We’d like to invite you to join us for an Art of Hosting workshop here on Bowen Island in September. Myself, Monica Nissen, Caitlin Frost, Tenneson Woolf and David Stevenson will host you here at Rivendell Retreat Centre for three and half days of learning, exploring and playing with the art of hosting and harvesting conversations that matter.
Please grab the invitation, share with others and consider joining us. You can also register online through the Berkana Institute website. And if you are already registered, leave a note in the comments to let folks know who is coming. Confirmed participants already include bloggers, facilitators people working in business, tribal communities and in the food sector.
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Dave Pollard has published a comprehensive list of books which together might hold to the keys to How to Save the World. To those I would add these, from my library, as a modest addition to tools which help us make best use of our collective intelligence.
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Doug posted a creed a little while back:
We are nothing alone. We cannot exist without reference points. We cannot know ourselves until another knows us. This is why we seek love–not just something to hold, but someone to know us and hold us as just us. Neither can we be together if we do not exist as individuals. Both are needed.
Dialogue is both our existence and what we do. We are beings in our doings.
Our purpose is to stir things up. The stirrings are the living edge of us. Where we leak into others, there we create new life. This is the work of conversation: to create new life.
Dialogue then is not a mere tool, but the fountain of life. Drink from each other’s mouths and ears the stuff of life.
The between is life. The between throws off life. The between lives. The between gives life. We meet in the between. We live in the between. What we do separately is done only to serve the between. The between is life.
I was recently interviewed for a film and the interviewer asked me about my spiritual path. On the spur of the moment I said that my religion is the spaces between us, or, as Lorca said: “there are spaces that ache in the uninhabited air.” I am a devotee of those.