect. They will be the proud inheritors of the affections of Aphrodite, the temperance of Chuang-Tzu, the resolve of Odin and Ogun, the determination of the Berserkers, and the spirit of Crazy Horse. No matter where they're situate, they'll have survived because they came to know and manifest themselves--completely and unapologetically--as indigenous.
And this alone will have brought them a great peace.
Jesse Wolf Hardin is an acclaimed teacher of Earth-centered spirituality, and author of Kindred Spirits: Sacred Earth Wisdom (SwanRaven, 2001). Wolf offers Gaian teachings and wilderness quests at their riverside sanctuary...while his partner Loba welcomes women for re-wilding workshops, wildfoods gathering, apprenticeships, and celebration! For information on their books and programs, or to host them for festival or conference presentations, contact: The Earthen Spirituality Project & Sweet Medicine Women's Center, Box 516, Reserve, NM 87830, www.concentric.net/~earthway.
©2003 Talking Leaves
Spring 2003
Volume 13, Number 1
Communication & Eco-Culture
In an age of overwhelming mistrust, insecurity, and inequality, humans are anxiously striving for a new way to live. People in industrialized countries have created a culture of fearful, ungrounded, disconnected, isolated human beings. Many individuals see these problems and desire a revolutionary social change in our "civilized" lifestyles. People from all realms of life are beginning to create ways to integrate a more relational and holistic worldview into their current lifestyles. Some people are learning how to change their lives by re-creating how they perceive the world and learning to practice sustainability in their everyday activities.
In this article I will discuss why there is so much discontent in the US, relate it to my experience of living in an intentional community in the summer of 2002, and explore the links between the human psyche and the Earth psyche in the emerging field of ecopsychology and in the practices of permaculture. Together, these practices offer one approach to helping create a socially and ecologically sustainable culture and world.
"If a seed has to grow with a rock on top of it, or in deep shade, or without enough water, it won't unfold into a healthy full-sized plant. It will try--hard--because the drive to become what you were meant to be is incredibly powerful. But at best it will become a sort of ghost of what it could be: pale, undersized, drooping... In the age of ecology, we ourselves are the only creature we would ever expect to flourish in an environment that does not give us what we need! We wouldn't order a spider to spin an exquisite web in empty space, or a seed to sprout on a bare desk top. And yet that is exactly what we have been demanding of ourselves." (Barbara Sher, Wishcraft, 1979)
What are we all striving for? Why are so many people unhappy? We live in a developed country where many of us find all our basic needs for food, air, water, and shelter easily at our fingertips. The only catch is that we just have to play the game: sell our souls to the global corporate economy and mimic the addictive behaviors of our consumer culture; alienate ourselves from truly sensing our feelings. We have enabled ourselves to hide our fears by learning to be numb and creating a culture of fast cars and movies to distract us from our hectic lives. What about trees, wind, and clear water? Do we not need muddy feet, soiled hands, fresh fruit, sunshine, and beauty? How many of us never fall asleep to the sparkly sky?--or wake up to the birds singing in the fresh air? Do we need mirrors, TV, shopping malls, French fries, sexy dates, and SUVs? Instead of fulfillment, the results of our culture are depression, confusion, alienation, searching, drunken nights at bars, chocolate, coffee to stay awake, credit card debt, obesity, heart attacks, cancer, dissatisfaction, and unhappiness.
Most of the environments people are surrounded by in America are fast paced, loud, competitive, isolated, and lonely, with polluted air, water, and food. "Sadly, the despair and the lack of supportive community that too many of us feel is common throughout America" (Cohen, 81). Can a human being truly find peace in such an environment?
If we are willing to listen to ourselves, an instinctive wisdom inside each of us reminds us that there must be more. The world is full of wonders. There is more to life than work and material possession. We need honest, real connection with humans, animals, trees, and ourselves.
So many of our feelings of confusion and disconnection stem from not realizing that we all have the sensory ability to connect with our natural environment. "Our incredible bewilderment (wilderness separation) blinds us from seeing that our many personal and global problems primarily result from our assault on and separation from the natural creation process within and around us" (Cohen, 82). Human psychological health depends on the health of the earth. If the air, water, and food are polluted, so are those beings trying to live in that environment. Yet, if beings experience the fresh air, clean water, abundant tasty whole food, and honest connection with other beings, those beings shall experience mental, physical, and emotional health. The new term, Biophilia, coined by Edward O. Wilson, refers to the innate emotional affiliation that humans have to other living organisms (Wilson, 1993)
Why was this possible for me? I believe it was because I was surrounded by a supportive, understanding, open, honest, and loving group of human beings who made me feel 100% accepted and never judged. I was in a place of security. Being surrounded by holistic, conscious people allowed me to practice interacting with others and myself in a more positive manner.
In addition to the healthy human relationships, the beauty and freshness I was surrounded by day and night was also key to my peaceful experience. Sleeping in a meadow surrounded by huge oak and fir trees, in my tent or just under the stars in the quiet fresh air every night, helped my mental health gain more balance. Cooking and eating in the outdoor kitchen, bathing in the outdoor solar shower, and working in the gardens among the many plants, chickens, and ducks created such a relaxed lifestyle. No cars, traffic, cement, dirty air, lack of shade, or rushing required! Just clean air, trees, open sky, wonderful healthy food, a community of trusting, open friends all around, and peace and harmony with great communication, yoga, meditation, dancing, singing, and swimming.
After I returned to the East Coast, I realized, when connecting my learning of permaculture and my experience of living in a community, that my experience could be encapsulated by the word ecopsychology. I learned how to simultaneously heal myself and practice sustainable farming and living skills, which, I found, innately work together. Social and ecological change happens in all aspects of life, and everyone is playing their unique role in the interdependent web of life.
At the core of ecopsychology is the realization that our relationships with the environment directly affect our relationships with each other (Hodgson, 1). Theodore Roszak, who gave the first definition of ecopsychology, says it is a way of including ecological insight with psychotherapy in such a way that there is a "re-defining of 'sanity' as if the whole world mattered" (Roszak, 1998). Roszak claims there is an ecological intelligence deeply rooted in each human being that is connected to the psyche of the Earth (Roszak, 16).
In the practice of ecopsychology, our sense of place and interconnectedness is strengthened, which results in becoming better "stewards of the land." Therefore, healing the human psyche will lead to healing the earth (Scull, 2).
There is a plethora of diverse practices individuals can engage in to apply ecopsychology in their lives. These can include anything from studying indigenous worldviews and practices in order to cultivate an ecological self identity, or connecting inner and outer realities through experiencing breath awareness, to eschewing mass consumer culture and choosing to practice "mindful presence and loving connection" (Elan Shapiro, 2002).
Many people have offered definitions of permaculture. Bill Mollison, the founder of Permaculture, defines it as "a design system for creating sustainable human environments. On one level, permaculture deals with plants, animals, buildings, and infrastructures (water, energy, communications). However, permaculture is not about these elements themselves, but rather about the relationships we can create between them by the way we place them in the landscape" (Mollison, 1).
Once people gain an "ecopsychological" view of the world, many become interested in learning how to practice permaculture in all aspects of their lives. For some individuals it may be just simply recycling their waste every week; for others, it may be completely changing the value system that they live by and creating a new cultural way of life. Anyone can practice permaculture, in the way they garden, how they design their house, or just simply by being more conscious of the choices they make every day concerning food, energy, and water use. An ecopsychological view of the world sees the intimate relationship between the earth's health and human health, both of which are enhanced by permaculture.
One must be centered, emotionally and mentally clear, to fully grasp the new paradigm of permaculture. From that place of awareness and intention, it is much easier to learn the related practical skills.
Lost Valley Educational Center is very focused on exploring human relationships and connections in the context of a peaceful, healthy, natural environment. I believe that experiencing all of this together as an interconnected web of life allowed me to move through one of the most personally transformative experiences of my life. As a result of the community's emphasis on personal growth and connection with others and the natural environment, I have been able to move closer to my vision of living a lifestyle that incorporates permaculture principles. I can now trust my ecopsychological worldview as working for me in terms of being able to see my vision clearly.
Myra McKenney submitted a longer version of this article as her independent paper at Cornell University. She will be graduating in May 2003 and is in search of what to do when she is free from college and where she can find places to start creating a new way of life. If you know of anything you think would be of interest to her, please contact her at [email protected] or at (607) 272-6131 (at Von Cramm Co-op with a phone shared by 30 people).
©2003 Talking Leaves
Spring 2003
Volume 13, Number 1
Communication & Eco-Culture
"Revolutionary Kitchen Device Guarantees
If the above were an actual ad, it would likely provoke a few questions:
(1) Is this just a lot of hype, a quick-sell con job?
(The answer is, fortunately, no. This essential kitchen device is not a fraudulent marketing ploy but an easy-to-build item, and it actually performs as described.)
(2) If such a device exists, why doesn't everyone have one?
(I don't know. Everyone should have one. We live in a commercial culture where do-it-yourself ecological practices are not promoted because they don't make anyone a fast buck or increase the GNP. More education is necessary.)
(3) How can my household or community get one?
(It's easy: make it yourself.)
The device I've described is a haybox, also known as a retained-heat cooker, insulated cooker, or wonder box. Of all the sustainable technologies I've encountered in my years of living in community, it's the one that is the most universally applicable and appropriate. In short, every community and household should have one--or ideally, more than one. We at Lost Valley Educational Center have five; Aprovecho Research Center (which has led the way in educating about them) has at least half a dozen; other intentional communities, urban cooperatives, co-housing and activist groups are discovering them; and some eco-pioneers are even whispering about installing hayboxes in the White House once it is recaptured from its current occupiers in 2004. Good for people, good for the earth, and good for our country, hayboxes are the essence of patriotism. In fact, only terrorists wouldn't like them.
Hayboxes work on the simple principle that if the heat applied to food in the cooking process can be retained within that food, rather than lost to the environment, no "replacement heat" is needed to keep the food cooking. In conventional cooking, any heat applied to a pot after food reaches boiling temperatures is merely replacing heat lost to the air by the pot. In haybox cooking, food is brought to a boil on the stove, simmered for a few minutes (5 minutes for rice or other grains, 15 minutes for large dry beans or whole potatoes), then put into an insulated box, where it completes its cooking. Food will be ready in anywhere from one to one-and-a-half times the "normal" completion time, with no tending needed and no danger of burning, and will stay piping hot for many hours, allowing maximum flexibility in the cook's and the eaters' schedules. For grains or beans, water is reduced by one-quarter, because water is retained within the food rather than simmered away into the air (it's important to use pots with tight-fitting lids in haybox cooking). The larger the quantity cooked, the more effective this technique is (the hotter the food will stay, for longer), because increased thermal mass holds more heat. And because most of the cooking occurs in the 180 degrees F-212 degrees F range, rather than at a constant 212 degrees , more flavor and nutrients are preserved.
As in conventional cooking, presoaking and draining beans makes them easier to cook and to digest. A few particularly long-cooking foods, such as garbanzo beans, may need reboiling part-way through the cooking process. For health reasons, meat dishes should always be reboiled before serving--but all other foods should be safe to eat straight out of the haybox. (However, don't put a partially-eaten pot of lukewarm food back into the haybox without first reheating it, since hayboxes are not only excellent cookers but also ideal incubation chambers for yogurt and other bacteria-rich food.)
Hayboxes are easy to construct through a variety of methods. The haybox itself is any kind of insulated container that can withstand cooking temperatures and fits relatively snugly around the pot. Effective insulation materials include hay, straw, wool, feathers, cotton, rice hulls, cardboard, aluminum foil, newspaper, fiberglass, fur, rigid foam, and others. The insulation is placed between the rigid walls of a box, within a double bag of material, or lining a hole in the ground. Campers have created "instant hayboxes" by wrapping a sleeping bag, blankets, and/or pillows around a pot. The most effective insulating materials create many separate pockets of air, which slow down the movement of heat. Two to four inches of thickness, depending on the material, are necessary for good insulation. Some materials, such as aluminum foil or mylar, actually reflect heat back toward the pot.
Any material used must withstand temperatures up to 212 degrees F without melting (exposed styrofoam won't work), and without releasing toxic fumes or dangerous fibers (rigid foam and fiberglass both need to be covered). The insulation also must be dry, and be kept dry (an inner layer of aluminum foil or mylar can help prevent cooking moisture from entering the wall of the box). The box should be as snug-fitting as possible around the pot, with a tight seal so that heat does not escape from the cooking cavity. Build your haybox to fit your largest pot; for smaller pots in the same box, you can increase performance by wrapping towels, blankets, or pillows around the pot.
Hayboxes used on a regular basis or in a group setting need to be durable: I'd recommend constructing a wooden box, with a "hat" type lid (so that the opening is at the bottom, to minimize heat loss). Attach handles to make lifting this upper section easier, and line the inner walls with mylar if possible (it can be salvaged from used food storage containers, balloons, etc.). If you can't find mylar, be prepared to replace your aluminum foil lining periodically. Depending on where you are using the haybox, you may want to attach casters to the bottom of your base. Find a good place to store and use your haybox, within or easily accessible to the kitchen.
One final guarantee: once you're a haybox devotee, you will never willingly go back to conventional methods of preparing pots of grains, beans, or long-cooking soups again, especially if you're feeding a group. Happy cooking!
A different version of this article first appeared in the Summer 2002 issue of Communities: Journal of Cooperative Living (see www.ic.org).
For further information, contact Aprovecho Research Center, 80574 Hazelton Rd., Cottage Grove, OR 97424, (541) 942-8198, [email protected], www.efn.org/~apro.
Chris Roth is a haybox devotee living at Lost Valley Educational Center.
©2003 Talking Leaves
Spring 2003
Volume 13, Number 1
Communication & Eco-Culture
My first memory of "council" was at summer camp. I was seven. We were told that Sunday night was to be Council Fire. It was my favorite part of camp. We filed into the circle around the fire to the beat of a tom-tom, two lines of girls from the tallest to the shortest. We prayed to Great Spirit as the fire was lit and three older girls uttered sacred pledges as they lit red, white, and blue candles to love, health, and happiness. The director gave a talk, many girls received awards, and we sang together into the night sky.
Those moments in circle were magical for me and set the course of my life to work with groups. The kind of community that develops when people sit together in a circle over a period of time has become essential to my well-being. I now sit in many such circles-praying, singing, listening, making pledges, and striving to find ways of communicating at a soul level. For years I have pursued a question: what enables a community to develop soul connections with one another and keep those relationships flowing, loving, honest, current, and clear? And further, when things get rough or people get hurt, how do you heal the wounds, the slights, the misunderstandings, and the differences of opinion that inevitably arise in any group or relationship over time? In short, by what means do we fulfill that dream of living together well?
My life has been directed towards finding or creating the answers to these questions. I have been on many journeys with many groups exploring many different tools, techniques, and trainings. Today, almost a half-century later, I come back to the simplest of these: sitting together in council. I am continually awe-struck by the power and magic that happen when people listen and speak with one another using the simplest of guidelines as a structure.
Council is a very ancient tool for communicating with others, where each person's voice is heard, honored, and respected. Indigenous cultures, religious, social and government institutions, even kids on the playground use council. Every one of you reading this has been in some type of council. It seems so simple that we often take it for granted and miss its power. We don't recognize its magic. We all know how to sit in a circle and listen to others. Or do we?
When I first learned Council as a formal practice, from Gigi Coyle and Jack Zimmerman at the Ojai Foundation,[1] I didn't initially appreciate the subtle magic that would arise out of making the agreements and boundaries around council more conscious. I knew the mysteries of going around a circle and having everyone share. But why does lighting a candle and offering an intention before initiating a council change the nature of the conversation? And why does a talking piece make such a difference from just sharing around a circle? What is the result of limiting speaking to only the person holding the talking piece, allowing no comment or interruption from others? What I have discovered is that these simple structures make an incredible, if sometimes subtle difference. They allow the speaking to come from a different, deeper place. They create a temenos[2], a sacred space in which the soul feels safe to come forward. Something magical happens, a mystery that continues to reveal itself to me as I continue to practice council.
There are many reasons to call a council. A person may recognize a need to deepen, clarify, or resolve a relationship between individuals or in a group. Council can be used to gather information, to read the pulse of a group, or to make decisions. Everyone involved agrees to participate at a specific time and place. The topic can be chosen by the caller of the council or agreed upon by the participants. It helps to have a central altar or focus, which can be as simple as a flower or a candle. A dedication for the council, spoken out loud, with or without lighting a candle, sets the intention that orients the direction of the council's unfolding. A talking piece is chosen which can also be as simple as a rock, a stick, a shell or a flower, or some more elaborate sacred object that has meaning to the group. All participants agree only to speak when they hold the talking piece and not to make comments when others are speaking.
There are four basic guidelines for participating in council:
1) Listen from the heart
2) Speak from the heart.
3) Be spontaneous.
4) Be lean.
I put Listen from the heart first, for most of council and most of any real communication is about listening. The point is to listen fully to each person, staying present for what he or she is saying and not rehearsing what you are going to say. This has its own magic, for when you listen from your heart, it is like opening your arms and receiving the other person. They know it and feel it and something comes forward from them that wouldn't otherwise. They unfold as deeper, more thoughtful, and more concerned people in front of your eyes. When you listen from your heart, you hear what's going on underneath their words and it becomes increasingly difficult to judge them.
Speaking from the heart asks us to pause, slow down, breathe, and tune into our deeper self. We drop into our vulnerability and our truth, letting our souls do the talking and not just our heads or our reactions. Speaking from the heart could be a guideline for any utterance, at any time, anywhere. I use it as a mantra, continually reminding myself that my intention is to speak from my heart.
Being spontaneous is another way of saying, "you don't have to rehearse to be yourself." People are infinitely more interested in hearing our real, authentic feelings and thoughts than what we think we should say or have planned to say. Letting go of our "performers" and just being direct and honest with whatever comes up takes us into soul relationship with our listeners. We all long for places where we can just tell the truth without having to look good.
Being lean means saying what is essential, what needs to be said. Sometimes we need to say a lot, but we all have been in situations where someone in a circle loses consciousness of the others and rambles on and on. Less is often more. Lean is important whether we are in a dyadic council with our partner working on the issues of relationship or in a group sharing our responses to an event. It implies that you have listened to what else has been said and only need to say what has not been said. Your piece adds to a whole that emerges from everyone. One of the great mysteries of council is that the whole, when everyone has said their small piece, is infinitely more magical and beautiful than the sum of its parts might imply.
These four guidelines, coupled with offering a dedication to the council and insisting that only the person who has the talking piece can talk, create a sacred structure that transforms ordinary conversation into very different kind of dialogue which carries the quality of a soul communion. Suddenly one feels safe to speak the deeper truths. Everything is changed by these simple adjustments to our speaking with each other. It is amazing that something so simple could work so well.
Yet it does. I so trust the process of council that whenever I want to deepen the connection or open into a soul dialogue with someone or a group, I call for a council. This has taken me into some interesting situations and through some difficult territories, yet always the result is more understanding, more compassion, more love, and more connection with others. Ultimately, I come away from any council in awe of what fabulous, intricate, delicate beings we are and the power we have to learn and grow with and from one another.
I now open and close all workshops with a council. An opening council is almost always about where each individual is in their lives at the moment. I have come to learn that wherever it is, if you speak it, it will move and you will become more present and attuned to the whole. What unfolds through every one's participation is always richer, truer, and more beautiful than I could have imagined. Even when someone brings up very difficult material for the group to deal with, someone later in the council will offer a completely different perspective that resolves the issue. The knowledge that everyone will be heard allows each individual to relax and be present. Even when you yourself are carrying the difficult material, just getting to speak your few words moves your energy and you can get on with what's next.
An ending council helps integrate any group experience by allowing the learnings to be named. There is a satisfaction that comes from this naming that completes the energy of a group and lets it be released. In our Vision Fast work, where we take people out into the desert for 11-day wilderness quests[3], council is an essential part of incorporating the quest into daily life. Our being able to speak our stories makes them more real to us. Deep listening to another person's story helps us understand our own experiences more deeply. A particularly moving ending council found me in a wooded clearing near a Hill Tribe village in Northern Thailand, after a 24-hour solo in the forest. Buddhist monks, American seekers, and activists from all over the world spoke their experiences in council at the end of a ten-day bearing witness walk. Whatever the depth and beauty of our own journey, it was magnified exponentially with every other person's experience. A solidarity occurred across racial, ethnic, religious, national, and gender lines that remains to this day one of my most inspiring examples of hope for the human race.
Another inspiration of hope is arising out of a Los Angeles pilot project that introduced council in a middle school eleven years ago. Based on a nineteen year old program begun at Crossroads School, council is proving effective in creating respectful and honoring communication amongst kids from diverse and often hostile backgrounds. There are now well over 3000 elementary, middle, and high school students experiencing council on a weekly basis throughout Los Angeles, with additional programs well underway in Boulder, Colorado and other cities.[4] Imagine being in the seventh grade and learning to speak to your peers about what was really concerning you in your life?
My most profound council experience happened last October at the first meeting of the International Wilderness Guides Council, held in Germany. In the center of a circle of 120 guides from all over the world, dedicated to restoring wilderness rites of passage, we held country councils. Ten people from each country would address the questions: What is the greatest challenge in being from your country and what are your greatest resources? The Germans went first, then the South Africans, followed by the Americans. The passion and power of each person's struggle with pride and shame, frustration and inspiration, insecurity and determination linked all of us at a heart level that completely transcended any national boundaries.
I so long for the kind of soul connections that come through council that I like to call a council to deepen all kinds of events. The results always astound me. For Christmas one year, we did a council with my husband's family. The ages ranged from 85 to 5, with numerous mid-lifers and a smattering of teenagers. I never would have imagined the thoughtfulness and perception of the teenagers nor the five-year-old's immediate grasp of what we were doing. She let the stick pass by her several times. Then when it was her turn again, she held it strongly and uttered the most profound sentence of the evening: "I think we should all just love each other and be nice." To bring in this New Year we invited our friends over for a party that ended with a council. This has been a challenging year for all of us and to speak of that along with our hopes and intentions for the New Year brought our whole community together.
With friends, I've found council to be the tool that course corrects our relationships and clears up all the niggly stuff that over time separates people. When we had a couple live with us for several months, council helped us remember that we loved one another, as well as our greater purpose for being together. Hearing where the other person was coming from immediately evaporated the unexpressed hurts and secret judgments. After a recent vacation with another couple, I called a council to acknowledge what impacted us on our very rich journey together. Something essential is incomplete without this pause to reflect, to listen and speak from the heart.
By far the most important use of council for me has been in my personal relationship with my husband. We are together a lot. We live, work, and travel together. We have a lot of long deep conversations in the car. But nothing touches sitting opposite each other, lighting a candle, and passing the talking stick back and forth. It changes what we talk about, what we can talk about, and certainly how we talk about it. If I am listening and speaking from the heart, I have to treat him with respect and care. I simply can't look him in the eye, open my heart, and then be mean. I have to say whatever I say, however difficult it is to say it, in a way that honors him. I am quickened into my best self, the one who can be angry and still be compassionate, the one who can see what is going on without bludgeoning him with it, the one who can take a breath, let go a little of the control, and trust in the power of speaking the truth. Council is an essential practice for any couple dedicated to conscious loving relationship.[5]
The most personally challenging councils are those I've called when I am having difficulty with another person. If I know that the issues are particularly complex and/or I have a lot of emotion around the issues and know that I am not clear, I will call a Witness Council, asking one or more other people whom we each respect, trust, and love to witness the exchange. While obviously more powerful face-to-face, I've done these councils with breakthrough results over the phone and even on e-mail. The council is still dedicated, either spoken or in writing, and I still light a candle when I write, or we all light our own candle when we talk over the phone.
The purpose of the council is to come to truth and resolution or to realize that resolution is not yet possible. I never know what the resolution will be, but I trust that there is one if we all agree to the rules of council. Agreement is key. Calling for the council itself is the beginning of naming that there is a conflict and that there is an intention to resolve it in a sacred way. Half of the work is already done. Having an agreed upon witness who will then hold the council, witness the conversation, and make observation comments where appropriate does most of the rest. It is difficult to lie, steal, cheat, exaggerate, project, or blame when someone you respect is witnessing your conversation with someone you love with whom you are in conflict The very structure ensures that you hear the other side and have compassion for it.
The results of these Witness Councils in our groups have been phenomenal. Individuals have healed old wounds, come into new fruitful relationships with people they previously have had difficulty with, and cleared those unexpressed feelings and missing conversations that so stultify a group energy field. It has become our primary tool for maintaining good relationships within our groups.
The magic happens by sitting opposite each other, lighting a candle and dedicating the council, looking in each other's eyes, and passing the talking stick back and forth or to the witness. Listen from the heart. Speak from the heart. Be spontaneous. Be lean. Watch and feel what happens as you speak and listen. Cry, yell, tell the truth, but always treat the other with respect and honor. If you have someone in your life willing to sit in council with you, you have a friend with whom you can work through anything.
And is that not the point? Aren't we searching for ways to keep our communications and communities clean and strong and thriving? Our relationships are not ever going to be perfect. We are not static beings. Stuff will come up. The world is changing rapidly around us and we are all struggling to find our authentic response. Other people will always push the buttons of our own unresolved internal material. Council provides an ongoing sacred structure to talk through what we are experiencing in a way that allows us to remain loving, kind and truthful companions on the journey. I encourage you to call your own council.
[1] See The Way of Council by Jack Zimmerman and Virginia Coyle, Bramble Books, 1996.
[2] Temenos is a Greek work that means the boundary line of the temple. In an ancient temple, when you passed through the gates in the temenos wall, you were inside the sacred precinct. It is a term also used in depth psychology to describe the safe setting a therapist creates by establishing a regular place and time for appointments, which allows the deeper psyche to express itself.
[3] For more information, contact the Naos Foundation, www.naosfoundation.org and click on Vision Fast. [4] Contact the Center for Council Training at the Ojai Foundation, Ojai, CA.
[5] For a deeper exploration of how to use council in a couple's relationship, see Flesh and Spirit by Jack Zimmerman and Jaquelyn McCandless, Bramble Books, 1998.
Lynnaea Lumbard, Ph.D. has been a workshop leader in transformational psychology for over thirty years. In 1986, she co-founded Temenos Associates, a national seminar company. More recently, she and her husband, Rick Paine, formed Naos Foundation ( www.naosfoundation.org), which offers training programs in the sacred arts. They also guide Wilderness Quests in the Utah Canyonlands. For more information contact [email protected] .
©2003 Talking Leaves
Spring 2003
Volume 13, Number 1
Communication & Eco-Culture