The Berkana Institute

Berkana Steps into a Bold Experiment in Living Systems

Aerin Dunford — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 19:03:23 +0000

All living organisms and all living systems rest. From the smallest single cell organism to vast aspen groves connected via intricate networks of roots, life must pause, be still, relax, hibernate, lose its leaves. Stillness is a state of being which allows organisms to later thrive. If perennial plants did not shrivel up and lose their leaves in the winter, they couldn’t reserve their vitality to come back in the spring. If we did not go to sleep every night, we would not have the energy to do all that we need to do during the day. There is a Chinese saying: “the circle of wholeness is made up of action and stillness.” We all need to rest from time to time.

But when do we allow our organizations–particularly nonprofits and social change initiatives–to slow down, be quiet, reflect and receive? Lately, it feels like many of us are always acting and moving, making more and more lists, doing and doing and doing, rushing around and then feeling exhausted. Not only does it seem like this organism called the NGO doesn’t know how to take a break, but as nonprofit employees, we are often challenged to find spaciousness and stillness within our daily work. We’re also doing all of this with fewer financial resources, reduced staff and less time. Maybe this is another reason that the organizational structure of most nonprofits no longer supports their work; the NGO organism has never learned how to rest well.

When people ask me what The Berkana Institute is, I often respond by saying that it is an experiment in applying what we learn from living systems to human organizations. I am quite certain that throughout the course of Berkana’s 20-year history there have been some intentional and unintentional quiet periods. But for at least the past seven years we’ve been pretty active: growing, changing and experimenting with communities of practice and self-organizing. Yet we have never consciously entered into a state of rest.

Today, it feels like the time for that experiment has come.

We plan to enter into this period of stillness consciously, with intention. We imagine Berkana, with all of its rich history and learning value, to be like a garden at the beginning of the winter. The last harvest has been reaped and the first frost is on its way. We’ve learned from our gardens that when we bed them down deliberately at the end of the growing season, they return more vibrant and productive than the year before. We prune or cover the plants in a certain way so that they can weather the cold, still season. Our intention now is to bed down Berkana well for a period of rest and retreat. We know that there are certain things that must be tended to in this process.

The board and staff at Berkana have been working to answer the question: what do we need to do now in order to bed down this organization for the winter well? There are three things that we have identified that we want to preserve through this period of quiet. We will preserve our 501(c)3 tax status; maintain a minimal online presence via our website and social media, featuring a repository of articles, newsletters and other resources that our community can still access; and honor the deep relationships with our web of partners and collaborators around the world. While we may not be actively participating in these partnerships during this time, we will communicate clearly that we are still here, simply resting, while the work in the web continues. We will listen into our community periodically to find out whether or not it is time to begin coming out of our hibernation.

These minimal actions are like the root system of our plant. We will regenerate our energy by doing as little as possible during this time. Yet we will still be very much alive in this still state. Simply resting.

This year we celebrate Berkana’s 20th anniversary. Much has changed over time and we have grown, adapted and reshaped ourselves along the way. We live in a very different world than we did in 1992. Since then Berkana has been on the leading edge of conversations about leadership, living systems and learning. We know our current structure and ways of working are no longer what is called for in our world. This phase of stillness is a way of preparing the ground for the organization to return wiser, more grounded, vibrant and alive in the future.

We are not sure yet what form Berkana will take, nor what need it might serve. But during this time we will listen in, clear space for emergence and allow for what wants to come forth next.

In the coming weeks we will share more about what exactly bedding down means for The Berkana Institute and for you, our community. Stay tuned for information via our website, e-newsletter and email messages.

Come On Irene!

Aerin Dunford — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 14:12:29 +0000

“No more prizes for predicting the rain, only prizes for building the arks.” —Don Beck

This quote appeared on the invite for the Vermont Art of Hosting that took place in late August, 2011. Little did we know that a week after the training Vermonters would be putting their ark building skills to the test when the torrential rains of Hurricane Irene tore the state apart. The calling question for our Art of Hosting was: What are the conversations we need to have with each other to build healthy and resilient communities now? We explored meaningful conversation as a catalyst for community building in the region, where belonging, identity and neighborliness are dyed-in-the-wool traditions.

In Vermont, Hurricane Irene demonstrated (as have other recent tragedies) that disasters of this type and scale often create ideal conditions for communities to become stronger and more resilient. Of course, arriving at resilience via catastrophe is by no means the ideal scenario. But as people move through grief and despair, they recognize their own resourcefulness and come to rely upon the strengths and gifts of others. The day after Irene hit the Northeast, I wrote an email asking participants to consider what purpose their hosting might serve now. I shared:

Given all that has now happened… it is more important than ever to remember, truly and deeply, that we are inter-dependent beings. That whatever the problem, no matter how enormous, community is the answer. Maybe we couldn’t put our finger on exactly what ‘community’ meant in our AoH training, but I am damn sure that in the coming days, weeks and months, Vermonters are going to feel exactly what it means.

And this is just what happened in the small community of Pittsfield, one of many Vermont towns devastated by the flooding. My friend and Pittsfield resident, Traci Templeton, lost her home in the storm. Her story, and her community’s story, begin with destruction and loss, but evolve into narratives of possibility, renewal, flexibility and resilience.

For ten years, Traci lived with her daughter, Mimi, on the edge of town in a two-bedroom house tucked between two little rivers. On August 28, 2011 those rivers flooded their banks with such intensity that the force of the riotous waters buckled the asphalt in enormous chunks and twisted off guard rails, ravaging Traci’s home and the homes of eight other families in Pittsfield.

At around 10:15 AM that Sunday, Traci took her framed photographs and a few other important items upstairs. A short while later, friends from the community checked in on her; they were clear that she was going to have to leave her home as soon as possible. She waded to safety through knee-deep water a little before 11:30am. A short while later, the first floor of the house was submerged in ten feet of water. A raging river ran through Traci’s house and spanned the width of Route 100 at its side. For days we heard nothing. All power and phone lines were gone in Pittsfield, and the road was washed out in both directions. On Tuesday, my ever-optimistic friend posted on Facebook: “Safe! Mimi and I have our past and our future, our friends and family. My community rocks!”

I wrote to Traci in October to learn more about her experience of community resilience after Irene. She recommended I watch a slideshow composed by Pittsfield resident and photographer, Barb Wood, about the hurricane and the days that followed. Between photos of upturned trees and houses ripped from their foundations, Barb asks: “What do you do when the town is without power… you know everyone is safe… the food is going to spoil… and there is no road in or out?” The answer: “You throw a town-wide BBQ for everyone and get reacquainted with your neighbors.” And that’s what Pittsfield did.

Play, Connection and Resilience

Erin Maile — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 06:32:05 +0000

“Play is training for the unexpected…”
—Marc Bekoff, Evolutionary Biologist

Kinesthetic Learning

I grew up dyslexic and learned at an early age that if I could build, move, act, dance or in some way experience the learning process in my body, the information would then penetrate my brain. If I engaged in body play, I retained the learning. Today I identify and am identified as as a kinesthetic learner. Of course, we were all kinesthetic learners in our early development and tons of research now supports the connection between brain function and physical movement. Over the past decade, play has become an emergent topic in neuroscience research.

In college, I wanted to further address an underlying feeling of disconnection and separateness through collaborative learning, so I founded an interactive arts festival at my university. As a young adult I was called to teach, or well, actually kind of pushed at times. I had a lot of ideas about how education should and could be more inclusive of fringe learners like myself and how the experience of learning could be more powerful and engaging if active. I also realized I absorbed much more and my own creativity was enhanced when I learned in relationship with others.

Creating Culture

When I moved to New York City I began teaching collaborative story making, improvisational theater, creative movement and yoga in a public school. It was around this time I met my husband Kevin, who ran a circus arts in education program. We were equally passionate about engaging kids’ learning through kinesthetic arts. It was not just the physicality, but also the ability to provide a medium for the fullness of their being to be expressed. We were clear that we were both really teaching life skills more than anything else, and fostering a culture of communication, cooperation and collaboration. The one piece that was missing for us were these kids’ parents. We could see that our programs had great impact on the children’s ability to make powerful connections in themselves and with one another, but if we were to really make a difference, we knew we had to reach whole families.

The Space Between

Kevin and I have been leading multi-generational workshops and residencies for nearly 15 years. We employ and design ways of connecting groups in co-authored play. We draw upon our experiences in circus, theater, dance and yoga, calling what we do CircusYoga. We engage communities through practices that are physical, social and co-authored.

One example is a game we invented early on called Push Sticks. It’s simple and played by two people with two wooden dowels. The partners suspend the dowels between them with a light push of their pointer finger at the end of each dowel. The dowels become a physical conduit for their connection, giving shape to the space between them. We model various communication dynamics for the group, demonstrating active and inattentive listening, leading, following, dominance, passivity, distraction, risk-taking and synergy. We demonstrate how the sticks drop when imbalances arise, creating a call to awareness. With music playing we invite partners to find their unique conversation and to notice their own tendencies. After the initial round we encourage partners to “get into a situation.” At first, a situation might look like being stuck. We clarify that these situations are not problems but opportunities that make the conversation interesting, in which we can explore how to work together at the edge of our comfort. Sticks may drop to the ground, but now it is a call for invention and creativity as partners find new solutions and ways to stay connected at their edge. This practice offers profound reflections in relationship through fun and embodied play.

Taking it Home

A few years back a mom named Andes and her seven year-old daughter Arenal joined us for a weekend retreat and experienced Push Sticks for the first time. I got an email later from Andes describing how while she and Arenal were playing, her daughter exclaimed “Mom! We got into a situation and it didn’t turn into a problem!” This is exactly what we hope for—these activities providing nourishment for family cultures. Andes went on to write, “I want you to know I feel so different as a parent. I seem to have turned a corner under your juggling, soul searching and laughter.” What did we offer? A laboratory in the shape of a circle where everyone is seen and holds an equal place, where we can explore our connections to self, other and community. It is in the safety of this space that we have nothing else to do but connect. This is our sole purpose when we play games, build human pyramids, walk on a tight wire, invent partner yoga and acrobatics, juggle, fly on one another’s feet or create human mandalas. It’s all about exploring the breadth and possibility of our connection.

Communities are the Leaders of the Future

Drew Love — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 19:09:36 +0000

There will be a picture that will be the iconic image of the Occupy and Arab Spring movements and I would like to request that that picture be taken from a distance. The picture should be taken at least from one of the skyscrapers that looks down on Wall Street, catching a bird’s eye view of thousands of people, or maybe from a distant alley away from the busiest parts of the streets of Cairo. If it’s possible to somehow capture everyone in a single image, I’d encourage the photographer to do just that.

I make this request because I’m not interested in seeing the face of just one person added to the historical canon of “great men” who have changed the world. Don’t get me wrong, many of these people did wonderful things for the people they cared about, and they most certainly did help change history. However, they were only able to help make that change because they stood on the shoulders of millions of others who came together around a shared vision.

Yet the common belief is that the cause of social change still rests upon the individual him or herself as the most powerful force in shaping the world. If you watch this crazy shirtless man dancing on a hill and the TED talk by Derek Sivers about how a movement is more about the group than it is about the leader, you might reconsider the importance of the individual. The success of the Occupy movement, the Arab Spring, the civil rights movement, India’s independence and any other movement depends upon the strength of the social bonds that bring people together for change. In other words, it is only through these invisible bonds, and the communities they create, that we can hope to transform our society for the better.

As pointed out in Malcolm Gladwell’s “The Revolution Will not be Tweeted,” social movements, especially those that are engaged in high-risk activity and are aimed at radically restructuring society for the better, are only successful when there exist strong relationships between the people in the movement. So what then is the role for the individual in a framework that emphasizes the community?

Simply put, the role of the individual is to connect. A network for social change can only continue to exist as long as the nodes, the persons, within that network are strongly connected to one another. So to readers out there I ask you to connect, and to connect passionately to the people who matter to you. Shake hands with community members, have them over for dinner, go out with them for coffee and remember their birthdays.

These acts seem small in light of such momentous events as the “I Have a Dream Speech” or Gandhi leading the people to the ocean to make their own salt. But the truth is that many of these smaller moments, where the world seemed to suddenly change, are not single momentous acts of revolution, just as they are not really led by individual revolutionaries. What we are seeing now is a moment in time that took years, and more likely decades or centuries to create.

And so I’ll continue to hope that if one day there is a photo that captures what the Occupy and Arab Spring movements mean, that it will have been taken from a distance. I hope that photo will show a sea of people creating change by creating community first.

Inviting the Quiet Gift

Dick — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 18:23:38 +0000

Recently my wife and I were guests at a high end gala in Chicago. The evening’s high point was listening to the event’s two honorees, both human rights activists, one from Indonesia and the other from Zimbabwe. Their simple words and humility captured everyone in the ballroom. For a brief time there was a community sharing the company of two remarkable people.

Then, the gala “got back to business.” The mood shifted. A designated “ringmaster” challenged us to dig a little deeper so the event could reach a new level of support. Everyone had received a little transmitting wand that allowed us to enter donations and be recognized on two gigantic screens. “Oh look! There’s Jack and Sally Jones.” This was the culmination of the gala–a celebration of the donor.

Reflecting back on the eventing, two questions came to mind: Where does the “quiet” gift fit in this world of ours? As individuals and communities, where does the natural flow of our giving show up?

The two honorees’ work was within cultures of quiet generosity, community, care and shared commitment. They are a part of an ancient and sacred linage where giving is as natural a sunset, an apple, or the casserole delivered to an elderly neighbor. Berkana is experimenting with just this kind of giving culture. Shilpa and Manish Jain’s book, Reclaiming the Gift Culture, is a collection of writing that provides a wonderful variety of examples of quiet giving and introduces the term gupt daan or “undisclosed giving.” In Ladakhis Tibet, cooperation and mutual aid is inherent to their culture. Beverly Bell writes of the guiding principle in Mali which is: “Who you are is very much defined by what you do in relationship with other people. It’s how much you give to others.”

In contrast, there is the noisier way of giving. Our support provides recognition, benefits and status that can range from tax benefits to the gala take-away gift bags. More value and time are dedicated to the wealthier prospect and the larger donation. YES, we must pay the rent and make payroll, but at the same time we are diminishing the place of the “quiet gift”.

So how does the quiet gift (gupt daan or “undisclosed giving” in Sanskrit) seep back into ourselves and our communities? This question is an invitation for your own reflections and responses. I’ll start.

Be mindful of your ongoing capacity to live out gupt daan. I send you an advance thank you.

Teach your children and our youth the idea of gupt daan.

Read and share Shilpa and Manish Jain’s book, Reclaiming the Gift Culture. Much of my writing has been inspired by this gem.

Team up with your boss and colleagues to explore how your community can begin the welcome the gift culture as a value enhancement in the workplace.

For me, I try daily to be attuned and grateful for nature’s ongoing generosity… dancing leaves, sunlight brightening a brick building, breezes through pine trees. I want to try “7 days, 7 gifts”, a giving challenge. The idea around it is simple. In this practice, you are invited to give one gift each day for 7 days to friends or strangers.

If you have any ideas or stories about how to live out gupt daan, I invite you to share them here and welcome a conversation.

Dick Durning partners with individuals, teams, and organizations committed to increasing their own capacity and ease in securing financial support within a space of integrity, engagement, joy, and invitation. He offers practical skills and fundraising “Generous Space” methodologies through coaching, workshops, and hands-on applications. Learn more at Wisdom-Exchange.

Transforming Public Health in Nova Scotia with Participatory Leadership

Michelle — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 16:39:38 +0000

Co-authored by Nicole Druhan-McGinn

We have begun a new journey in Nova Scotia, one that has challenged us to re-imagine, regenerate and reinvigorate our public health system. In December 2008, a group of practitioners and partners in public health from across the province began searching for new ways to bring people together to seek solutions that would benefit the public health system and improve the health of our population.

We recognized that to address the current challenges, we needed to tap into the wisdom of diverse stakeholders, and doing so required a different approach. One that fostered leadership, collective ownership, deep listening, and innovation. Our approach was rooted in participatory leadership, believing that change for the common good called for involvement, collective intelligence and co-creation to discover new solutions and wise actions. We invested in learning new ways of working together using participatory methods including Art of Hosting, Appreciative Inquiry, World Café and Theory U. We chose Theory U to guide our journey as it encouraged fresh ways of being and seeing the world and its opportunities, and uncovering solutions together.

The first steps of the journey began with the challenge of articulating a shared vision for public health in Nova Scotia. Between February 2009 and April 2010 we engaged people within and outside the formal public health system through interviews, “learning journeys” and stakeholder consultations to discover what was working well in communities, to gather information on what was possible for public health, and to understand what communities needed from public health. We spent time with people in organizations doing innovative work and began to better understand how opportunities were created for innovation. We heard some very difficult things, some conflicting things and some things that needed attention relating to how public health was working with and within communities. This served to awaken us and to deepen our commitment to participatory leadership approaches.

Then we took some time to sit with what we learned, internalizing it, considering our roles within the wider system and beginning to brainstorm ways to bring the highest future potential for public health into the present. Through intentionally working with participatory methods with public health workers across the province, we have been able to articulate a purpose statement for public health and, even more exciting, identify four strategic opportunities for innovation where, if we collectively focus our attention, we can really effect positive change. The purpose and strategic directions were validated with our stakeholders at a number of gatherings. The gatherings helped us deepen our collective understanding of the purpose of public health in Nova Scotia. Our Purpose: “Public health works with others to understand the health of our communities and acts together to improve health”.

Our journey is still in motion. We recognize that the ideal, imagined future for public health will be realized over time. Some of what we are doing now may not be done the same way. Some of what we do will remain the same but with an enhanced focus on our stated purpose. And some of what we do in the future will be completely new. What we do know is that how we do everything will be as important as what we do. That is part of why we are now being called to become stewards of participatory leadership approaches within our public health systems and our communities. We are investing in and nourishing ourselves as stewards because we believe that system transformation requires the emergence that can only be accomplished by using “new ways of being” with ourselves, our issues and collectively with our system.

For more information on the transformation of Nova Scotia’s Public Health system, please see “A Journey Towards Renewal” and “Moving Forward: A Commitment to Public Health’s Future.” Read about their entry into Theory U in this feature on Nova Scotia’s Chief Public Health Officer Dr. Robert Strang.

Michelle Murton is a nutritionist and public health practitioner with the Nova Scotia Department of Health and Wellness, and a registered yoga teacher. She says she is privileged to learn from and work with fellow lovers of good, healthy, sustainable food–nationally, provincially and in local communities. She believes food and health are essential, sacred and precious, and offers her experience and passion to ‘real’ conversations and action in these domains.

Nicole Druhan McGinn is a practitioner and steward of the Art of Hosting, and facilitates community and organizational development through the use of participatory research and evaluation methods, appreciative inquiry, World Cafe and open space technology. Living and working in diverse healthcare systems has fueled her deep belief in the power of communities to shape their own health and wellness. Nicole holds a Masters degree in Population Health from Australian National University. She is currently Coordinator of Research and Evaluation with Capital Health, Public Health in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Art of Hosting and Shaping the Future of Dentistry in Canada

Marielle Pariseau — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 16:32:58 +0000

When it comes to my own health, I have simple rules: work out hard three times per week, take an early morning walk in the woods with my dog every day, always look for meaning in my life, live and love as hard as I can, everything else in moderation. These simple rules take care of my physical, mental and spiritual well being. I’ve found that when I’m physically fit, I usually also feel mentally strong. Hard cardiovascular workouts have the ability to bring out brilliant ideas or sensible solutions to difficult problems.

I belong to a very mechanistic profession. I’m a dentist. Reduced to my simplest expression, I drill and fill teeth for a living. Not much meaning there… But because, like pediatricians and obstetricians, I see my patients more often than most other health professionals, I’m uniquely positioned to impact health. So a few years ago, somewhere between a meditative walk in the woods and a hard cardio workout, a wild dream was born: Shaping the Future of Dentistry.

A small group of five dentists and two professional facilitators now work at the nucleus of Shaping the Future of Dentistry on laying the groundwork for a journey to excellence for dentists and their teams in dialogue with one another, towards a higher level of engagement. We aim to help shift our awareness of health and of the nature of our responsibility in sharing oral health knowledge within and beyond our clinics. We convene in new ways that put a leader in every seat, we use well-crafted questions as containers for a collective higher purpose and we engage in conversations with an open mind and heart. The current project emerging out of Shaping the Future of Dentistry, “Dentists Leaders in Health,” is an effort to bring Art of Hosting methodologies into the profession of dentistry. I also have a dream of hosting a large scale participative leadership session using AoH methodologies at OSM, the annual Ontario Dental Association Spring meeting, one of the largest gatherings of Dental professionals in North America.

It all started when I responded to a general invitation for suggestions from the Editor of the Journal of the Canadian Dental Association, John O’Keefe, himself a man with a vision. I sent him a piece I had written for the Debate and Opinion section of the Journal, “Prevention: Dentistry’s Legacy for the Future.” During the same period, I began hosting World Cafe Conversations on Leadership, Oral Health and Education for small groups (20-40 people) in my community. All sessions were three hours in duration except the last, which was a whole day event that began with a World Cafe, continued with Open Space after lunch and concluded with a circle. Combining World Cafe, Open Space and Circle is pretty amazing.

As a result of hosting and participating in meaningful conversations about health, I’ve noticed that my work style in the clinic has shifted from a surgical approach (drill and fill) to one of active prevention and risk management. My conversations with patients have changed. I am no longer afraid of saying that no matter how good my dentistry is, it will never match the engineering marvel that is a natural tooth. This type of upfront, honest talk needs to happen if we are going to effect sustainable changes in health systems.

Dentists Leaders in Health is a project (with a companion blog open to all) that we hope will become an integral part of the Journal of the Canadian Dental Association’s website. The purpose of the video and blog is to ask seldom asked questions and spark conversations that will ultimately lead to a shift in mindset. The goal is to reach a critical conversation mass around ethically weighted questions. Then a large scale participatory change intervention in health led by dentists will become possible.

Whole Person, Whole System

Warren — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 05:22:50 +0000

Originally posted on Organization Unbound.

Many people involved in social purpose work champion the idea that organizations need to become places where we can relate to each other not just as roles but as whole human beings. We believe that when we are free to express dimensions of ourselves that don’t fit neatly into job descriptions, our work becomes more engaging and our relationships more authentic.

I think this is true. But what is less well understood is that treating each other as the patchwork, unruly human beings we are, rather than the zippered office functionaries we pretend to be, is also the only way we can really come to understand, let alone affect, the larger institutional patterns we are trying to change.Why? Suppose we are interested in food security. We decide to create an innovative project that will help transform the causes and effects of institutionalized food systems. Our project will include a food bank, a buying cooperative, training in sustainable urban gardening and food preservation, health workshops, policy review and advocacy work, etc.

So far so good. But if we really think about the institutional patterns that are bound up in all of the issues related to food security, we are just getting started. A complex theme like food security is woven from an almost endless series of institutional threads: economic paradigms, cultural beliefs, law, class, health, race, gender, education, religion, crime, addiction, socio-environmental interactions…

And this complexity would be true of any social issue we decide to address. Institutions are sedimented. They are layered one atop the other with such density and pressure it is almost impossible to analytically unpack them. Systems theorists are right when they say we can only understand complex systems by looking at the whole. But how do we do this?

Hablamos de la Comunalidad

Aerin Dunford — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 18:03:08 +0000

Last night I went to a talk by local anthropologist, Benjamín Maldonado about the origins and history of comunalidad. Given Berkana’s focus on healthy and resilient communities, I thought it would be worth my time to learn a bit more about what people here in Oaxaca mean when they talk about community. Comunalidad is a framework that grew out of the work of a small group of anthropologists here in the South of Mexico at the end of the 70s. This theory explores the essence of indigenous communal life in this region. It speaks primarily about the four pillars of communal life:

Communal authority via the asamblea (assembly) and the cargo system

Communal territory

Communal enjoyment via traditional fiestas (celebrations)

Communal work via the tequio (volunteer duties done on behalf of the community)

At the start of the presentation Dr. Maldonado made it clear that comunalidad is an idea under construction. The way the concept unfolds is via a dialogue between the lived experience in pueblos all over Mesoamerica and a group of people¹ (researchers, anthropologists and historians) that continue developing the theory of comunalidad. The first thing Dr. Maldonado pointed to was the important role this latter group plays in naming or describing life in community here. Though the indigenous communities of this region have been living this way for millenium, comunalidad offered a means of expressing this lifestyle. He said that the ideology “offers written expression to an oral way of living.” “Interesting,” I thought, “naming is one of the four key elements of Berkana’s work.” (Learn more about how we work.) My attention was piqued.

The next thing that struck me was a comparison of indigenous movements in Southern Mexico based on comunalidad, with other social movements like the Cuban Revolution. The distinction was that in Cuba nothing like Communist society existed in the collective memory of the people. The revolution aimed to create a different mode of living, a brand new system and kind of society. Comunalidad describes a way of living that’s been around for centuries. Indigenous movements here are not constructing the new; they are naming, describing and identifying a living, palpable, vibrant way of being that already exists. As Maldonono explained, the work is to “create enough space for the old way to once again flourish.” This reminded me of some of the ways we talk about working intentionally with emergence at Berkana: creating the conditions or opening the space to find out what’s already present and accessible.

All of this really got the neurons firing. I began thinking about Occupy Wall Street since I know that many #Occupy groups are using assembly and consensus as an organizing system, two of the essential elements in indigenous communities in Mesoamerica. The message from the #Occupy movement seems to be: “We’ve had enough of this system, we want something different.” I’m guessing that #Occupy is about building a new system. But what if in this movement, we learned something from systems already in place, still working after thousands of years? Can we find a way to foster some version of comunalidad in our modern, urban, Western reality? Are we just too far removed from this kind of worldview, or is there a way we can make the space and go slow enough to tap into the deepest root of comunalidad: human interdependence.

Rising to the Occasion

Nancy Fritsche Eagan — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 11:47:17 +0000

It was so busy earlier this month here in New York City with many moving parts and lots to pay attention to. I woke up on Friday morning (October 7) to the announcement that the Nobel Peace Prize 2011 was awarded jointly to Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee and Tawakkul Karman “for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women’s rights to full participation in peace-building work”. I was already planning to go to the book launch for Leymah Gbowee’s, Mighty Be our Powers, held at the Inter-Faith Church Center and sponsored by the National Council of Churches.

Tibetan spiritual leader His Holiness the Dalai Lama congratulated the three joint winners of the Nobel Peace Prize in handwritten letters. On October 13, he said: “We have an obligation to promote a new vision of society, one in which war has no place in resolving disputes among states, communities or individuals, non-violence is the pre-eminent value in all human relations. And for this, the role of women is crucially important.”

Along with Rosa Parks, Leymah Gbowee is on my short list of remarkable women we can all learn from. I learned of Leymah’s story through the incredibly powerful film, Pray the Devil Back to Hell. The story is one of simplicity, clarity, fearlessness and community. Leymah received a dream and through that dream, she created an invitation with other women to pray for peace in war-torn Liberia – working through the complexities of bringing together Christians and Muslims to take a stand and send a clear, united message for peace. It was the strategy and insight of using her self as a woman – joining with other women to confront a ruthless dictator with the clarity of focus (“we want peace”) – that made all the difference. She had a strategy for engaging the men, too.

This story challenges me and inspires me as I stand in the question, “What am I being called to do as a woman at this time in the world to create peace and healthy community?” In her remarks upon receiving the Nobel Peace Prize Leymah called on Americans to become better activists and to focus on building healthy communities in their our own city. She encouraged us all to be more courageous, to bring the issues we care most about to the doorstep of those who are participating in creating them. She spoke strongly against the practices of objectifying women and girls in the media. And she acknowledged Occupy Wall Street as building momentum and multiplying across the continent.

Occupy Wall Street NYC has brought together people from all walks of life, across all ages, with many different concerns and and hopes. I’ve attended several of the rallies. During a rally on October 5th, I remember being so mindful of just being in Leymah’s presence. I wondered, “What role might women uniquely play in the discourse of this day?” I was with a colleague Lisa Caswell, who also received a dream to create a Congress of American Women to bring women together around our common ground, to share stories and to create understanding. We thought, “What would happen if we had made signs that read Women for Peace and Healthy Resilient Communities? Would we attract attention? Would others join us? Would men support us? Would we be as fearless as the women of Liberia?”

Lisa just launched her website with these words: The call for such a thing as a National Congress of American Women is rising out of hope, the fearlessness of real crisis, and an understanding of the unique role we play on the world stage. It is time to rise to the occasion. We are all rising to the occasion as activists, as women, as peace builders, as occupiers. Leymah Gbowee notes, “Every time a group of women decide they’re going to protest, the entire government is uneasy.”

Mighty be our powers and our love.

See also Meg Wheatley’s book, Finding Our Way: Leadership for an Uncertain Time and the PBS series, Women, War and Peace. This is the first in a series of blogs by Nancy Fritsche Eagan on the role of women’s leadership in building peace and creating healthy, resilient communities.