So Beyond Paradigms happened.
We invited people, some very very bright people, bringers of change from diverse communities locally and globally, to come together.
We invited them into a new conversation. A conversation within which we would agree to listen to, and receive one another, more deeply.
And then we invited them — and ourselves! — to step into a new context, too. Rumi’s field:
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.
— Jalaluddin Mevlana Rumi, 13th Century
It was a bold undertaking. It was provocative. It was ambitious. Above all, it was risky.
It was a risk that we were brave enough, and willing enough (more than willing, in fact, in these potent times) to take. And to take nearly a year to create, in our “spare” time (ha), navigating our way through countless reversals and mini-dramas to arrive at one spring weekend in Perth, Western Australia — now smashed in between several major world movements and events (notably the School Strikes, the UN Climate Summit in NYC, the Hong Kong protests and Extinction Rebellion). We are living in “interesting times,” indeed.
How did it all turn out?
Well, in a word, it was everything. Everything, with a capital “E.”
Magnificent and moving; amazing and awkward; complex and perplexing. Connections and cross-pollinations were happening everywhere; some fabulous, some challenging, and some just, well, odd. Soaring inspirations and insights were side by side with meltdowns, sudden epiphanies and a few utter sh*tshows. And all of it, all happening, all at the same time.
Kinda like the world, yes?
Long story short, after having shared two and a half days together in this crucible of a conference (which began beautifully, intensified quickly and in its final hour very nearly ran off the rails), we thanked everyone for participating and requested reflections.
We have received many of them — gratefully! — and the feedback has come from every imaginable perspective. We have considered and continue to consider it all, with care. We have taken to heart what we could have done better, and where we can improve. (This was, admittedly, a first effort, by a tiny group of volunteers. With heartfelt aspirations.)
Our gathering was by no means perfect or grand; nor was it intended to be. It was intended to be on a human scale. And it was, very much so. It was intended to offer rich, shared experiences, and it did. It was intended to connect people who would not otherwise have been connected, and it did. It was intended to be a moveable feast, at multiple levels, and it was (if anything, we way overdid that part; our apologies for the density and too-muchness there, both content-wise and food-wise! Yes, more space next time we meet.)
And… it was intended to serve.
Did it?
Well, that appears, ironically enough, to depend entirely on one’s perspective; on the given paradigm or lens, as it were. We’ve received everything from flat-out raves, to wonderfully granular constructive suggestions, to vitriolic criticism and judgment; it’s all over the map (though leaning strongly positive, thankfully). Let’s just say that no one from whom we’ve heard, at least thus far, has been neutral about the experience. Far from it! And we suspect that this is, in all likelihood, ultimately for the good.
So, weeks later, we’re still sitting with all of it. There remains a great deal to digest.
In the meta-picture, how it appears right now is that our invitation to enter Rumi’s field was largely aspirational; and, quite possibly, premature.
That field does exist — there are already some humans who inhabit it much of the time, and gracefully so — however, as far as we can tell, this capacity remains nascent in most of us and requires a great deal more attention and tender loving cultivation.
(Cultivation of what, exactly? Of our awareness; of our listening; of our willingness to entertain other worldviews; of our full and actual presence in this moment; of our ability to self-reflect with honesty; of our courage to be vulnerable with one another; of our sensitivity and compassion. For starters.)
Speaking personally, I am and remain dedicated to these practices. (In myself first, of course; I am decidedly not coming from a place of having answers, or being “there,” but rather of framing ever better questions, and conversations, with respect.)
One thing I’ve observed, both during and following our gathering, is that the tendency toward binariness, opposition and polarisation into which we have all been trained seems to have become so ingrained now that when it does kick in, it nearly instantaneously digs in its heels and refuses to let go of its righteous wrongmaking stance. In particular there’s a subtly rivalrous I-can’t-possibly-work-with-let-alone-even-listen-to-that-person-because-they-think-that-way posture that pops up. And it tends to be a lightning-fast reaction, which may be swept under the rug for decorum’s sake, but it’s still under there, seething.
Surprisingly, this orientation appears to be quite present even in the change-bringing communities of the new economy, new ecology and new humanism, whose members are already well aware of the cultural and behavioural transformations that must emerge if we are to collaborate, adapt, and thrive as a species and a planet. It appears, at least from our recent experience, that we can begin our collaboration exercises well and openly; the challenge seems to come with maintaining them for any extended period of time.
In his beautiful Manifesto, Nahko sings:
To live cohesively is almost a fantasy
And we ought to know it starts with humbling our egos
What is the medicine for cultural wounding?
It’s a profound question.
“Only hurt people hurt people,” observes Thich Nhat Hanh.
The thing is, we may not even be conscious of the hurt we’re carrying, whether of its source or its expression. Or whether it’s personal or cultural. And likewise, we may not be aware that those around us may be reacting rather than responding, again from an other-than-conscious place. They often don’t even know that they’re doing it.
So how can we transform, when our past trauma buttons get pushed and project themselves onto those around us as reactivity, so often without our even being aware of it?
And, given the unconscious trauma dramas unfolding around us worldwide, how do we move forward together in cooperation and collaboration, which is the hallmark of the flexible, adaptive species that survive and thrive?
I have only this to offer, from where I sit following this experience. We are all learning as we go; and perhaps precisely because we are still learning, compassion and gentleness are the order of the day.
To wit: as each one of us learned to stand and walk, we fell down. Our falling was not failure. We simply kept getting up again—hopefully with the smiling encouragement of loving, mature people around us—until standing and walking became easy and natural. No one shamed, blamed or judged us for our falls. Instead, we were held in the bemused anticipation of our eventual success. And we walked.
It is said that where dialogue is more of an art form, debate is more of a sport. We are clearly well-versed in the sport; just not yet in the art. We have a ways to go.
Wrongdoing, rightdoing, wrongmaking, rightmaking… what will it take for us to receive one another, to truly welcome and support one another, in all our glorious difference(s), with kindness? What will it take for us to heal, even our oldest and deepest wounds, and find our way forward together?
All we can do is keep inviting ourselves, keep inviting our friends and families and neighbours, keep inviting our wider communities, into deeper conversations about all of this.
What kind of a society do we choose to create? Who do we, as humans, as a species on this exquisitely beautiful planet, choose to be?
Right now. Especially now.
What if we were to consider this possibility: that the most resilient and enduring bonds between us may be forged not when everything is easy and pleasant and polished, but rather when we go through something challenging or difficult together, and deal with it open-heartedly, however messy or uncomfortable that process may be. That when we do stay the course, we emerge on the other side of the experience stronger than ever. And more strongly connected.
As first nations peoples around the world keep reminding us, we come to know each other by means of our stories, and through the quality and calibre of our relationships; particularly in the ways we share what is true for us and receive what is true for others.
If, in these confronting times, we can find the courage to reveal ourselves to each other honestly and vulnerably, and to receive each other kindly; if we can hold in unconditional positive regard the essential human being who stands before us, no matter how divergent their worldview is from our own; if we can be open to walking even a few steps in another’s shoes, for even a few moments; then our common humanity, and our true potential as a species, may bloom at last.
Or not.
It is up to us. We are still the ones we’ve been waiting for.
The only true voyage is… not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes; to see the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is.
— Marcel Proust
One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of looking at things.
— Henry Miller
(And no, it’s not too late. It’s never too late. Not while our hearts are still beating. Not while we can still open them, should we find them momentarily closed.)
