Day of Reflection
I had the day off from work today to attend the first year M.Divs' Day of Reflection. It was a wonderful day, and I had the time, space and inspiration to do some serious and helpful thinking and praying about my discernment process about the board presidency issue.
There's really too much to write about, but one of the major insights came when reflecting on what I love to do, and what makes me feel most alive. One of the answers to that question is "directing a play," something I haven't had the opportunity to do for a long time, and which I miss.
One of the things I enjoy most about directing is the energy exchange that takes place when I'm rehearsing the actors. Actors (ideally) bring their entire being to the process of rehearsal: mind, emotions, body, creativity, instinct. As a director, I can't be part of the action of the play itself, but as I focus on the actors, and on the text and the overall vision of the production, and give feedback and direction to them, there is a two-way energy exchange that can be quite intense. There is an eroticism to it, a kind of connection that isn't sexual, but has some of the same emotional - even physical - sensations.
I had been thinking about the Board President position in terms of imposing order, of confrontation, and of forcing uncomfortable/avoided issues out into the open - archetypal "Queen of Swords" kind of approaches. Suddenly today I found myself thinking of bringing a director's dynamic to the work instead: of collaboration and energy exchange. It's embarrassing how much I had been thinking of leadership in terms of power-over rather than power-with. And when I thought about bringing the gift of my directing skills (which is a kind of leadership) to the job of board president, it opened up the topic in a whole new way. It certainly made me feel more confident about being able to help bring harmony as well as growth and order. (And let me tell you: keeping a group of energetic actors on-task during a rehearsal can be a huge challenge.)
Later, we did a "Shalem" process, in which three people take turns engaging in timed silent reflection, speaking, reflecting, and responding. It seems contrived at first, but can be quite a powerful process. I ended up in a triad with a man and a woman who had been in my Christian Anthropology class, so we brought that perspective with us. The theme of the day was Gifts, and we were asked to reflect on our gifts in various ways.
I spoke of my gifts of intellectual and communication ability, and my concerns about perhaps not having the pastoral helping skills I think I need to be a good minister, 'just' having the teaching skills. George affirmed my intellectual and communication skills, and recalled an incident in class, in which he - a boisterous, frequent speaker - had made an observation about something, and I had responded to him with a counter-opinion. He commented on my usual quietness, identified himself as "the class superstar" and then said, "You turned around and looked me right in the eye, and took me down." He was obviously still impressed.
I hadn't intended to "take him down," simply disagree with him in a confident but respectful manner. But he felt my challenge demolished his original position. As a criminal lawyer, he may have a more conflict-orientated way of assessing such things.
He went on to say, "I was in the Navy, and the most dangerous weapon we have is the submarine, because it sneaks up on you where you can't see it, and then blasts you out of the water. You're a submarine. You're so quiet, but then you finally speak up, and it's so well thought out, and so appropriate, and so right-on that it blows everyone else out of the water." I appreciated the affirmation of my gifts, but I also appreciated his metaphor. In fact, I took a genuine, somewhat perverse pleasure in being compared to a dangerous weapon, because I am very seldom viewed as being dangerous. (Why I should want to be perceived as "dangerous" is a whole different issue for a different journal entry.)
Kellye said: "You can take these complicated, difficult ideas and communciate them clearly, in a way people can understand. People *want* that in a minister. They *need* that. You just get yourself an associate pastor with the great people skills. You don't have to do everything, or have all the gifts."
Another unusual bit of feedback came when I was involved in a table discussion and in the course of sharing about my spiritual history I mentioned my time in Wicca. Someone asked what that was, so I explained it briefly as "modern, Goddess-worshipping witchcraft." The nice Catholic lady across the table looked startled for a moment, then nodded and said, "You look like a witch." My eyebrows went up, and she made haste to add, "In a good way! You look like a good witch would look. I meant it as a compliment, I hope I didn't offend you!" I'm a very mundane looking person, so this came as a complete surprise, but it also made me feel good.
There were other, more "deep" recognitions and reflections that went on, but those are more subtle and complicated, and don't make good journal entries. I have my free-writing from the day to keep in my paper journal and reflect back on.
But all in all, it was a wonderful day: full of good fellowship, rich quiet time, and some valuable insights.
There's really too much to write about, but one of the major insights came when reflecting on what I love to do, and what makes me feel most alive. One of the answers to that question is "directing a play," something I haven't had the opportunity to do for a long time, and which I miss.
One of the things I enjoy most about directing is the energy exchange that takes place when I'm rehearsing the actors. Actors (ideally) bring their entire being to the process of rehearsal: mind, emotions, body, creativity, instinct. As a director, I can't be part of the action of the play itself, but as I focus on the actors, and on the text and the overall vision of the production, and give feedback and direction to them, there is a two-way energy exchange that can be quite intense. There is an eroticism to it, a kind of connection that isn't sexual, but has some of the same emotional - even physical - sensations.
I had been thinking about the Board President position in terms of imposing order, of confrontation, and of forcing uncomfortable/avoided issues out into the open - archetypal "Queen of Swords" kind of approaches. Suddenly today I found myself thinking of bringing a director's dynamic to the work instead: of collaboration and energy exchange. It's embarrassing how much I had been thinking of leadership in terms of power-over rather than power-with. And when I thought about bringing the gift of my directing skills (which is a kind of leadership) to the job of board president, it opened up the topic in a whole new way. It certainly made me feel more confident about being able to help bring harmony as well as growth and order. (And let me tell you: keeping a group of energetic actors on-task during a rehearsal can be a huge challenge.)
Later, we did a "Shalem" process, in which three people take turns engaging in timed silent reflection, speaking, reflecting, and responding. It seems contrived at first, but can be quite a powerful process. I ended up in a triad with a man and a woman who had been in my Christian Anthropology class, so we brought that perspective with us. The theme of the day was Gifts, and we were asked to reflect on our gifts in various ways.
I spoke of my gifts of intellectual and communication ability, and my concerns about perhaps not having the pastoral helping skills I think I need to be a good minister, 'just' having the teaching skills. George affirmed my intellectual and communication skills, and recalled an incident in class, in which he - a boisterous, frequent speaker - had made an observation about something, and I had responded to him with a counter-opinion. He commented on my usual quietness, identified himself as "the class superstar" and then said, "You turned around and looked me right in the eye, and took me down." He was obviously still impressed.
I hadn't intended to "take him down," simply disagree with him in a confident but respectful manner. But he felt my challenge demolished his original position. As a criminal lawyer, he may have a more conflict-orientated way of assessing such things.
He went on to say, "I was in the Navy, and the most dangerous weapon we have is the submarine, because it sneaks up on you where you can't see it, and then blasts you out of the water. You're a submarine. You're so quiet, but then you finally speak up, and it's so well thought out, and so appropriate, and so right-on that it blows everyone else out of the water." I appreciated the affirmation of my gifts, but I also appreciated his metaphor. In fact, I took a genuine, somewhat perverse pleasure in being compared to a dangerous weapon, because I am very seldom viewed as being dangerous. (Why I should want to be perceived as "dangerous" is a whole different issue for a different journal entry.)
Kellye said: "You can take these complicated, difficult ideas and communciate them clearly, in a way people can understand. People *want* that in a minister. They *need* that. You just get yourself an associate pastor with the great people skills. You don't have to do everything, or have all the gifts."
Another unusual bit of feedback came when I was involved in a table discussion and in the course of sharing about my spiritual history I mentioned my time in Wicca. Someone asked what that was, so I explained it briefly as "modern, Goddess-worshipping witchcraft." The nice Catholic lady across the table looked startled for a moment, then nodded and said, "You look like a witch." My eyebrows went up, and she made haste to add, "In a good way! You look like a good witch would look. I meant it as a compliment, I hope I didn't offend you!" I'm a very mundane looking person, so this came as a complete surprise, but it also made me feel good.
There were other, more "deep" recognitions and reflections that went on, but those are more subtle and complicated, and don't make good journal entries. I have my free-writing from the day to keep in my paper journal and reflect back on.
But all in all, it was a wonderful day: full of good fellowship, rich quiet time, and some valuable insights.