Day zero here at the Shambhala Summer Institute here in Halifax. \u00a0 The staff of the ALIA Institute have been working hard to get everything ready for us, and today people started to arrive. \u00a0 Over the past could of days the faculty have been meeting in a little pre-institute retreat, building our own field and grabbing the chance to have conversations with one another. \u00a0 We’ve been getting a little taste of each other’s modules, playing with some of the creative process that is going on and generally catching up with each and getting a sense of our field.<\/p>\n
Today we held a little open space and one of the things we were invited to do was give some thought to what is alive in the field of the Institute this summer. \u00a0 Sensing like this helps us to be able to pay attention to the collective experience and gives voice to what is showing up, and what we can serve. \u00a0 At the conclusion of the Open Space, we checked out and I harvested a little poem that captures something of the flavour or what we’re in. \u00a0 Part of the set up for this poem is knowing that today the weather has been wild with high winds and driving drizzle, and even though the air is warm, there is a sense that the winter\/spring part of the year is keen to leave its legacy on the summer\/fall part.<\/p>\n
Here’s the poem:<\/p>\n
What’s alive in this field<\/strong><\/p>\n We’re going to be at home.<\/p>\n The depth of passion that we own The directions are called, My daughter \u2013 an image held in the hand, What is clear is not-knowing – Can you feel the wind? Settle down. \u00a0 Then step.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Day zero here at the Shambhala Summer Institute here in Halifax. \u00a0 The staff of the ALIA Institute have been working hard to get everything ready for us, and today people started to arrive. \u00a0 Over the past could of days the faculty have been meeting in a little pre-institute retreat, building our own field and grabbing the chance to have conversations with one another. \u00a0 We’ve been getting a little taste of each other’s modules, playing with some of the creative process that is going on and generally catching up with each and getting a sense of our field. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"_wpas_customize_per_network":false},"categories":[29,24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2167","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-art-of-hosting","category-poetry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/piBp1-yX","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2167","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2167"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2167\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2169,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2167\/revisions\/2169"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2167"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2167"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2167"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nexpands out to connect
\nthe alternatives that sing, circumspect,
\nfrom the hill tops,
\nthat reach the ears of the young
\nwho stand in the storm, sung
\nsongs of drenched longing,
\nwanting to tap creative energy
\nto quiver with the joy that
\nlives in the edge of death and life
\nthe light that redraws the breath of summer.<\/p>\n
\nthe integration invites a falling into place
\na space of compassionate embrace
\nof all we are related to.<\/p>\n
\nat arms length, on a touch –
\nthere is much that is held here,
\nmuch that isn’t here.<\/p>\n
\nuncertainty growing like the clouds
\nof drizzle that shower our container<\/p>\n
\nCan you feel the breath?<\/p>\n