Back when I began this blog I called it “Parking Lot” which is a term in the facilitation world used for the list of things that we need to talk about at some point but just can’t get to right now. Now that I’m returning to the blog world I thought I would make a regular list of the things that have been accumulating in my own parking lot. So each time that list reaches ten, I’ll share them here.
Here’s the first bunch.
- My buddy Tenneson Woolf shares a stab at Slice of LIfe writing, which is intriguing.
- A surprisingly gripping scene from Mad Max 3 called The Tell of Captain Walker, in which an oral history in a post-apocalyptic world is recited. (h/t to What’s The Pont who shared it as an example of oral history dynamics.)
- Patricia Shaw shares a short and very clear talk on the characteristics of a good leader from a dialogic perspective. Again, surprisingly gripping and helpfully simple.
- Matt Webb with a lovely meditation on online identity.
- My foodie neighbours Rob and Laurel went to India about ten years ago to spend six months documenting their learning about Indian food and they kept a great travel blog which has many many excellent recipes. Long before there were great food blogs, there was this great blog about food.
- Interesting paper published in Nature which studies how virtual engagement affects brainstorming and idea generation. There is much that is good about moving online but it does seem to come at a cost. And now that cost is being researched. (h/t the MeetingsNet blog).
- In a short twitter thread, Professor Emily Bell traces some of the jurisprudence behind the Supreme Court of the United States draft decision overturning abortion rights, and finds it rooted in the opinions of Matthew Hale, a 17th century English jurist who executed women for witchcraft and whose decision have been used to justify marital rape. Just in case you thought the pending decision wasn’t medieval enough on its own.
- Thomas Piketty reimagines socialism as a participatory and intersectional recalibration of power: Long LIve Participatory Socialism! (h/t Allison Creekside on twitter).
- Manali Shah shares a short but moving piece on the activation of our sense as we return to in-person meetings.
- My friend Sonja Blignaut discusses thresholds in writing and in a lovely podcast interview. It’s lovely to hear her voice flowing and expanding into the ideas and practice that have long been adjacent to the organizational complexity work that she has been doing for so long. Poetry, reflection and life, all coming together.
My favourite places to walk are along coastal paths, preferably along cliff tops or wild shorelines. On my home island we have very few places where one can take an extended stroll along such a place as most of the shoreline is privatized and even though in Casnada all shore up to the high water mark is public right of way, much of the Nex?wlélex?wm/Bowen Island coast line is steep and rocky and access to the intertidal zone is restricted.
But there is a glorious walk along the shoreline at Cape Roger Curtis and it is my favourite place on the island. For about a kilometer and a half, the trail winds along the shoreline, part of it even crossing a cantilevered boardwalk, pinned into a sliff side maybe 20 meters about the rocky shore below. From that trail, it is common to see marine mammals such as seals and sea lions, and I have spotted harbour porpoises, killer whales and even a humpback whale from the trail.
in living systems the most important and interesting zones are the ecotones, the place where two ecosystems meet. This tends to be where the most life is. Where the forest meets the sea is a rich area of nutrition and growth. And Cape Roger Curtis is doubly special and edgy becasue it is the point where Atl’ka7tsem/Howe Sound meets the Strait of Georgia which makes up the half of the main body of water that is the Salish Sea. It is here that currents swirl and meet, with the salty ocean water meeting the fresher water that flows from the glacier and streams that rise above our inlet. The coastla trail winds down the west side of the island, around the Cape and along the south shore, which in the Squamish language is called Ni7cháy?ch Nex?wlélex?wm, a name which captures the edges of the forest and the sea, which is also the edge of Squamish territory. From here on out is the big wide world.
Today that churning seas with its 4 meter tides is nurturing schools of anchovy and herring which have draw sea lions back for their annual feed. They have been hauling out in large number on one of the unused docks at the Cape over the past several years. At times there are as many as thirty around – especially when the Biggs Killer Whales are out hunting them – but today there where only four or five. Offshore there was a large raft of surf scoters, number 5-600, and gulls and cormorants were similarly hunting and diving into schools of these rich feed fish. In the nearby forest townsend warblers and song sparrows were calling, while in the skies above a battle was raging between a pair of ravens and an eagle. It appeared as if the eagle’s appetite had disrupted the ravens’ family plans and they were angry.
Much of my spiritual practice comes through a tradition of monastic and contemplative practice that was formed in places like this, on the edges of continents, on the edges of territories, on the ecotones between the known world and the mysterious beyond. It is a place where the heart is awakened and the senses sharpened, and the power of the natural world is so strong that it overwhelms the temporary intrusion of a human.
For Mother’s Day, have a read of Crawford Killian’s new piece in The Tyee about fungi and forests as he charts his learning about mushrooms, trees, and fungal networks through disbelief to reverent awe.
Our common mother is so much more than we can ever understand.
Read: Why fungi are more sophisticated than we can imagine thetyee.ca/Culture/2022/05/06/What-Do-You-Say-To-Thinking-Forest/
We are going to be living with this virus for the rest of our lives I think. So for a person like me who works with people in groups and has traditionally travelled globally to deliver workshops, I have to start thinking about considerations related to the health on me and my colleagues and team members and the adherence of public health measures around the world. We know we can do good work online, so that is always an option. But for work in which clients expect me to travel and become exposed to COVID 19, I am considering using language like this in all our contracts:
All work planned with your organization needs to be flexible in delivery taking into account public health measures, and consultant health. For in-person events where travel is involved and quarantine required, your organization is responsible for all costs relating to national public health regulations. Our team members will always adhere to all national, local and commercial COVID-19 safety protocols and will meet or exceed expected standards of protection while travelling for this work. Should our team members contract COVID-19 in the course of their duties, your organization is responsible for costs relating to quarantine and travel plan changes and any health expenses falling outside of our corporate travel insurance. We will develop at least two options for any work to be delivered in person that includes a back-up online contingency plan and a cancellation plan.
I want to be able to do work with people, but I don’t want to put our team members at undue risk or under undue hardship, nor do I want to be creating in-person events that are unsafe or inaccessible. The language above seems fair and relational, given that we are a small company. What do you think? This is a tender new world and despite vaccination which lowers the risk of death, COVID 19 is a very dangerous virus that spreads rapidly and can create long term health risks that may impact my ability or my colleague’s ability to do their work.
I welcome your thoughts. How are you negotiating potential costs and client needs related to COVID in a world that is desperation to pretend that we are back in November 2019?
There are two musical offerings on Bowen Island tonight. At 7pm, The Ladies Madrigal Singers (“The Mads”) will be singing a program of choral arrangements of Irish songs and other pieces for spring including Deer Song, from the oratorio “Considering Matthew Shepard.” I’ll be joining the choir on Irish flute tonight, the first time I have played feadóg mhór with an ensemble in performance for literally years. The event is at Cates Hill Chapel, and tickets are $15 at the door.
The Mads are a Bowen Institution, a women’s ensemble that is the beloved project of my friend Lynn Williams who has led the group since she arrived on Bowen 20 or so years ago.
Also tonight from 6-9, the Bowen Island Pub features its monthly jazz night, with guitarists John Stiver and Steve Fisk, Steve Smith on bass and Canadian jazz legend Buff Allen on drums. Expect a set of standards and blues rendered by unbelievable talents. As an aspiring jazz guitarist I simply dream of being able to play at this level of mastery. I’ll probably sneak in after the Mads concert to catch their last set.
These kinds of evenings are really important in a little community like ours. These musicians are community members, friends, neighbours, people who might do some work for you or who you meet out and about. On an island like ours, where the last ferry comes home from the city at 10pm, if you want entertainment, you make it yourself. We are blessed to have incredible musicians here (we have three Juno winners living here who regularly perform). And we are blessed that they lend their talents to creating moments of togetherness that are essential in a world that relates increasingly through bytes, bits and outrage.