I’m off to Estonia on Saturday to run an Art of Hosting workshop with Toke Moeller and Piret Jeedas. To say I’m excited is an understatement.
First, this is only the second trip to Europe I have made since I left the UK in 1981 after living there for three years. It’s interesting to see how things have changed in Europe over 30 years. On this trip I am intending to connect in London, during a brief stopover at Heathrow, with one of my school buddies from those days, who I last saw when I was just 13 years old.
But the real highlight of the trip will be the time spent in Estonia, a nation that has one of the largest traditional repertoires of folk songs. Only a million people live there but there are tens of thousands of songs that are shared and sung by everyone. So important are these songs that it was through music that a cultural movement was born in the 1980s that led to Estonian independence from the Soviet Union without a single drop of blood being shed. There is a terrific new eponymous movie about The Singing Revolution which we watched last night as a family. The essence of the film was that Estonian culture, language and tradition formed the basis for a slow and patient awakening of cultural sovereignty and pride that led to mass meetings and gatherings, and the singing of traditional songs of affection for the nation. From that current flowed the courage and will to establish political sovereignty that resulted in the self-liberation of Estonia from more that 50 years of occupation by the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany.
To offer a workshop on the Art of Hosting powerful conversations in a nation that has done that seems a trifle hubristic. But the Estonian story is one that lauds the power of vision, courageous commitment and self-government and it provides both a tremendous ground for our work and inspiring lessons for those of us whose nations are still labouring under colonial administrations. With so many First Nations in Canada clinging to language, culture and music, what I am about to learn in Estonia can provide me with some important lessons about how cultural expression, skillful dialogue and courageous participatory leadership can result in profound social and community transformation.
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A long flight necessitated by a late date travel change, had my flying through Chicago yesterday, getting a quick connection and beating my bags to Minneapolis. MPL is the second nicest airport in North America after Vancouver. Lovely layout, good food options and easy to get around. Also friendly United ground crew who got my bag to me with no problems.
I’m staying downtown, reached easily by the LRT from the airport. Downtown cores never give you the pure sense of a place, but I’ll be here a week, moving over to St. Paul tomorrow for a couple of nights in a hotel and then staying with a friend this weekend, during which we’ll play some music and hang out.
Three little gigs on tap here this week, and one meeting. Tomorrow I’m working at a conference presenting some experiences to grantmakers who fund child and family services on what it is like to work in Native communities. Following that a two day mini Art of Hosting for some people associated with Native Americans in Philanthropy, working with my friends Jerry Nagel and David Cournoyer. On the weekend, Jerry and I will do some design work for a state wide leadership initiative he is involved in. I’ll round out the weekend with music with my friend Norah Rendell, a great musician who I have played with for years, and who moved down here to play and teach with her partner Brian Miller.
So good work and good fun in a city new to me.
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Ensconced at the head of an inlet in what has to be the most beautiful valley in BC. My commute yesterday to get here was a one hour flight from Vancouver over huge icefields, 9000 foot peaks, high mountain lakes and deep forested cirques. The landscape here is forbiddingly raw, and when the morning sun catches the blue glint of glacial ice in the cracks and crevacies on the icefall you are flying PAST (not over!) your heart just sings.
In this tight little valley – now rain soaked and cloud choked – a few thousand people live cheek by jowel. At one end, where the long inlet terminates, is the Nuxalk Nation where I am doing a little work, trying to bring some hasitily organized participatory process to a couple of pressing needs in th ecommunity. Today is basically about trying to host a community conversation that sees the good and the possible in a desperate and fractious context. In most First Nations communities, hurt runs deep and the kinds of dynamics that are at play here are deep currents that carry away optimisim, creativity and possibility. And yet, everyone I talk to here wants something different, a different conversation, a different wnay of looking at things. So today and tomorrow, using Cafe and Open Space, we are going to try that.
We haven’t had much time to prepare, and there is much working against making this an ideal situation, so I truly don’t know what will happen. I am just entering today as open as I can be to what’s possible, trying to embody what others are longing for.
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Facts from the longest business trip of my life
- Number of days on the road this trip: 20
- Number of seperate projects worked on: 5
- Total number of people hosted: 835
- Customs officials spoken to: 4
- Number of those officials who wished me a good flight: 1
- Number who welcomed me to their country: 3
- Number who have said “Welcome back to the United States, sir” to me in the past ten years: 0
- Number who did on Sunday: 2
- Aircraft flown on: 12
- Airports landed at: 8
- Number of these I visited on more than one separate occasion: 3
- Number of Kazakh pickerels eaten in Manitoba: 1
- Estimated distance travelled in kilometers by that fish: 8771
- Distance between my plate and the Red River, where pickerel can be found, in meters: 200
- Colleagues I collaborated with: 26
- Gray whales seen: 5
- Porpoises seen: 1
- Minutes it took to fly over the flood waters south of Winnipeg: 10
- Number of times pulled over for running a red light: 1
- Number of tickets received: 0
- Hours I played a talking drum and got paid for it: 2
- Number of passengers who snarked rudely at an Air Canada flight attendant when the captain of the plane was an hour late due to HIS flight being delayed: 7
- Minutes by which the delay was reduced thanks to these interventions: 0
- Approximate number of rock balancing sculptures set up by a group of us on the Pembroke, Ontario riverfront: 30.
- Number of local senior citizens who said they were going to go home and try that: 3
- Age, in years, of Highland Park Orkney whiskey served to me by Allistair Hain: 25
- Minutes it took me to drink it: 30
- Number of juggling balls I left home with: 7
- Number I returned home with: 1
- Indigenous languages heard spoken: 4
- Number of these I understood enough to talk to the Elder about it: 1
- Different guitars played: 3
- People spotted wcearing paper face masks during a three hour wait in San Francisco: 7
- Number of poems I wrote and read out as part of my professional duties: 2
- Number of pieces of olive and sundried tomato pesto stuffed calamari that come served on a roasted cauliflower and fennel salad at RauDZ in Kelowna: 6
- Number of beds slept in: 9
- Percent of annual rainfall that fell in Hoopa, CA during the two days I was there: 4
- Number of elk heads on the walls at Cinnebar Joe’s in Willow Creek, CA: 7
- Number of hockey sticks on the walls: 1
- Number of times my credit card was returned to me by a cab driver who drove 20 minutes out of his way to do so: 1
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Yesterday was a day of travel. Coming off a fabulous Art of Hosting in Pembroke Ontario that was a deep personal exploration of source and the spirit of hosting for many who were there. Thursday evening we gathered at Alastair Haynes’ home in the east end of Ottawa for a curry dinner followed by hours of music and whiskey, all of which wrapped up at 1am. Friday morning my mate Kathy Jourdain and I left ofr the airport, she to fly to Halifax and me to set out on a milk run across the country.
We left Ottawa at 12:35 on a nice CRJ705 (a better plane than the little CRJs that Air Canada also flies) headed for Winnipeg. It was cloudy over most of Northern Ontario, but clear over Lake Superior, the skies opening up over Whitefish Bay. And hour later we were descending over the flood waters of the Red River Valley into Winnipeg where I changed planes to a small CRJ bound for Calgary and Kelowna.
At Calgary, we landed for a station stop and a crew change, but what was to be a half hour pause turned out to be more than an hour when the plane carrying our captain failed to arrive on time. Eventually he was spotted rushing across the tarmac, and we set off on the third leg for Kelowna, out over the magnificent and clear Rocky and Kootenay Mountains. We entered the Okanagan Valley from the north and landed in Kelowna 40 minutes later.
After all that travel the best thing to do was to hook up with Jeremy Hiebert for some animal protein and hops, malt and barley juice. We jawed awhile about his evolving ice book, homeschooling, a little father to father talk about raising curious and lively kids. Funny that we didn’t really talk about music, except to note that we would both meet again in Princeton this summer for the 2nd annual Princeton Traditional Music Festival.
Here only for today, running an Open Space for the annual Assembly of BC Arts Councils and then it’s off early tomorrow morning to California, for the last leg of the epic journey of work and travel.