Uncomfy Chair

My spiritual community, Olympia Friends Meeting (OFM) has split into three groups over a complex conflict involving social traumas, stigmas, and advocacy. That is a gross oversimplification, and it is the extent I will convey the content of the conflict. Rather, I will focus on an aspect of the conflict that was overshadowed by that content, and offer what I can to ease the suffering of other communities. I want to propose a process on which communities can iterate to both engage a conflict and support the mission of building peace.

As in most conflicts, the content of our conflict took center stage and demanded attention. Many bravely sought to engage the conflict and in doing so overlooked a key difference between people in our community. A Friend said that for some of us meeting is a place of hard work, “a crucible” of sorts, while for others it is a place of solace and renewal from which to engage in the challenges of our lives. We are both a crucible and a place of renewal, and our challenge is to not let either dominate the whole.

I find a metaphor in developmental psychology useful: the dynamic a child experiences between exploration and safety. If a child feels safe, they will explore, and when they become upset, they return to safety -their caregiver- to learn how to be with these big feelings that overwhelm. When safe again, the child returns to exploration better able to cope with their upsets.

We need both safety and exploration, solace and conflict, at different times and different circumstances and it is deeply traumatic when the place/person you go to for safety, reflection, and solace is the source of upset. When the place we go for the safety needed to reflect on the challenging aspects of life, become filled with judgement and outrage we are left bereft. It is too much to ask of a child, and I believe we shouldn’t expect it to be different for adults.

We need to respect that without careful capacity building, these two paths may not be compatible in the same space, and yet stay connected.

Separation

When a conflict has gone past mediation between individuals, and/or individuals insist on bringing a conflict to the whole meeting repeatedly, I propose the following process:

Individuals unable to bring their concerns to the whole meeting without disturbing its regenerative aspect (see below in Reconciliation) are asked to pause worshipping with the whole meeting and to worship with a smaller group for six months. The focus of this smaller worship group will be to understand the concern to the depth that it can be expressed in a way that affirms and bolsters the restorative aspect of the main meeting. Likewise the larger group would focus on how to express their need for restoration and solace in a way that affirms and bolsters the interest of justice and action of the smaller group.

Separation is painful. We can be intentional about both acknowledging the pain and why we are separating.

Those who are inclined toward the crucible path and are familiar with the individual(s) can engage their leading through worshiping in the small group without disrupting the main meeting. I hope that people will vote with their feet. If the small group show shows no sign of progress or growth, they will return to the main meeting as their energy dictates. Does it fuel you?

The separation process is not dissimilar form affinity groups used in Equity & Belonging work. Being in an identity group can allow for venting and vulnerability that would not be possible in a mixed group, without which genuine conversations of how to work across  charged differences, are unlikely to happen in a group setting.

It is important that there be clarity around this process. Uncertainty is a trigger for many of us with trauma who will imagine the worst. How long will we separate before testing the waters together? How will we determine if we can rejoin each other, or need more time apart? What happens if one group dwindles to just one person? When/how do we decide to formally separate? What will our relationship be like if we do formally separate?

Connection

Communication between groups is essential, and there are many ways of organizing and fostering it. I will suggest some possibilities below, however I have a strong recommendation for the following:

1. That there be travelers between groups that regularly report out their experiences in the other group.
2. Travelers should limit their reports to their personal experiences, growth and learnings and are not to be “representatives” in any respect nor report on others behavior/experiance.
3. Travelers should be selected based on their ability share their experiences in a manner that deepens the restorative qualities of worship.
4. There should be at least one from each group and their ministry should be only in one direction. For example, Jim worships three times a month with group A and then once at group B, during which they speak as led of their experience in the group A. When Jim returns to worship with group A Jim will refrain from reporting on his experience while with group B.

Other possibilities to foster connection are reminders and queries. Openers/clerks could refer to our estranged Friends, speak to their own feelings toward them, asking to hold them in light, and to expectantly await ministry toward union.

Tools

While separation may be enough to reduce the heat of a conflict to allow for creativity, new tools will need to be adopted and practiced. I will recommend a set of tools that I believe will help people to seek the truth of others and to speak their own truths while deepening renewal and connection.

Affirmation

Chief among these is affirmation. This is best encapsulated by a quote from my spouse’s time in early childhood care, “Make the child right.” It is paradoxical, that agreeing with a person’s experience is the most effective first step in getting them to broaden their perspective. In the case of childcare, joining the child in their experience joyfully making a mess says, “I see you, and you are important enough for me to join you where you are.” This reassures and reaffirms the relationship, which makes them much more open as you gently guide them to others’ experience and their impact on the whole.

Agreeing with a person’s experience is not the same as agreeing with their decisions or behaviors; it is agreeing that their feelings and viewpoint make sense within their experience. As a very public LGBTQ+ activist Dylan Marron says,

“Empathy is not endorsement.”

The challenge of affirmation is that we are usually too emotionally triggered to do it when it would be most effective. This brings me to the second tool…

The Stoplight System

I first learned of the Stoplight System through my work with SeekHealing.org. The stoplight system helps to normalize emotionality and reduce its stigma. It also helps us to become more reflective of our emotional state and capacity from moment to moment.

• Green: I am present and open. I am curious, calm, creative, compassionate, connected, or confident.
• Yellow: I am distracted, but able to participate. I am not at my best, please ask me if I’m OK with participating or what would support my participation.
• Red: I am emotionally activated, Reactive, irritable or unable to listen. I need to self/co regulate before I can meaningfully participate.

Essentially, the greater our emotional state the less we have access to our higher functions like creativity, curiosity or compassion. Rather than assuming or idealizing that we are all green and can be rational people, let’s recognize that we vary in our capacities from moment to moment. In addition this normalizes emotional distraction and fosters self-compassion. I am seldom green. I can make an effort to center and get there, but it takes a moment. Likewise, when I am red, I know that it’s best to step away and self-regulate or ask for what I need to regulate (co-regulation).

Co-regulation

The new field of Social Health has given us a set of social practices that foster a feeling of authentic connection between people which also tends to move people toward Green. Here are five tools for co-regulation/connection (also learned via SeekHealing):

1. Hold challenging conversations confidential: let others tell their own truth as they wish.
2. Do not attempt to change their experience. Be with them where they are, not where you want them.
3. Seek consent, ask permission for any of the following;
   1. Reflection, repeat back what hear said as accurately without interpretations, and ask “did I get it right?”
   1. Ask a curious question, something you honestly want more information about. Careful not to advise such as “have you tried…?”
   1. Share impact: “when I heard you talk about ‘x’ I felt ‘y’” keep the focus on the speakers experience.

Reflective Practice

Buying a saw will not make you a carpenter. You must practice and reflect on how well you achieved your intent, and what you might do differently next time. If the intention is to express our truth while deepening the sense of connection and well being in a group, then ask after every ministry, “do I feel more connected, calm, curious, etc?” Be authentic and share that as feedback. It’s your truth in the moment, and we can’t learn these skills without reflecting on our intentions and impacts together

These tools I have borrowed from pioneers in Social Health. Here’s a brief list of topics for further learnings:

• SeekHealing: Organization on the forefront of community-based treatment of mental health and substance bonding concerns.
• Dr. David Campt’s White Ally Toolkit
• Non-Violent Communication
• Values Based Leadership
• Empathy is not endorsement Ted Talk by Dylan Marron

Reconciliation

My hope is that this model of separation will give people the safety, motivation, and authentic feedback to develop new ways of expressing their concerns; that communication between the groups will soften an lead toward clarity, and unity incrementally. As members develop skills and model them we all learn new ways of being. Reconciliation does not mean reunification of the groups, but clarity in what we mean to each other and how we will relate in the future.

The first time my sense of equality with non-humans expressed itself in behavior was as an early teen, becoming a vegetarian. It was somewhat abstract though, conceptual. It wouldn’t become visceral until later when I killed my first animal. It was suffering in the road late at night and close to death. That week in an improvisational dance class, I experienced their death firsthand. I stopped driving cars.

As an apprentice, my wildcrafting mentor would ask permission before harvesting. At the time I understood it as a ritual, to slow down and observe the environment. Now I see it as asking permission from an equal, someone who has intrinsic value, beauty, mystery… and right to life as I do.

As a homesteader, I butchered and ate my chicken and goat friends. I recognized their gift and promised I too would give my gift in turn. I did not ask permission.

I spend time in Squaxin Park, holding each and all beings as equals as I am able. It strikes me how many of us there are. It is both overwhelming and comforting.

I have been working for the past year and a half on understanding the parts of me that resist receiving mercy. We have built enough trust now that they can step aside safely. I can receive a sense of mercy from non-human friends now.

I wonder how these two experiences are related, equality and mercy. As I walk and approach Squaxin Forest, I am suddenly overwhelmed with the connection… viscerally, somatically, emotionally. Perhaps I will be able to put words to it someday.

They offered their sadness.

They looked upon me and saw how unprepared I was.

They remarked on their privilege, as they, by following their nature nurtured the land and life, and I by following my nature doomed entire peoples to oblivion.

For my nature is to accept my culture and expect it to flourish, while handed a culture based on alienation from life and extraction of wealth. A skin cell in a tumor riddled body.

As an Advocate for

Quaker Voice

By Jacob Squirrel

What follows are my reflections on my first legislative session as an advocate. I will include at the end a summary of the key points I picked up on the advocacy process. My reflective practice involves a series of queries, and while designed for a more specific instance, I find it still useful for longer engagements.

1. As objectively as possible what happened?
2. What emotions did I notice in myself?
3. What emotions did I notice in others?
4. What mental models were at play on my part?
5. What mental models may have been at play for others?
6. What questions arise from this reflection?
7. What might I do differently next time and why?

As objectively as possible what happened?

During February and March I acted as a legislative advocate for QV, Environmental Stewardship work-group. Traveling by bus and on foot to the capital on average 4 times a week, meeting with Paul Benz twice a week, and meeting every week for the Friday Huddle with the team. I sat in on many of the house Environment and Energy Committee sessions. None of the three primary bills I was working on made it out of Committee, however I continued to advocate for the secondary bills to learn as much as I could during this session.

What emotions did I notice in myself?

1. Unsure: The Legislature is a big, old, and complex system. How much can any one person affect the process, particularly a newcomer like myself.
2. Awkward: Outside the capitol, I was self-aware of the economic class signifiers of my professional attire, particularly on public transport and walking through downtown.
3. Energetic: There were a lot of firsts for me. New places, people, and processes! So much to observe.
4. Grateful: For the support and understanding of Paul, Susan, and all the QV volunteers. I really felt like this was a space where I could learn from my mistakes.
5. Creative: A wonderful opportunity for my organizing and writing skills to be put to good work.
6. Inspired: Observing Paul “work the doors” performing shuttle mediation between legislators and “opposition” lobbyists (more on this later).
7. Belonging: As I got to know other progressive advocates, I began to feel more at home in the process.

What emotions did I notice in others?

Remarkably, I noticed very little dismissiveness amongst legislators. I had expected to see something similar to what I have seen on the national level. While I witnessed some of the same viewpoints expressed on the national stage, WA legislators appear far more civil. (Not quite an emotion but still interesting: I notice very little physical contact between legislators, contrasted with far more amongst advocates.)

What mental models were at play on my part?

Mediation has provided me with a set of mental models I observed the legislative process through. Mutualism and good faith, key factors in mediation, were two approaches that I paid attentions to. Good faith is the willingness to share all pertinent information, and be open to different ways of seeing a situation. I saw them alive and well in the House Human Services, Youth, & Early Learning.

Generally, I assume “good faith” in others.  This is also not true, but it is an image of myself I hold. I have surrounded myself with people I trust. I count myself blessed that my life experiences that I have very few interpersonal instances where I came to doubt good faith. I came to doubt the industry lobbyists’ testimony against the R2R and the Gas ban bill. How much is the profit motive distorting this conversation? There may be another set of models I need to brush off and examine more closely in this respect: negotiation and conflict engagement, which does not necessitate good faith, and includes power analysis and strategic escalation.

My personal philosophy when working with a new human system is to observe and serve. Similar to the environmental principle I practice: protracted and thoughtful observation over transient and thoughtless labor. Observe and serve differs in that humans are more overtly relational; one’s trust and reputation cannot be underestimated. To help where help is asked for. And this was challenging for me in this instance as I am usually used to much greater apparent effectiveness: if I repair a thing it stays fixed, if I help a group with a process, I hear from them how things have improved. I guess that’s part of it. Not seeing improvement, simply speaking for our values. We are Quaker Voice and not Quaker Hands, I suppose.

Lastly, transparency has been on my mind recently, stemming from work of the ad hoc restructuring committee at Olympia Friends Meeting. So, while I was greatly impressed with the amount of legislative material, bill tracking that was available on line, and the open/televised hearings on bills in various committees, I was puzzled at the caucuses. Is it one thing to have a discussion closed to public input, but closed to public observation? Still curious…

What mental models may have been at play for others?

I suspect the pressure to perform as a lobbyist may be different for monied interest’s vs progressive interests.

What questions arise from this reflection?

Can I track campaign contributions and predict legislators’ votes?

Is someone already tracking at the state level?

How might this information be useful or harmful as an advocate?

Why are caucuses closed to the public?

Could the Dispute Resolution Center provide mediation/facilitation services for bill stakeholders?

What might I do differently next time and why?

From my reflections here are a few things I might try during the next session as well as the interim.

1. Track campaign finance, particularly around environmental and consumer protection committee work.
2. Broach the topic of DRC facilitation during negotiations/bill design with legislators/advocates.
3. Inquire about caucus closed doors, with advocates.
4. Reach out to other environmental advocates for coffee, lunch, etc.

Moving into the intersession I will try and organize my leanings from QV’s senior advocate and volunteers.

1. For the primary bills that don’t make it into law, continue working with coalitions/primary sponsors during intersession.
2. Study committee chairs.
3. Start work early on coalitions.
4. Identify Opposition advocates when in good faith.
5. Identify Opposition advocates otherwise.

Continue developing relationships with …

1. Party caucus staff on environmental/consumer protection portfolio.
2. Continue to develop relationships with other advocates such as ZeroWaste WA and Environment WA.

Closing

I would like to close with an event I observed while shadowing Paul at the doors, which I find inspiring. Working pro bono for a client whose child had been traumatized in the public school system, Paul perform shuttle mediation between the bill sponsor and the advocate for the Teacher’s Union who were opposing the bill. I don’t know which bill it was, uncertain if it passed. The bill had a code of ethics outlined for teachers, meant only to be “aspirational” by the sponsor. For the union, anything written into law could be used against teachers in a lawsuit. The sponsor saw the concern and agreed. At least in that moment there was agreement, that I can only assume hadn’t been found because of the immense workload of the sponsors. And here comes Paul, connecting three points in a sea of chaos to find agreement.

I extend welcome and gratitude to all the peoples of this land, to whom I owe every joy and sorrow, every meal and friend, and every wisdom and mirth.

Please be patient with your adolescent servant.

Connection practice is a facilitated group process designed to foster meaningful emotional connection. A place to practice active listening skills, witness vulnerability, compassion, and empathy. Where witnessing kindness unlocks parts of us, so we can sit with our own shame… our own mystery and be held by others. 

As a space owl (a co-facilitator available should a participant need one–on one support) I learned to hold space for a single person: listening tools, compassionate boundary setting, how sharing my own emotional response can calm and reassure folx aren’t alone. In the three years I’ve been practicing connection, the most transformative thing I’ve learned is how powerful simply holding space for someone can be. Gone the feeling of impotence when I couldn’t help someone with advice, or resources, or just “cheering them up”, that frustration of not being able to “help”.  Holding space had such an immediate and clear effect for folx suffering. 

Holding space: to witness another’s experience without judgement, with compassion and curiosity. Holding space requires emotional presence, which I don’t always have access to. So, It requires a certain amount of realism and self-reflection on my own state. 

It’s this nature of holding space, of focusing on one person and the challenge of moving from one-on-one to a group. One assumption baked into Connection Practice is serial focus: the group takes it in turn to focus on one person and hold space for them. Where the challenge occurs is when another participant other than the sharer becomes activated, and our focus becomes blurred. How then to hold space for two-or more? 

One of the things that makes this kind of situation emotionally challenging is it feels like caring for one person is at the expense of another. In addition, we are rarely without our own bias, and may be painfully aware of them. 

Here are a few approaches I have observed, which I feel are in alignment with Seek’s principles. 

• Be overt about our focusing. Reminding the group of our focus on “Billiam”, assuring Billiam of my own care and curiosity for them, ask how the share-back landed for them. 
• Reveal: what’s up for you right now. Concern for individuals, the group, how you look to others… 
• Seek consent: ask Billiam if it’s OK to take a pause to check in on others in the group, and then seeking permission from the whole group.  
• Check in with the whole group. What color are they, what feelings are up for them. 
• Seek consent to switch focus or ask if one-on-one focus would better suit anyone activated. 
• Take lots of breaths. 
• Lead a grounding exercise. 
• Be clear that this kind of focus switching is hard because our caring for one person can feel like it is at the expense of another. So, this will take some breathing and pausing and consent seeking and clarity around where our focus is. And demonstrating that we all are worthy of care. 
• Ruptures happen, they are normal and to be expected. It’s how we mend that counts. 

I’m sure there’s more and better approaches. I also have concerns regarding oppression, air time, and optics. 

I look forward to hearing from folx on this challenging topic. 

A while ago I was introduced to a communications concept of “third”. A third is something two people are communicating about that is outside the relationship between each other. It may affect the relationship, but it is not the relationship. Take politics for example: say an uncle and I are talking politics. Politics are a third. I may feel frustrated and angry with my uncle because of what he’s saying, and those feelings, anger and frustrations are how I’m relating to him. I may also feel love and fear that our relationship is threatened. He will also have feelings toward me. The feelings we have toward each other are the relationship.  

I used to think that when I’m tired it’s hard for me to connect with my spouse. I have found that what is true is that it is difficult to process or discuss things. Thirds. However, I have happily discovered that we can connect if we keep an eye out for thirds. We can sit and be with each other and the feelings that arise even if I am tired. We can find connection and security between us. And the thirds try to get in, somewhat like the monkey mind trying to claim our attention from what feeds us as a couple. 

So, thirds, what are they? An abstraction, model, you usually can’t touch them. You can certainly both touch a couch but may have a different idea of where it should be placed in the living room. Now I suspect that if we are discussing its placement, simultaneously we are emotionally relating to one another. That relating is expressed in tone of voice, body language, and rarely becomes explicit.  

This reminds me of my time in improv theater. Keith Johnstone has an entire chapter dedicated to “status” in his masterful little book Impro. In it he muses that status is something always going on in relationships, and yet we are almost completely unaware of it. Reading about status displays, and hierarchy in primates, he rightly thought humans do the same thing, only it seems we have a willful ignorance of it (at least in “civil” circumstances). 

Like status, relational communication seems to have a great deal of socialized pressure against it. We talk about things, through which we relate. 

I am tempted to ask the question why? Why are we like this?  

While I have some ideas, it doesn’t change where we are. I have some suspicions about my early childhood, but knowing one way or another doesn’t really change how I approach developing healthier interpersonal dynamics. My half of the dynamics is what I’m given to work with, how I got them, especially if they are pre-verbal, I don’t wish to dwell to long over. 

In reflecting on May’s workshop, I find myself much more interested in my experience of the whole weekend than the content. So, facilitators, take all this with a grain of salt. This is more about me than your facilitation. 

The weekend was exhausting, physically. It started on Thursday, with cooking, cleaning, and prepping the spaces at Woodard Lane, and didn’t end until Monday afternoon. I have medical treatments that I do daily and, on the weekends, more so. From Thursday to Monday, I got less than 6 hrs of sleep a night. I won’t sign up for that again. 

I was not able to be fully present. I got information, but I wasn’t fully present. 

Communicating my ability or state of presence is something I have been personally working on for at least 5 years. It started with my spouse who is an external processor, and has been mostly regarding information. Do I understand? If I stop listening, for whatever reason, I’ve learned to use the time out symbol, to give me a break. My spouse gets it-they don’t want to be talking to someone who can’t listen anymore. We can pause, check to see what I’ve heard so far, and figure out what’s up for me. 

What I’ve learned with my time in Connection Practice is that there’s at least two levels of presence: the capacity to take in information from another, and then there’s the capacity to sense my emotional/physical response. In a functional dyad I’ve come to think of it as actually a triad: my conscious self, my subconscious self, and my partner. 

My subconscious is far more in control of my overall actions and thoughts than it feels like. I view my conscious mind as really a surfer on the ocean of the subconscious, weaving a story after the fact; trying to make a sense of my actions so I can explain them to others. It’s part of the protocols for communication. I understand this viscerally from my experience in improv. I can start any physical action, and almost instantly verbally justify what and why I’m doing it. We have amazing justification muscles. 

I am also coming to the conclusion that this idea, that it’s really the subconscious running the majority of the show, is not a common one. 

So far, my subconscious and conscious only seem to communicate with each other through images, sensations and metaphors. One of the things I have been practicing in Connection Practice is paying attention to those sensations, images and metaphors coming from my subconscious while at the same time listening to the information that another person shares. I am good at catching a person’s verbal story and reflecting it back accurately. Now I can frequently also share what part of their story triggered an emotion response in my body. At Connection Practice I get to see others whose gifts of social presence are inspiring, one person in particular has an uncanny ability to bring sensual metaphors to capture a complex social feeling. 

Recently, I have begun using the skills as a dancer and actor to embody emotions through movement and voice. Emotions deeply repressed: isolation, helplessness, abandonment, and the rage that protects me from feeling them. All of which, I suspect, were useless in alleviating pain. It seems I learned at a preverbal stage that no one is coming and to self sooth. I don’t know what I am doing and I don’t know what to expect. I do have a somatically trained therapist to work with, but not in the studio. Nor do they know what to expect, despite their wise guidance. 

It seems weird that my patience might come from a preverbal belief that no one is coming to care for me. 

Perhaps coincidence, but since I started this somatic exploration, I have lost my patience three times. Notable, because I don’t lose my patience. I rarely get angry either. Calm and even keeled. Traits great for community living. Limiting for authentic relationships, and connecting. Honestly, I don’t have a lot of experience in managing impatience or anger. 

Forgive me for all this personal process, it’s necessary for me convey in order to unpack and reflect on the weekend. Which I return to now… 

Sunday morning the query was, “How do we take care that our spiritual growth is not sacrificed to busyness?” I don’t think I could really answer that question two years ago. For me spiritual growth is engaging intentionally in a dialog with my subconscious, emotional, and bodily (somatic) self. That’s one aspect of spiritual growth, another is bringing that dialog live into relationship with another. I’m sure there’s many more aspects to spiritual growth, but that’s what’s alive for me right now. 

I experience my growth in somatic practice, Connection Practice, with my therapist, couple’s councilor, spouse and one friend. So, by Sunday afternoon the workshop had felt like exhausting busyness for me. The juicy, scary, uncomfortable, and glorious experiences I get from relating, were minimal during the weekend. It was in my memory mostly lecture. Good stuff too. But, for me, I have my soul fed on a regular basis; lectures have lost a lot of their appeal. 

Toward the end of the workshop, we were closing with a round: each person briefly talking about their experience of the workshop. I don’t actually remember the precise prompt. One by one we heard participants learnings, until one participant stood up and spoke at length, longer than anyone else. It was hard to hear on zoom, but it sounded more like a lecture than a learning. I lost my patience, and even as one of the organizers of the weekend, I turned zoom off. I took care of myself; showered because I stank, ate because I was hungry, rested a bit because I had a dinner to prepare for and a debriefing as well. And it felt good. Simple. Whole. 

That was the second time I had lost my patients.  

The third was during the debriefing afterward. 

After dinner we sat around the table, and each of us had spoken briefly about our experience of the workshop. I shared my thoughts that the workshop felt like busyness for me. As the discussion continued, the topic turned to the person who had stood to spoke at length at the end. One of our facilitators said that we should probably work with them. And that they need help shifting or changing perspectives. The exact wording, I don’t recall. But what I heard essentially was, “X needs to do this and this”. 

This is heavy, and damn, I’m going to have to explain something else. 

One of the two public agreements in Connection Practice is: No advising, helping, or trying to change anyone in the group. And it isn’t easy at the start. Advising and helping are what I’m supposed to do to be a good person. I’ve slowly learned that I can voice those impulses, “I’m noticing I have a strong impulse to help somehow- or give advice- and I’m going to let those go.” Sometimes the person really knows me, trusts me and will ask for my thoughts. But I’m fine if they don’t, because I’m here as an equal, a fellow seeker-not a helper. Learning to be with, to witness, to be touched, and to find curiosity.  

I’ve taken this philosophy against advising and helping into other parts of my life. When my spouse was experiencing a deep transformative sorrow, I was able to simply be with, undistracted from a desire to alleviate her pain. I wonder now how much of my desire to help comes from my own desire not to experience another’s pain. Without the desire to help, I can find a deeper calmer place to be present from. 

Fellow seeker. To be with fellow seekers, with no answers for each other, just humble curiosity; that feels like the embodiment of “seeking that of god in everyone”. God is a mystery. I have a mystery in me, that I unfold some of over my life. You have a mystery in you, that only you can explore because you are the only expert on you.  

Because I have witnessed how seekers transform when held in  a container structured to be confidential, where listening is verifier, where empathy and curiosity are encouraged, and advice is unwelcome, I have come to almost a worshipful relationship to “seeker fellowship”. As a Quaker, I have pondered what “speaking to that of god” in another means. I believe I have witnessed it in reflection, empathy and curiosity. I have seen how it touches people. 

I return to the debriefing now.  

To hear not just one but several voices chiming in on what “X” needs to realize, change, understand… 

Well, it felt deeply disrespectful of the mystery that is this person. To be so prideful as to say I understand this person’s mystery better than they. And to proscribe. 

I became angry. I said, you wouldn’t talk about this person this way if they were here to hear it. Several voices said, yes they would- and have. 

By this time my body was in control. I pointed at the voices and said … that is a dynamic that you are playing a part in. Again, it’s hard to remember exactly what I said. 

I was dysregulated by this point; meaning no information coming in. 

I’m missing a piece in here, I said something trying to explain myself. 

A facilitator started explain something regarding their statement about X. I couldn’t hear. I asked for what I needed, “would you be willing to reflect back to me what you heard?” 

A very short and incorrect reflection was what I heard as a response, and then immediately back into explanation. 

I said, “no, that’s not what I said.” 

Could you tell me again what you said, they replied. 

I wasn’t getting what I needed. So, I needed to care of myself and said so, and left the meeting. 

And I felt glorious. Like something had broken free in me. The world was clearer. No, the world was just as unfathomable as ever – I was clearer. I was being true to myself, I was caring for myself and my truth, regardless of others- because of my love for others. Paradox (always a good sign for me). For my love of being in intentional relationship with others. For my love of connection. 

Perhaps if I wasn’t so tired, I could have stayed present. Perhaps if connection wasn’t a newfound passion, I wouldn’t have been so passionate.  

Perhaps if others could have read what I needed, asked about it, knew how to provide careful listening, empathy, and curiosity, we could have co-regulated. 

This brings me back to my perennial question to the meeting as a whole, “how do we care for each other when we are dysregulated, when we can no longer hear each other?” I think the first part of getting to some answer is admitting that we all get dysregulated. We all lose the ability to be fully present, at times. I know for me it takes actual intention to be fully present, that it’s not my default in any way. I suspect that I’m not alone in this. To have some compassion for ourselves and other. Not to fix them- but to have those tender conversations about what we need when our presence slips. I’d wager that dysregulation isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. It’s how our subconscious speaks through our bodies. 

P.S.  

It’s been a week since I wrote this. I wanted to give me time to integrate. It comes at a time when I had already planned to step back from responsibilities to our meeting, and I’m afraid some might see my stepping back as a result of the rupture at the debriefing. 

I have processed parts of this in at least four social sessions. I do believe there might be a difference in perspective between myself and several at the debriefing. I would like to explore that difference to understand if it is significant. I am sad that I don’t fully trust our facilitators to establish and hold a relational container. I haven’t seen it done yet. I’ve seen a firm container established, and I had hoped it would only be the first step toward deeper and deeper care, but I’ve seen no evidence of that. 

I’m not sure where to go to explore this difference. I suspect if I don’t bring it up, it will silently disappear. And I wonder about that. I can see how another difference on top of all the historic conflicts and pain might be too much. I can see a deference to my own process. Embarrassment? My own? Others? Will it be an elephant or a gold fish in the room? 

  

An Atheist’s Perspective on 

 “Divine-like” Experiences and

Adult Development  

Part 1 of 3: Connection 

Introduction 

Many years ago, I took a workshop with Dr Letitia Nieto. The workshop was an introduction to the psychology of oppression, which culminated (in my mind) with a section on personal development. Describing the skill sets people develop as they move along a spectrum. The most advance being “access to source”, which she admitted to being a spiritual aspect. In all the diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) work and research I have been involved in, I’ve rarely come across personal development, and even less of spiritual development.  

How do you balance inclusion and trauma​? When you believe there is that of god in all of us. How do you create a community that welcomes the spiritual growth of the cop, and the un-housed, the rapists and survivors, the murderers and the bereft, the capitalist and the oppressed, the blind consumer and the environmentalist, the non-thiest and theist, Muslim and Christian? How? A space where each can travel their own spiritual personal path? That is our challenge as Quakers and that if anything is our faith. And now you can see, this is bigger than faith in some otherworldly being of perpetual benevolence. This is faith that we can, as fallible humans figure it out. So I welcome you all to a difficult place, that wont be comfortable for anyone. But there is love here, there is caring. Being Quaker is hard work, and you’ll need a therapist, counselor, time to reflect, and a clear set of boundaries, that you recognize are yours and don’t force on the whole.