The Wayfarers
by Rupert Brooke
Is it the hour? We leave this resting-place
Made fair by one another for a while.
Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace;
The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.
Ah! the long road! and you so far away!
Oh, I’ll remember! but . . . each crawling day
Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile
Dull the dear pain of your remembered face.
. . . Do you think there’s a far border town, somewhere,
The desert’s edge, last of the lands we know,
Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,
In which I’ll find you waiting; and we’ll go
Together, hand in hand again, out there,
Into the waste we know not, into the night?
Photo by zyber
I am pleased to announce the release of a small book I have been working on for the last three years. It is called “The Tao of Holding Space” and it is a collection of interpretations of the 81 short chapters of the Chinese classic Tao te Ching as they apply to my experience of holding space. I started this book three years ago, when I began noting parallels between Lao Tzu’s words and my experience of leadership, facilitation and living in Open Space, something many of us have done. In some ways this book chronicles the essence of my own emergent practice of Open Space. In looking over it one more time, I realized that almost everything I know about Open Space is somehow distilled into these chapters
The book is to be shared, so feel free to pass it along and use it whereever that makes sense
Download: The Tao of Holding Space in English
Download: The Tao of Holding Space in Chinese
cultivate eyes
that enable you to see
through the storms that are right here
to the storms that are coming
in that depth –
great beauty and peace.
photo by damaruc
From Walt Whitman’s Song of the Universal
In this broad earth of ours,
Amid the measureless grossness and the slag,
Enclosed and safe within its central heart,
Nestles the seed perfection.By every life a share or more or less,
None born but it is born, conceal’d or unconceal’d the seed is waiting.…
Lo! keen-eyed towering science,
As from tall peaks the modern overlooking,
Successive absolute fiats issuing.Yet again, lo! the soul, above all science,
For it has history gather’d like husks around the globe,
For it the entire star-myriads roll through the sky.In spiral routes by long detours,
(As a much-tacking ship upon the sea,)
For it the partial to the permanent flowing,
For it the real to the ideal tends.For it the mystic evolution,
Not the right only justified, what we call evil also justified.Forth from their masks, no matter what,
From the huge festering trunk, from craft and guile and tears,
Health to emerge and joy, joy universal.Out of the bulk, the morbid and the shallow,
Out of the bad majority, the varied countless frauds of men and states,
Electric, antiseptic yet, cleaving, suffusing all,
Only the good is universal.
I am feeling the strong work of noticing patterns in everything: the patterns in my work with groups and organizations, in the family, in training and in reading. The patterns and languages that keep us at the rim of our experience but that also lead us to the centre. I have much more to say about this, but for the time being, suffice to note that Whitman articulaes my foundational premise in this: “Only the good is universal.”
[tags]walt whitman[/tags]
What is held
in the curl of new growth
is the lens through which
we see the peripheral light
streaming into the open eyeAnd a tension holds it there
meniscus rapt
membranes meeting and gently resting
in one another’s curves.
…and…