Crash landing on the unknown island

This the second post in the TENDERNESS series

In July I was part of the first Art of Hosting in Armenia. It was aimed at Russian speakers. The callers had a deep wish to create new ground across different groups through participatory practice. They talked about their desire to help the circle "unbubble" -- they meant to want to reach across uncertainty and difference -- with safety.

Our calling question was: When the ground we stood on gives way, how do we find steady footing together -- and take the next step?

It is always a challenge to support a group well who don't all speak your language. Google Translate became our most important team member! Even the calling question has subtle shades of difference in different translations.

I know from personal experience of working in different languages that there is something deeply intimate and quite physical about culture that is embedded in language. This is why colonisers all over the world have suppressed language as one of their first steps.

Language, nuance, movement, intonation. All of these make a dramatic difference to what something means and what someone means by it. When you add to this conditioned responses by a group of people to whatever stimulus it is, you need great curiosity and tenderness as your guides.

Sarah Bareilles' song She Used to be Mine, from the musical Waitress is a beautiful rendition of the contradictions that make up any human being.

Along with language, societal conditioning has a massive impact on how people respond to any invitation, trigger or situation. Being alert enough to notice these, call them to attention and work with whatever arises is the deep practice of a skilled host.

We had people from multiple cultures in the room. We noticed how much easier it was for the Armenians to understand the Art of Hosting foundations because their culture is so based on hospitality as a principle.

One of the hosting team spoke about bumping up against different norms, ways of being and self protective behaviours as "crash landing on an island where no one explained the culture beforehand" (and believe me, they tried -- personal experience is always something else!).

Our team meetings started at 7:40 in the morning and most days we were still at work around 11:00 at night. I often speak of "stamina hosting." Indeed you need a good dose of stamina to be as alert, awake and conscious as possible to host the many levels of engagement going on in a room of people attempting to work together. This time we joked about "fumes hosting." We kept going, but sometimes the gas tank got low.

We hit our edges, we navigated turbulence. We held all the breaking points. We experienced both challenge and beauty.

When I was challenged by others about supporting this particular group of people, I keep reminding myself about my deep inner commitment to supporting more consciousness and capacity in hosting spaces where we can truly meet. Despite our differences and in the face of what others are doing that seems to foster division instead of connection, I hold the hope that we can find our way together.

How can we retain both strength and vulnerability in the face of challenge? How can we cultivate a tenderness towards each other in our stumbling forward together?