Dear Chris, To read this story cracks further open something in each of us too. Thank you, it's breathtaking, and from such beautifully ordinary human ingredients. And I am also awed that you basically text messaged the whole thing to us, typing it by thumb! You are a harvest artist of great devotion, and insight, and it is much appreciated.
love, Christy Christy Lee-Engel, ND, LAc cell: 206.399.0868 http://oneskywellness.com "The opposite of life is not death. The opposite of life is time." Morris Graves On Sun, Sep 13, 2009 at 10:16 AM, Chris Corrigan <chris.corri...@gmail.com>wrote: > A story from some work I did last week: > > “My grandmother was the one that inspired me,” said my friend Liz over > lunch at the Valley Inn in Bella Coola. “She said that the world was once > all together, and then it came apart and one day it will be all together > again. So I just try to bring things together.” > > Liz is a pretty remarkable woman. She worked for years in family > reunification in Vancouver, bringing together First Nations kids with their > birth families, reconnecting them to their culture and communities. She is > at home now in Bella Coola on council, working for the Ministry as a social > worker, but always about bringing people together. The reason I am here, > for these two days of community conversations, is simply to be a part of > designing and hosting community meetings that do that. > > The Nuxalk Nation reserves sit in this stunning valley, at the mouth of the > Bella Coola River, where it meets the ocean at North Bentinck Arm, still > nearly 150 kilometres inland from the open Pacific coast. At the Bella > Coola town site is an old cannery, an icehouse and a wharf. There are a > couple of hotels and restaurants, a Coop store, some repair shops and and > RCMP station. Across the street from that is one of the Nuxalk communities, > an old part of the reserve called “Downtown.” It mostly consists of old > Department of Indian Affairs Housing, never designed for the wet climate of > the Pacific coast, some trailers that house the band office and a couple of > community buildings and a playground. Yards are full of mullein, plantain > and blackberry bushes and the occasional carved headstone can be seen in a > yard. A small creek winds through the reserve and joins the river on the > north side of the community. At this time of year there are people out on > the river, drift netting their food fish, gathering coho for canning and > smoking. The Nuxalk fisheries personnel are trying to find some sockeye to > take eggs from so they can stock some of the streams and lakes around the > territory. Like everywhere the fish are dwindling. In the past, oolichans > ran through here in the millions, but now only a handful return in the early > spring and the once rich Nuxalk grease, one of the healthiest human produced > foods in the world, is now gone. > > Up the river from here is the newer community of Four Mile, a subdivision > of larger lots and larger houses. Kids roam around on their bikes and young > families are out walking. The houses look like any rural subdivision but > there are telltale signs you are still on Nuxalk lands. Poles dote the > neighbourhood, carving studios take up garage space, and the occasional lawn > has a fish boat parked on it. > > As the Bella Coola valley winds eastward, a few more communities dot the > landscape – Hagensborg is the biggest, another 10 kilometres along highway > 20. It is an old Norwegian settlement, and here the houses look bigger, > more durable, and on large lots featuring manicured lawns and gardens. No > one is outside, the kids get dropped off from the school bus and head right > inside in contrast to the reserves, where the kids scatter in all directions > after school. As highway 20 heads up towards Williams Lake, it climbs the > “hill” a steep grade of narrow switch backs with no guard rail, that is said > by some to be the most terrifying drive in Canada. If you don't fly out, or > leave for Vancouver Island far to the south by ferry, this is the only way > to go. > > This is the valley in which I have been working this week. A place of > stunning natural beauty and deep social alienation. Liz and the Nuxalk > elected chief, Spencer, were both fed up with the kinds of community > meetings that have been going on for years, where people come and yell at > one another, where anger becomes unbottled rage and questions are asked that > have no answers that will ever satisfy. Both realized that how we talk to > one another is important, so we agreed to try an experiment, and see what > might happen if we ran meetings using participatory methodologies. > > The first day was a World Cafe, which I wrote about earlier, and yesterday > we tried an Open Space meeting for a general community meeting. As is not > uncommon, we started very late, once people had arrived, and a pot of moose > stew appeared and everyone was settled, it was 5:00 – 90 minutes past the > posted opening. We had about 20 people sitting in a circle wondering what > would happen, and I was wondering the same. Most folks were Band employees, > present to give information and participate in conversations as best they > could. A number had been reluctant to come because they had no idea what > would happen, and feared community members being out of control. “How are > you going to stop people from getting on their high horses?” one man had > asked me. “I'm not,” I replied. “But the way we do this will lessen the > chance of that happening.” He wasn't convinced. It was as if I had just > described the concept of magic to him. I clearly knew my stuff, but that > didn't make me any more in touch with reality. > > After a prayer and a quiet opening welcome, I stepped into the circle, with > really nothing but an invitation to talk differently. We had not been able > to do very much planning, and the notices for the meeting had only gone out > to the community a couple of days before. Still, the invitation was to move > from some visioning that the community had been doing for an Indian Affairs > mandated planning process, to something more based in what the people > wanted. I walked the circle, explained the process, reminded them that they > had the power to set the agenda, and waited for what might happen. > > Always in Open Space meetings, there is this moment of being on the edge of > the complete unknown. All of the preparation and time spent building the > invitation and the theme and the question usually pay off in that moment. > If we have done all of that right and produced a strong social field, the > ideas flood into the centre. But there are times when the conditions don't > tap the passion of the community, when people just remain confused about why > they are there and what they are supposed to do. When they haven't seen > through their cynicism far enough to even listen to the instructions. Those > times only happen if there has been little preparation in the community or > organization. Open Space is not a magic wand – it does not automatically > generate participation. Invitation is the magic wand and Open Space is the > place where the magic can happen. Yesterday, I feared that the wand had not > been well used. That we would be staring at the floor between our feet for > a while. > > But sometimes passion trumps preparation. It turns out that in Nuxalk, > there are plenty of things to talk about. Life is hard for most people. > There is 90% unemployment, the fish are disappearing, huge scale land > rights issues loom over the heads of 1600 people, the language and culture > is hanging by a thread, youth are drinking and drugging and getting > pregnant. It's no wonder really that people shout at community meetings. > It's the last place to rail against the morass of conditions that keeps > these communities poor and out of the loop. The last place where people can > feel their power, even if it comes at the expense of others. > > So last night, as I sat down, four people rose up and we were off. One > Elder who had been a vocal critic of how bad the Council was at > communicating with the people convened a session on how she wanted to see it > done It felt at some level like there was some forgiveness buried in her > question. Let's move on, she seemed to be saying. Let's figure out how to > do this better. > > There were similar sentiments around jobs and youth and culture and > language. Ten small groups were formed, and there was lots of visiting over > the next hour as we did all the sessions in one time slot. Laughter broke > out all around the room. More community members, who had been hanging > around the outside of the hall, joined us. Liz picked up a conversation > that she had started two years ago when I had been here before working with > her. She introduced people to her idea of a community house – an > intergenerational space where people could gather and be with one another. > > As we gathered in the circle at the end, we talked about what it felt like > to be working like this. People had a good feeling towards one another. I > asked when was the last time people had left a community meeting feeling > good. There was hearty laughter. “Never!” said one Elder, her eyes wide > with the absurdity of the question. “Feels good now though,” she said. > > We have a choice. We can meet in ways that get nothing done in the name of > “information sharing” and “accountability” or we can meet in ways which > allow our hearts to set the agenda, and our hands and feet to see it through > to action. We didn't begin massive amounts of work last night, but we > cracked open something – a possibility that it could be different. > Hopefully we opened a jar out of which choice flowed. As Thomas King once > said, you can't pretend not to have heard the story If you were there last > night, you would have seen and felt something different. You can spin it to > say some guy came up from the south and ran this kooky meeting and we talked > in small groups. But no one who was there can deny that it DID feel good at > the end. We felt like something was accomplished. > > What do we dare choose now? > > Liz reminded me that when we worked together two years ago, a young woman > uttered a phrase that is stark in it's power and implication for communities > like Nuxalk: Leadership is seeing the beauty in others. It's to draw > together the world again, as Liz's grandmother says. To heal by making > whole, which is not to say fixing everything, but rather to bring things > closer together. > > As we left the hall last night, Spencer, the chief, waved at a man coming > across the playground. He was a “trooper” one of the small number of > chronic alcoholics in the community who have the hardest time of all. > “What's happening Spence?” the trooper cried out. “Community meeting,” > replied the young chief getting into his truck. “We were just talking.” > > “Oh, mmmhmm,” said the trooper. “That's good.” > > ----- > CHRIS CORRIGAN > http://www.chriscorrigan.com > > Sent from an iPod, typed with thumbs... > > * > * > ========================================================== > * * ========================================================== osl...@listserv.boisestate.edu ------------------------------ To subscribe, unsubscribe, change your options, view the archives of osl...@listserv.boisestate.edu: http://listserv.boisestate.edu/archives/oslist.html To learn about OpenSpaceEmailLists and OSLIST FAQs: http://www.openspaceworld.org/oslist
