Ten years ago on September 6, 2002 I launched this blog with an innocuous little link to an on lie art project ground through Euan Semple. I called the blog Parking Lot, which is the term facilitators use for a flip chart where we record things that are off topic to the subject at hand, but important enough to come back to. Since then I have used this space as my open source learning pad, to explore and grow in the field of facilitation, organizational and community development and random other bits and pieces of living. I’ve had long extended sidelines into poetry and art, music and taekwondo, bits and pieces and threads and buttons that have led somewhere or nowhere, notes that have been quoted, posts that went viral. I’ve met amazing friends, had fleeting fame and even got into a few fights over the years in this little space.
I have often said that this space is the book I will never write – I learn so fast and change my mind so much that a book is almost too static a format for me. If you want to see the book that I will never write, head over to “A Collection of Life’s Lessons” which is a occasionally updated meta blog of this site’s greatest hits. Print all those posts out, make a nice cover and there you have a book. For free.
So this blog has been a saving grace – a place where I can jot down notes, record great links and sources and leave a legacy for my own reference. Over the years, twitter and Facebook have become more and more prevalent in my writing life, and this blog has gone through periods of being neglected and avoided. There are a million links in my twitter feed that are more instantly useful, and I’m trying to get into a rhythm of writing about them a little longer here.
So as the summer falls away and the fall simmers around the corner, join me in raising a glass of whisky and toasting ten years of Parking Lot. Thanks for being along for some of the journey.
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Nice to be back on my home island where we have a sophisticated relationship with time. I’m here briefly, spending some time hiking and camping with my son’s school an then off to the US for three weeks.
Appreciating moments out of time and the flow of being back in my own village.
Sitting in the circle on the last day of our learning village here in Castle Statenberg in Slovenia. These are my initial impressions I am leaving her with.
I came to this place with this community to spend deep time with friends face to face. I came to make art, to sing, and to be a participant in the experience. I craved the freedom of being able to spend long periods of time with old friends and long periods of time investing in new friends as well. For me nothing replaces the power of spending personal time with another human. It allows me to draw on a well of relationship even as we stay connected over time and distance.
When I arrived I was asked from the heart if I would step into to the hosting team, to fill the space left by two of the hosts who couldn’t make it. I agreed, without knowing really what would be involved. Of course there was the role of sensing and holding the centre of the gathering, but this was difficult for me as I had prepared myself to come with my own purpose, and I wasn’t a part of the planning or the hosting team. It was hard to find a way into the culture of the team, and that combined with being drawn away to tend to my partner Caitlin who was sick and the needs of my kids who were craving good family time meant that I couldn’t be full time devoted to the centre.
These journeys away from the centre however opened my eyes to what was happening around the margins of the gathering. There were all kinds of experiences unfolding and all kinds of desires being met quite apart from what was being formally hosted. So I spent a lot of time with people on the edge of the circle, recognizing of course that they weren’t at all on an edge but rather right at the centre of something different.
What emerged here was what emerges in any village. Many circles of activities happen, each the centre of it’s own little world, each feeling important in it’s own right. No circle was more important than any other, not even the core hosting circle. The circle that was the most important was the one of the land and the building and the local community. It was here that the real hosting was going on.
Slovenia is a magical little country. If you look for it on a map you will sometimes see it and sometimes you can’t see it at all. If you were to travel the coast from Italy to Croatia, you would pass through Slovenia only for a few minutes. It seems to appear when it is needed and recede into the distance when it is not. Of course it was a part of the former Yugoslavia, but I can’t recall ever hearing about it during the Balkan Wars. It seemed to quietly disappear during that time only to emerge later in it’s own right.
Slovenia was the real host for this gathering, and more precisely, the sharply rolling hills and valleys of Terra Parzival, the land of Parcival, the knight who undertook the quest for the Holy Grail. The Grail castle, Castle Borl was the place at which, in a gathering more than 10 years ago, the Art of Hosting community was really born. Borl is currently in a dangerous state of disrepair, but I visited there two days ago and got a sense of the reason why that castle was able to hold such magical energy. it is situated on a high bench over looking a big river and the plains of the territory. The view extends for many miles all around. It is a places that hosts the long coming and going of quests and journeys. THat is one of the qualities of this place.
Stantenberg itself, the castle we have been at this week, os another story. Formerly the summer house of a wealthy Austrian family, it is seeing a rebirth under the heartfelt guidance of Franc and a team of local people who have begun to restore the building so it can be used to host concerts and art shows and gatherings like ours. to improve the accommodations, village families sponsored a room and came to paint and repair and stock them with furniture so that we could stay here during our time. Each room was lovely restored by a person or a family and we hosted by that.
This spirit of giving permeated our gathering. Because the task for getting Statenberg ready was so huge, Franc ran out of time to restore and old chapel in the building that had been the victim of many fires and many decades of neglect. The chapel walls were rotting and falling apart and the floor was covered with 50 cms of dirt and debris. Franc began to clean it by taking 148 wheelbarrows of dirt out, but he had hardly made a dent. On our first day one of our participants had the idea that working together we could clean that chapel in a week. It truly seemed impossible, even with 100 of us helping out.
But Bertram filled the 149th wheelbarrow and many joined him. At some point early on the kids and youth here got it in their minds that this is where they would practice. They had tired easily of the adults precious talk of changing the world and the gathered through the week to lead us all in doing hours and hours of work to get the chapel cleaned. My daughter Aine and her friends carried hundreds of wheelbarrows of dirt and stone out and by yesterday morning, the chapel floor was clean and people were beginning to beautify it. Last night we had a little ceremony to honour the building. We invited the villagers from Makole to join us and we all took little candles and stood in the chapel, bringing a gentle health fire back to the building. A thunderstorm passed outside while local people sang traditional Slovenian songs. We gave thanks to the hands that that did the work and my heart was fully tuned to the reality that these young people had done the work. The whole building had been cleaned and beautified without any struggle at all. Everyone who worked on was tired and joyful. And impossible situation had been transformed and a gift had been revealed which we as a temporary community could give back to the villagers of Makole who had given so much to host us.
Who or what is really doing the hosting?
Those of us that create processes for people to get work done sometimes fall into the trap that we are the hosts – I made this mistake in a bad way in Hawaii. The truth is we are only the catalysts for hosting to happen, for a field of people to move together because of the bigger things that are hosting them. My journey at the edges of our hosting teams work showed me that no matter what we think is at our centre, no matter what intention and expectation we carry, real transformation can never be known. It emerges from the margins. If we don’t take the time to lift our eyes from what we think is important we fail to see the truly significant emerging around us. And when we can exercise the wisdom to bring that back into the centre, then we align ourselves with the true hosts of our world – timing and place.
I will be grateful to this place for a long time for the insight it gave me about the art of commitment. The authentic joining with friends, the full commitment to shared effort and action, and the sensitivity to know that I am merely a small part of what is really going on.
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