Dear John, I read your message late last night just before going to sleep, and found myself still thinking about it as I woke this morning.
Part of what is important to me in your message is the reminder that the pain-anger-justice aspect of all of this is the primary emotion being felt by so many. I have thought this week about those in this community who may have lost a loved one or who may, like you, have experienced a close call. I wondered if the ideas being expressed here felt wrong, or insensitive, or harmful to some on this list. And I've wondered if those who felt that way would feel this is safe enough space to express those feelings. I hope so. You wrote: > If we (in this on-line conversation) were facilitators in a ballroom > filled > with wide-eyed expectant souls, we'd commit ourselves to keeping the > open > space free from space invaders. When I first started reading about open space (a scant few weeks ago), the only aspects of the process that did not resonate with me were the idea that some people should be silenced or excluded, and the idea that the facilitator would and should be able to identify those "invaders" who deserve exclusion. Even now, with all that has happened, I still find myself fearing exclusion more than I fear hijacked planes. I believe our individual and collective decisions to exclude others is the source of many of our sorrows, including the present one. I think those who feel genuinely welcome and included don't attack. Why would they? You also wrote: With reasonable men I will > reason, but I will not relinquish the freedom and opportunity to > participate in the co-creation of our future. There's more to holding > space than opening it. We must also pay attention to what's in the > space. I agree wholeheartedly with your words, with this interpretation: I am unwilling to relinquish my freedom and opportunity to participate in the co-creation of our future, and I am unwilling to attempt to exclude any Other from that same opportunity. I believe we are all a part of a gigantic puzzled being trying to figure itself out. If we exclude any part, the puzzle becomes incapable of solution. I fear exclusion because exclusion limits my/our access to information about me/us, about the human condition, about who we are and what we need to heal. I want to heal, both individually and collectively. I need every piece of information, of truth, to achieve that goal. The only way I/we can get all the information I/we need is to include everyone. All the time. I also agree with you about paying attention to what's in the space. I'm in the space. I need to pay attention to the only aspect of the room I can control. I need to stay open. I need to open wide enough to keep including everyone and everything, even when I'm scared or uncertain. I trust that when I do so, opportunities for deeper understanding will emerge, and things will eventually become less scary and less uncertain. That's when I'll know the healing has begun. You wrote: > Harrison said that he hoped we had enough love to go around. The > wonderful > thing about love is that all of us can make love. This term -- make > love > -- has been commonly reserved to describe the satisfaction of human > desire. > But it has a larger meaning. We can always make more love. We can > always > make enough. We can make it abound -- if only we will. If only we > will > give space to love in our hearts and let it guide our thoughts and > actions. Yes! And then: > Peace has always had a price. There are many voices on this list -- > silent > and audible -- who have lived enough history so as not to be > shortsighted > in wisdom, vision and action. And there are as many, I imagine, who > are > young enough to have as much to learn as they want (and have) to > share. > Peace is so illusive -- the kind of peace that is rich with freedom. > I > don't want a peace that lets freedom ebb, rendering me equally > enslaved > alongside my fellow-man. I want a peace that renders me fully free > and > fully equal, both at the same time. And again, yes. I am only at peace when I am fully alive, fully loving, fully safe, fully certain. When I allow myself to fear bullets, planes or death I am not at peace. I will never be at peace as long as I fear those things. True peace comes from an inner space that knows no fear. If we want peace, we must seek it where it lives. We will never find it where it lives not. The sun is shining on the gold-dappled aspen trees outside my window. I greet the day. Much love, Julie * * ========================================================== [email protected] ------------------------------ To subscribe, unsubscribe, change your options, view the archives of [email protected], Visit: http://listserv.boisestate.edu/archives/oslist.html
