Itineraries Summer 2007

Contents:

“Gathering to a Greatness:” Elders Transforming the World by Bolton Anthony

A Woman Who Saw Hunger and Tried to End It by Sara Pines

My Story, Our Story: A Journey of Healing by Rich Henry

Spiritual Activism and Liberation Spirituality by Horwitz and Vega-Frey

Becoming a Force for Change by Barbara Kammerlohr

News and Notices

“Gathering to a Greatness:” Elders Transforming the World by Bolton Anthony

I said to the almond tree,
“Speak to me of God.”
And the almond tree blossomed.

— Nikos Kazantzakis

“Since time immemorial,” writes Eckhart Tolle in his book, A New Earth, “flowers, crystals…and birds have held special significance for the human spirit.” They point to the possibility of radical transformation. For each realm — vegetable, mineral and animal — their emergence represents an interruption in predictable evolution: “a leap to an entirely different level of Being and, most important, a lessening of materiality.”

Expanding the meaning of the word “enlightenment,” Tolle suggests we might look on flowers— “on that explosion of color and scent” after millions of years during which only green vegetation covered the planet — as the enlightenment of plants. Similarly, rock might be said to experience a similar enlightenment when its dense impenetrable mass undergoes a molecular change, “turns into crystals and becomes transparent to the light.” Though most reptiles have remained unchanged for millions of years, some grew feathers and wings and turned into birds, “They didn’t become better at crawling or walking, but transcended crawling and walking entirely.”

The question for Tolle is whether humanity is “ready for a transformation of consciousness, an inner flowering so radical and profound that compared to it the flowering of plants, no matter how beautiful, is only a pale reflection?”

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We know that enlightenment is a human possibility; the potential of such transformation is a central teaching of all the great wisdom traditions. We think of such enlightenment as rare… AND as a possibility for individuals. Tolle sees it as a possibility for the human species: in the poetic language of Gerard Manley Hopkins, the aggregate of consciousness in the world gathering to such a greatness that it flames out like shining from shook foil.

In seeing humankind as poised on the brink of a momentous transformation, Tolle joins his voice with those of past visionaries — notably, 20th century French theologian/anthropologist Teilhard de Chardin who posited an “Omega Point” toward which all evolution is converging — and current writers, like David Korten and Paul Hawken.

Korten, in The Great Turning, finds “cause for hope” in a “global cultural and spiritual awakening [that is] birthing of a new era of Earth Community based on a radically democratic partnership model of organizing human relationships.” One specific source of Korten’s optimism is the

growth in the percentage of elders in the population [that results in] a rise in the percentage of the population that has achieved the maturity of a Cultural or Spiritual Consciousness. There is [also] growing interest in the potential benefits of elders making their experience and wisdom available for the larger society through their continued active engagement, particularly as teachers and mentors (p. 322).

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Over a decade ago, another visionary, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, found similar cause for hope. In his seminal book, From Age-ing to Sage-ing, he wrote

“The modern world is going through an unprecedented shift…that will reweave humanity into the fabric of nature as its consciousness and guardian. This ecological sensibility inspires us to make political and consumer decisions with seven generations in mind. As elders make their inner riches available to the world, they can help midwife this process and safeguard the survival of the planet. Moreover, during this time of accelerated cultural transformation, elder wisdom can help heal intergenerational strife within the family and regenerate our social and political institutions. As the spokespersons for [Earth] and her many peoples, elders can [champion] a world of sane consumption, social justice, and spiritual renewal [as they] serve as leaders in giving birth to a more humane planetary civilization” (p. 238).

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The articles in this Summer Issue of Itineraries explore the call to elders to work in the world as agents of social and cultural transformation. Sara Pines inspires us with her story of the Friendship Donation Network. Rich Henry, in recounting his personal encounter with cancer, teases out the transpersonal commitments his experience evoked. Claudia Horwitz and Jesse Maceo Vega-Frey Jesse Maceo Vega-Frey explore how organizations can deepen competencies and develop tools for effective “spiritual activism.” And, finally, Barbara Kammerlohr, Second Journey Book Page editor, provides a thoughtful review of the books by David Korten and Paul Hawken mentioned above.

A Woman Who Saw Hunger and Tried to End It by Sara Pines

The author is the founder of the Friendship Donation Network, a food rescue program, which — in its 19th year of operation in Ithaca, NY — distributes $1.5 to $2 million worth of food each year at an annual cost of less than $5,000. Pines lives at the EcoVillage of Ithaca where she and her husband Aaron were founding members.

My Story

I was born in Palestine in 1936. My father was killed when I was four years old. He was gardening — a safe activity you’d suppose. Well, not during wars: a bomb was dropped on our neighborhood as part of the Second World War. Thereafter, I lived a life of hunger and poverty until I married at age 22. Luckily, I was resourceful and, overcoming a learning disability, was able to attend college, earn a BA and then a masters in social work. A few years later, I attended Cornell University, completing a Ph.D. in Human Service Studies. In time, my husband Aaron and I created two lovely people — a daughter and son.

During the years with my mother, we lived in small apartments in poor residential neighborhoods. I felt lonely and isolated in my small two-person family! Once married, my husband and I lived for the most part in those lovely, little “self-contained units” that populate suburban, middle class neighborhoods. We knew and related to few of our neighbors. Friends lived far away, and planning was required to see each other. The children socialized through play dates. One would not call this arrangement easy-going or natural!

During holidays I wished I had a community with which to share these special times. As Chanukah or Christmas approached — or Passover or Easter, or New Year’s Eve — I’d worry that we’d be by ourselves and not with a group of our friends. We were distant with our relatives.

I knew from my academic studies in human interaction, sociology and anthropology that human beings are meant to live in tribes. We’d lived that way until the industrial revolution. Despite my repeated efforts to find a suitable community for our family, I was unsuccessful until 1991. That’s when my friend, Joan Bokaer, returned from a march across America — her “March for a Livable World” — burning with a vision to create a demonstration model community. Her dream was that they could live a comfortable life, care for each other and our Mother Earth while building homes and conserving land, living in, creating, and modeling a sustainable life style for others to emulate.

The effort to realize Joan’s vision is recounted, in part, in the book EcoVillage at Ithaca: Pioneering a Sustainable Culture by EVI’s co-founder, Liz Walker. Our planning stretched over five years before construction began on the cluster of 30 homes and a common house that comprised our first cohousing neighborhood. A second cohousing neighborhood has followed, and a third is in the planning. The three neighborhoods when completed will use only 12 acres of the 176-acre site. A 13 acre organic farm was part of the original plan; in 2005, another 5 acres was dedicated to an organic berry farm. The balance of the land is includes ponds, meadows and woods which will be left mostly to nature. An education center is in the planning to house the active nonprofit which currently operates out of the common house. Housing for interns is also being considered.

The years following our move to EcoVillage have been dynamic and exciting. We live in a beautiful small home with passive solar design. Three meals per week are served in the common house for those who opt to participate. All holidays are celebrated in the common house. Special events like birthdays, parties and other celebrations are shared with neighbors and friends. I have found here the sense of community I so missed before I moved and wish my children had the luck to live here. However, as I get older, now 71 years old, I find that there are fewer people to interact with at Ecovillage. Thus, elder co-housing looks increasingly more attractive.

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Friendship Donations Network

FDN is a food rescue program that came into being in response to my visit, 19 years ago, to a migrant labor camp where I encountered sub-standard living conditions and rampant hunger. In contrast, over the years, I observed the waste of thousands of pounds of all kinds of good, nutritious food: the daily discards of farms, schools, university dining halls, restaurants, supermarkets, bakeries and food wholesalers. I decided to do something about the problem.

Initially, I worked through an existing organization, the Migrant Advocacy Center, which would send a car or van, as needed, to pickup the surplus food I located. One supermarket responded to my “begging” with a once-a-week pickup. In 1991, a large supermarket chain in Ithaca, Wegman’s, agreed to help us daily, and I set about recruiting volunteers to help with the pick up, sorting and distribution of donations. The delivery of food to the labor camps remained the biggest and most frustrating piece of the puzzle. The Migrant Advocacy Center often found themselves short of money for gas, vehicles or volunteers, making that part of the outreach a “touch-and-go” affair until the agency folded.

The food, however, kept coming daily. Because it was fresh — and perishable — it had to be distributed within hours. I started a massive campaign to recruit reliable churches to host food pantries. I also looked for social service agencies that needed food for their programs; but here the match was often poor, as few agencies could use the 750 to 1000 pounds of food now being donated daily. A major publicity push helped inform members of the community about our work and mission, garner donations to cover costs for gas and packaging supplies, and recruit volunteers and food pantries sponsors. Our local newspapers covered our efforts and helped spread the word. Amazingly, it worked!

What started out taking 40 to 50 hours per week was soon overwhelming. Honestly, it was much more work and effort than I ever envisioned! But how could I quit now that I was succeeding and 6 supermarkets and bakeries daily were donating food and increasing numbers of people, churches and agencies were involved? Volunteers came and left, new ones were recruited. Churches opened pantries and closed them for many reasons and new ones were recruited. Our schedule was full as we had to pick up rescued food when the stores were open — seven days a week, 365 days per year. Closed Christmas!

Currently, FDN rescues 1500 to 2500 pounds of mostly fresh food daily — approximately 15,000 pounds per week and 750,000 pounds per years. The estimated value of the food — all of which is donated: FND has never paid one cent for any food — is in excess of $4,000 per day, $30,000 per week, or $1.5 to $2 million per year. Eleven supermarkets, bakeries and others donate daily; food wholesalers donate when food is available; local farms donate in season; Cornell Apple Orchards, farms and dairy stores donate regularly. Area farms donate when they have excess. Without FDN almost all this good, nutritious food would have ended up in landfills.

About 2500 to 3000 persons are helped weekly through the Friendship Donations Network. Twenty-eight hunger programs receive food on a regular basis. FDN provides food to a soup kitchen that feeds almost 800 persons weekly, to a Mission that provides food to hundreds in an impoverished rural county nearby, and to 11 food pantries in Ithaca and surrounding counties. Food deliveries also go to low-wage worksites; “shut ins,” youth programs; social agencies. and rural poor with no access to a food pantry.

To give you an idea of how the day-to-day operation plays out, let me describe a typical day, say Tuesday, which is hosted by the Immaculate Conception Church Pantry. Their coordinator and her volunteers set up the tables in the church basement to receive the food. Snacks are available for volunteers in the church kitchen. The pick-up runs begin at 9 AM: three volunteers arriving at our largest donor, Wegman’s, where 500 to 1000 pounds of food that is waiting on the loading dock; another volunteer travels to Ithaca Bakery for a 4x4x4 bin full of bakery items that have been waiting since the night before. Three other volunteers make the circuit of 8 other supermarkets and wholesalers. all donations are delivered to the church; volunteers wait to help the drivers unload, sort, package and set up the distribution. The public begins waiting in line 2 hours before the pantry opens at 1 PM. Folks sign in, and go through a 120 foot, U-shaped line of tables filled with food. Volunteers at each table guide and inform those in line about how much food they can take from each table. At 2pm, clean-up, recycling and reusing starts.

Finally, a word about FDN’s finances. We distribute $1.5 to $2 million worth of food each year. Our expenses — which cover transportation reimbursement, packaging supplies, cell phones and prepaid cards for essential volunteers — total about $4,400 per year. Not bad! Reason? No one is paid! Our 200-plus workers from participating churches and pantries are all volunteers. We have no overhead fixed costs! The operation is run out of my home, using our telephones, computers, printers, supplies and equipment. We own no vehicles! Every volunteer uses his/her own vehicle. We pay for no storage space (three storage sheds are donated by members of the community) and for no refrigeration (freezer space is donated by Purity Ice Cream Company and coolers, by a local farmer and the Ecovillage common house). Small grants from local funding sources and private donations triggered by local publicity usually cover the small cash requirements of the operation.

FDN efforts to alleviate food insecurity and hunger and to demonstrate how to do it have garnered national recognition. This past March, Sara Pines received the annual Laura Holmberg Award. from the Community Foundation of Tompkins County, which honors “women who, while excelling in their professions, have also had a significant impact on the community through their volunteer activities.” This past May, FDN and Sara Pines were given an e‑chievement award by Etown conferred in a national broadcast.

My Story, Our Story: A Journey of Healing by Rich Henry

Rich Henry was the co-founder, along with Victor Bremson, of For The GrandChildren, a global network of all people committed to unleashing the power and joy of generational responsibility. He was devoted to bringing forth “an environmentally sustainable, spiritually fulfilling, socially just human presence on Earth for all generations”. He died on September 10, 2012, following an eight-year battle with brain cancer.

I have a story to tell you. It’s my story, and it’s also much larger, demonstrating that what is most personal is most universal. You could even say that this is our story, and by “our” I mean a very large “our,” one that encompasses you and me, all humans, in fact all life on Earth. But let’s start with my story.

My Story

In July 2006, while attending a conference in Chicago, I noticed the slightest change in my perception. It was as if, just the tiniest bit, I was partially in the dream world. I’ve always been very good with cardinal directions, have always known where North was and could orient myself to my surroundings. But in Chicago, for the first time, this was not effortless. It wasn’t a big thing, barely enough to get my attention. But it did get my attention. And then I dismissed it: it was the heat, or my first time in Chicago, or something I ate.

But this subtle shift persisted after I returned home. Not one to visit the doctor without a damn clear need, I don’t know why I listened to the small, inner voice, but I did. I made an appointment with the doctor.

My doctor looked me over thoroughly, did some simple tests, and said, “There’s nothing wrong with you. But let’s be thorough. Let’s do an MRI.”

Because I expected only clear results from my first-ever MRI, I found the experience the following Monday a thoroughly intriguing one. I am still in awe of what human ingenuity has created, this magnificent tool that makes the invisible visible. Liquid helium at only 4 degrees above absolute zero (-452°F), superconducting current with ZERO resistance — science fiction made manifest, in fact, mundane.

My subtle symptoms had, in the meanwhile, completely disappeared. I felt perfectly myself, so much so that I called my doctor on Tuesday afternoon to cancel the follow-up appointment: “There’s no reason for me to come in, is there?”

“No, I want to see you. There’s a reason to come in,” he said. “And bring your wife.”

After an understandably difficult night, Ruth Ann and I arrived for the appointment the following day. The nurse ushered us into an examining room. The usual uneasy waiting for the doctor’s knock and entry was, this time, excruciating: 10 minutes seemed like 10 hours. And then it came. The doctor entered and put the MRI films on the light box. “I have hard news. You have a brain tumor.” He was pointing to the MRI and explaining, but neither Ruth Ann or I heard much after that first sentence. We were in shock. One thing we did get, as much through non-verbal communication as words, was This is serious. After a few minutes the thought came to me, This is important. Numb isn’t going to help you. You’d better wake up so you can hear what the doctor has to tell you. I made a huge effort, and then began to hear him say, as in a dream, “Put your affairs in order. You have an appointment with the brain surgeon next Tuesday.” And then, “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I cried last night when I told my wife about your case.”

Over the next few day as I waited for the scheduled appointment — beset, on the one hand, by a desire to simply pass the time mindlessly and, on the other, by the hyper clarity that comes when you know you are to be shot at sunrise — I began slowly to piece together a plan for how I was going to approach this journey. How I engaged was critical, the most important choice I could make. I’ve long believed that we have much more choice than most of us realize. Of course, I couldn’t choose not to have the tumor, but I could, at least theoretically, choose how I would respond. I was now being given the opportunity to move theory into practice, to “walk my talk.”

This threshold or liminal period, waiting to meet the surgeon, was also the time an intuitive insight was forming: My story was larger than just about me; indeed, it might be a representative, parallel story to the current state of our collective human–Earth story.

When we met the surgeon, his clear expertise and confidence increased my confidence and comfort.

“This is your tumor,” he told me. “No one has ever had a tumor exactly like this one. No matter what the statistics say, every tumor reacts differently. Don’t pay too much attention to statistics.” I found that advice hopeful and empowering. Helpful also was his observation: “To you, the surgery will be a blink. To me, it will be four hours. To your wife, it will be an eternity.”

I was able to mine the many layers of this observation. The blink reminded me of the almost magical sophistication of our medical technology. The four hours suggested that this surgery was routine, just another day at the office. The eternity recalled just how precious this life experience and our relationships are — what a blessing and privilege to be alive on Earth. All three perspectives worked together to bring me to a place of comfort and peace.

And then, a surprise. The doctor said, “You’re scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning. Check in at 6:00 a.m.” Though we knew a swift response was critical, we expected surgery would happen within a week; a mere 15 hours was unsettling. My intuition was very clear. I told the doctor I needed at least a couple of days to prepare. After a long pause, he told me he would check the schedule.” He came back in a few minutes and said, “We can do it next Tuesday.”

This felt right. I knew in my heart that any downside from postponing a few days would be more than offset by having time to prepare mentally and spiritually. Looking back on this, I also see that this was a turning point of reclaiming my conscious role as active partner in my healing.

I had six days. I made the very most of it. It was a week filled with fun, family, friends, and appreciation. I arrived at the hospital very early on Tuesday, turned myself over to the doctors’ agenda, surrendered quickly to the anesthetic, and a blink later snapped back into full consciousness in the recovery room. There was no grogginess: one moment I was out, the next instant fully present. And the first words that came into my consciousness were, We have come here to be moved to tears. We have come here to inspire and be inspired. I was surprised by the wisdom in this statement. Tears — tears of sorrow, tears of joy — are the mark of the depth of an experience, the degree of life in an experience. This deeply meaningful gift was just one of the many unexpected and powerful blessings we’ve received as the story continues. We’ve had many tears, many more of joy than of sorrow.

The morning following my surgery, I awoke very early and then began to drift in and out of that sweet state of hypnogogic consciousness between wakefulness and sleep. And then it happened. I got it! I really got it! I had the undeniable experience of Oneness with all creation. There were no boundaries, no time, no separation of any kind. I was the universe, the universe was me. I have no idea how long this state lasted in worldly time; it was an eternity — not in the sense of a perception of a very long time, but in the sense of timelessness.

I have long had an intellectual belief in our Oneness. I understand how everything emerged from the single point, the source of Oneness, 13.7 billion years ago in the Big Bang. I have been a student of the Universe Story, the amazing story of the evolution of emergence that has resulted in the beautiful, complex diversity we see everywhere we look. I know intellectually that this almost infinite diversity offers such a compelling illusion of separateness that few are able to transcend it. I have lots of words to talk about Oneness, but at that moment all the words fell away, and I had, for the first time in my life, the blessed experience of Oneness, and I will be in the world differently from that point on.

My story continues. I am doing well. Well is how I am doing, and well is what I am doing. I will continue on chemotherapy through December 2007. There is both uncertainty and certainty in my story, as is true for every one of us.

Here is what is uncertain: Although every step on this adventure has been accompanied by the best possible results — every MRI has been clear, showing no sign of recurrence — the statistics for my situation are quite daunting. Here is what is certain: I am not a statistic. And I am alive now, more fully alive now than before the tumor.

Our Story

We humans are at a crucial time in the unfolding of our human–Earth story. Learning together will be the most important factor in the survival of the Earth and ourselves. I see many parallels between my personal story and our collective story. I offer these glimpses in the hope that they may inspire you, in your own way, to live more fully.

• I was asleep, unaware of the trouble I was about to face. I was distracted by a very busy life. If I had paid more attention to my health, I would have noticed sooner. The call to awaken comes gently at first, then ever more insistently, until it can no longer be ignored. In like manner, the subtle (and not so subtle!) signs of trouble on the planet are apparent, if we pay attention. The Earth is giving us a wake-up call; how dire must things become before we awaken and do something? The longer we wait, the lower our prospects for recovery.
• Even after taking the first step, seeing the doctor, I was all too willing to step back into comfortable denial (“There’s no reason for me to come in, is there?”). It’s very painful to accept the truth — “This is serious” — but there is no hope without that acceptance.
• The five stages of grief, as named by Elizabeth Kűbler-Ross, are equally applicable in individual and our collective cases: (1) denial, (2) anger, (3) bargaining, (4) despair, (5) acceptance. I’ve gone through these stages, as have so many individuals. These stages also provide a helpful framework as we collectively come to grips with what we and the Earth are facing. For our collective story, once we get to the stage of acceptance, it opens many choices of practical significance. Although Kűbler-Ross is talking about acceptance of inevitable physical death, acceptance includes coming to a place of choice about how to live the time that we have left. We may, if we are wise, choose death to the unsustainable ways we have been living in order to give birth to new ways of living in sustainable harmony with Earth.
• Cancer is a very interesting illness and metaphor. The overriding characteristic of every kind of cancer cell is unrestrained progress; they literally do not know when to stop replicating. As we look around at human impact on the Earth, most of our problems arise from too much of a good thing. Advances that offer the promise of great benefit when first introduced become untenable when widespread. The automobile is a classic example; will the world be a better place when every family on the planet has a car?
• We all are beneficiaries of our miraculous technological progress. I am acutely aware of this truth. At the same time we also are all impacted by the negative consequences of that same progress. It’s time to rebalance the relationship between knowledge and wisdom, between more and enough. As I’ve discovered in my own experience, this rebalancing is not something to be feared, but is actually a path to greater peace and joy. And I am convinced that this is true at both individual and collective levels.
• You have to do the work yourself, but you don’t do it alone. One of the greatest blessings of this journey is the love and support offered to us through our various communities. It has been difficult to receive so much. I can attest that it is easier to give than to receive. But this journey has put us, over and over, in positions of having no choice but to receive — from doctors and nurses, from family, from friends, from community, from strangers. Although difficult, learning to receive has been an experience of beauty and grace. The work of healing the planet will be work that we do together, with each of us both giving and receiving.
• This is the time for loving right action, individually and collectively. One of my first and greatest fears following the diagnosis was, “I won’t have time to complete my work.” I now know I will have all the time I need to complete my work on the planet because I am approaching it from a different consciousness. Rather than fear, I am now working from a place of love, peace, calm, faith, and without attachment: fully engaged, and not attached. I do know how crucial and time sensitive our work is, both to ourselves and to the planet.
• Another gift of this journey has been the opportunity — no, the necessity — to reevaluate what truly matters. Many things I used to think were so important have simply fallen away. I have greater clarity about what is my work, and greater peace in trusting others to discern and do their work. As Buddha said, “Your work is to discover your work and then with all your heart to give yourself to it.” Yes, the situation is urgent. The paradox is that frenetic, martyring action is not the answer. Action from a calm, centered, principled place of love will have the greatest impact.

The greatest blessing of all is my experience of our Oneness. May we all be so blessed. For all beings. Namaste.

Spiritual Activism and Liberation Spirituality by Claudia Horwitz and Jesse Maceo Vega-Frey

The authors work with stone circles, a nonprofit organization that sustains activists and strengthens the work for justice through spiritual practice and principles. Claudia Horwitz is a yoga teacher, activist, and the author of The Spiritual Activist: Practices to Transform Your Life, Your Work and Your World. A former member of the Second Journey’s Board of Directors, she currently serves on its Advisory Council. Jesse Maceo Vega-Frey is a mediator, facilitator, and artist, who tries to live a life that engages all his relations in endeavors that point toward freedom.

There is a new culture of activism taking form in the world — a new paradigm for how we work, how we define success, how we integrate the fullness of who we are, and what we know in the struggle for justice. Activists are being asked to examine our current historical moment with real intimacy, with fresh eyes, fire, and compassion. Many of the once-groundbreaking methods we know and use have now begun to rot. Many of our tactics are now more than simply ineffective — they are dangerous.

For agents of change, and all those who we work with, the detriment is twofold. We are killing ourselves and we are not winning. A life of constant conflict and isolation from the mainstream can be exhausting and demoralizing. Many of our work habits are unhealthy and unsustainable over the long haul. The structures of power have become largely resistant to our tactics. Given the intensity of our current historical circumstance it would be easy for us to rely on what we know, to fall back upon our conditioning and our historical tendencies, in our efforts to create change under pressure. Many lessons of the past carry wisdom; others are products and proponents of dysfunctional systems and ways of being in the world. A new paradigm requires a complex relationship with history; we must remember and learn from the past, but we cannot romanticize it.

Neither do we presume that the answer lies only in the new, the innovative, and the experimental. We carry the hearts and minds of the ancient ones of many traditions, across time and continents, while also connecting to the resources that surround us. Our intention is to survive and flourish in the landscape that in which we find ourselves living. A new philosophy and practice of social change is emerging, one that grows out of an ethic of sustainability, spirituality, and a broader understanding of freedom. We are weaving old threads together in new forms and new ways of being.

spiritual activism and liberation spirituality

At its best, this new paradigm, which some of us are calling “spiritual activism” or “liberation spirituality,” is revolutionary. It provides us with deepened competencies and tools to go forward in this tangle of conditions history has prepared for us and to assume the roles we’re being asked to play. While the field growing up around this new paradigm is varied and vast, we are beginning to see each other and understand what we share:

• a deep commitment to spiritual life and practice
• a framework of applied liberation
• an orientation towards movement-building
• a desire for fundamental change in the world based on equity and justice

We are moving toward a doing that grows more deliberately out of being; an understanding that freedom from external systems of oppression is dynamically related to liberation from our internal mechanisms of suffering. It provides us with a way to release the construct of “us versus them” and live into the web of relationship that links all. Instead of being limited by the reactions of fight or flight, we encounter a path that finds fullness in presence. The humility of not-knowing allows truth to appear where fear once trapped us. We recognize the pervasive beauty of paradox, the dynamic tension between two simultaneous truths that seem contradictory. We enlarge our capacity to hold contradictions and to be informed by them. And our movements for change are transformed as a result.

swimming in the dominant culture

The culture of activism in the United State is like a fish swimming in murky waters. It lives and breathes in the dominant culture, and it is greatly impacted by its nature. Even as we are attempting to change this culture, we easily overlook how it has impacted us and how we recreate it. As we begin to understand and reckon with these attributes, we start to unravel their influence. Like anything, the more we invite and allow ourselves to notice and name what is, the more space, opportunity, and permission conditions have to change.

All too often we are limited in our capacity to connect deeply with ourselves, with each other, and with reality because of deep instability in our being. We are knocked around by the tumult of our daily lives, battered by the constant barrage of bad news and by overwork and despair. We work more hours than our bodies and psyches can stand. We may deceive ourselves about the very nature of possibility and the openings for change, get stuck in postures of despair and cynicism, or find ourselves caught up in a rigid relationship to time, task, and relationship. More is more, more is better. Long-term vision is sacrificed for immediate and inadequate gains. Opportunities for collaboration become mired in competition. Our anxiety around scarcity and the sense of a world on the verge of collapse disables us and disconnects us from our own internal sources of wisdom, vision, and spaciousness. None of these tendencies is inherently wrong, but each is limiting if not balanced with a more holistic and revolutionary approach.

from suffering to liberation

Because the ups and downs can be unbearable, many of us learn to intuitively disconnect from our bodies, our environments, our emotional worlds, and other people around us. We feel incapable of functioning in a world of deep intimacy, and so we protect ourselves with the armor of anger, denial, self-neglect, and abuse — all in an effort to shield us from the depression, disenchantment, and discouragement we fear would overwhelm us if we gave it space. Our strategies often emanate from this place of suffering, forged of anguish and a polarized understanding of the forces at work in the world. It’s vital that we learn how to see our own suffering, to have some ongoing relationship with the internal pain that has immeasurable impact on the people around us, on the work we do, and on our own happiness. If we’re not healthy, we can’t think as clearly. If we’re only working out of anger, we reproduce the energy and momentum of destruction. If our visions for the world tend toward the fantastical or the apocalyptic, they cannot act as good guides for action.

We can look around the globe today and see how individual suffering comes to life in collective forms and how society is a manifestation and projection of our own internal turmoil. Individual hatreds lead to violence of all forms — state-sanctioned oppression, violence, war, and domestic and sexual abuse. Greed leads to unjust economic systems, distrust of others, the construction of individuals as mere factors of production, non-livable wages, exploitation of natural resources, and the insatiable desire to consume regardless of cost. Delusion in the news, media, and advertisements promotes a sense of individualism and isolation, and over-consumption and hubris on an individual and national level. We’re familiar with these forms of collective suffering because they are much of the motivating forces behind our quest for justice.

And yet we know it doesn’t have to be this way. We know human beings have access to a wellspring of wisdom, good will, and compassion. So, how do we begin to change our selves, our organizations and institutions, our society, our world? What are the tactics that lend themselves to the kind of transformation we are seeking in the world?

We desire freedom. We desire a way of being that expresses the best of what we have to offer as human beings — our truth, our joy, our complex intelligence, our kindness. For some, freedom comes when we experience ourselves and the world around us as sacred, when we have a consistent awareness of the divine and our embodiment of it. For some, freedom is paying attention to what is and accepting it, even as we also want space to dream about what could be, without censorship. Freedom thrives in individual wholeness and in strong, flexible relationships with others. We want to see deeply and we want to be seen. We want to remember, over and over again, how our destinies are woven together. We want a spirituality that holds the liberation of all people at the center and an activism that is not void of soul.

A liberated society and person is one that can hold the truth of different ways, perspectives, and mind states at the same time, where there is a complete acceptance of the way things are that also holds a prophetic vision of how things could be. We want collective liberation, and we get there through spiritual practice, liberatory forms, a liberatory relationship to form, skillful group process, and embracing difference and unity.

collective liberation through spiritual practice

Spiritual practice builds a reservoir of spaciousness and equanimity that can provide us with access to our deepest capacities in the midst of great turmoil and difficulty, tension, and conflict. The key is in the ability to deeply and compassionately connect with our experience in any moment without clinging or rejecting, allowing for what is to arise and be engaged with wisdom without friction or resistance. Real, meaningful change can only happen in these places of compassionate and powerful acceptance of our own capacities and our personal and societal limitations. When we clearly open to what is we gain the ground to imagine what might be possible. And in the places where we cannot be as breezy as we want to be, we try to develop compassion for ourselves and each other, gentleness with our learning edges that allows us the space to grow where we can. We can create communities of practice, where ancient and traditional wisdom and practices are made relevant and current; they are shared in community. We can bring a depth of practice and learning to our spiritual path, and a strengthening of our own emotional container. Attaining some level of mastery in our own tradition or practice accelerates our learning and enhances our ability to experience and receive the wisdom and gifts from other traditions.

collective liberation through liberatory forms

How do we embody ways of being and create ways of working that make real freedom possible? We do it by creating forms that lean toward freedom. We live in a world of form. Institutions, buildings, bodies, ideas — all are the forms which we use to negotiate and navigate through our interrelated lives. There are certain forms — institutions and practices — that function to quash, limit, or undermine our freedom. Some of the more obvious, all manifestations of collective suffering, include prisons, slavery, and totalitarian regimes. Some forms tend to promote liberation:
collective struggle in the form of grassroots movements, unions, and locally based organizing

• farms, food cooperatives, and community-supported agriculture models
• religious and spiritual communities that call forth ecstatic expression, nurture contemplative refuge, and build strong community
• justice-centered retreat centers that offer an oasis for incubation
• creative protests that convey urgent messages in unexpected forms
• experiential and direct education that values students as experts of their own experience
• artistic venues that capture reality in compelling and unchartered ways
• forms of communication that leave us feeling animated and inspired rather than drained and beat up
• local merchants founded in an ethic of fair economics and community interest
• communal and intentional living experiments

collective liberation through a liberatory relationship to form

New, innovative forms that aim for justice and lean toward freedom do not guarantee true liberation. We know the depths of suffering and oppression that can be found within our so-called revolutionary institutions — from unions to collectives to communist systems of government. This is because form itself is not freedom. Our willingness and ability to develop a revolutionary relationship to forms, to institutions, to ideas, to practices, is equally important to our success as the forms themselves.

There are numerous examples of physical, mental, and spiritual liberation occurring within the confines of oppressive forms such as prisons or slavery. Nelson Mandela, Malcolm X, Aung San Suu Kyi, and Victor Frankel all had profound experiences of awakening while in the confines of prison walls. True freedom is realized when we develop the internal capacity to not be the victim or captive of any form, of any experience, of any condition. This means deeper understandings of who we are and what is needed in a given moment, based on realities beyond the conceptual, the intellectual, the known. This depth comes through contemplative practice, through worship, through communion with the divine, through ceremony. When we act out of faith (not necessarily in a divine being or external force) and align fiercely with what is we gain power, strength, and presence that enables our actions to be driven by wisdom and compassion rather than craving, aversion, and delusion.

collective liberation through skillful group process

We can practice liberation in our group forms, appreciating the energetic and intellectual dimensions of a group field when real skillfulness is present. We recognize liberation in a group; we see it, we hear it, or we feel it. We can sense when a group is operating with a high degree of well-being in their culture. Sometimes it is most visible in models of leadership and decision-making which operate with honesty, respect, and cultural relevancy. Privilege, power, and rank are acknowledged and engaged. Issues below the surface of daily life are consistently brought to light. When groups are operating with a certain level of internal and external freedom, change is not shunned, but welcomed. Relationships are resilient; people feel supported and challenged in good balance. There is value placed on imagination and intuition, on creativity and story, both a mode of individual expression and as a way of accessing the collective psyche.

Much has been written about skillful group process. In brief, it entails deep listening, moving from a place of faith, the ability to hold space for dissent, understanding the roles and needs of both individuals and the group as a whole, and taking decisive action when appropriate. Skillful group facilitators recognize there is a dance between structure and flexibility, between knowing and not knowing, between cutting each other some slack and prodding each other to be more rigorous. The organizing principles of collective liberation encourage authenticity and disagreement. We embrace conflict as a powerful tool for learning and growth. We see times of challenge and struggle as an opportunity to go deeper.

collective liberation through embracing difference and unity

One of the fatal flaws of both spiritual and progressive movements is the inability to powerfully embrace both difference and unity. When unity becomes a habit, conformity results and we don’t have enough creativity to thrive. When differences dominate, we don’t have enough unity to accomplish anything significant. Too easily, we view difference with suspicion and fear, a factionalism disintegrates rather than strengthens. We lose space for varied expressions of our humanity. Or, we get caught in the trap of wanting everyone to agree to one strategy for collective movement. The work of politics disallows dissent or distinction in favor of expediency and the “party line,” or it results in rebellion, marginalization, and fragmentation. In the spiritual world, an insistence on “the oneness of all life” or submissive faith in God can prevent a healthy attending to meaningful conflict, the realities of oppression, and the internal and external methods of domination and control.

We can create ways of being and acting that are strong enough for both difference and unity. Our ability to work powerfully across multiple lines of difference is dependent upon our ability to connect intimately with our selves, our vision, and each other. We believe that the fundamental purpose of connecting around a common experience of humanity, of living and breathing in our oneness, is to be able to healthily engage, explore, and celebrate our very real differences as people. And that engaging in collective and individual spiritual practice is a method that uniquely allows for the skillful development of both of these capacities. We are learning to be inclusive in a way that doesn’t disable us, more willing to see that we can be allied without being the same. Unity that is complete connectedness is called “love.” But love is more than the expression of deep emotion or the pull to intimacy. It is a love that can become intimate with grief, stand firmly in the fire of conflict, and witness horror without recoiling. It is the kind of love that keeps our senses open and does not shrink from truth. It is relentlessly inclusive.

moving forward …

Spiritual activism and liberation spirituality are ways of being and acting that encourage an intimacy that retains discernment. With ease and with care, we can find ways to link the powerful urges for freedom inside ourselves with the collective urge for freedom that humanity has known since the beginning of time. We can commit to ongoing analysis of and consciousness around our dominant culture, its forces of oppression, and how these affect our work. We can develop a nuanced understanding of what it means to live and work across multiple lines of difference. And we can create the conditions that allow us to move from suffering to collective liberation.

Becoming a Force for Change by Barbara Kammerlohr

“The world is as you dream it,” the shaman said.
To change it “All you have to do is change the dream.”
— John Perkins

Three authors — David Korten, John Perkins, and Paul Hawken — whose wisdom qualifies them as “elders” have each written recent books about the current challenges facing humanity. All have a similar message: Earth is at a crisis point. As a species, we can still “turn it around,” but that will require deep and lasting change. A brief look at the lives of each shows the many paths to personal wisdom, and each book can serve as a roadmap to spur us to work in the world. All offer a variety of solutions to the horrific problems facing the planet. Individually committing ourselves to just one small piece of the waiting work can lead to a lifetime of service and elder wisdom.

“Elder” has recently become the politically correct way to refer to members of our generation. That the world no longer sees us as “senior citizens” is a sign of the changing landscape of our “Second Journey” and signals an evolution in the experience of growing old in Western culture. However, using the word in that manner also dilutes the concept of “elder” held by more traditional societies, a concept which attaches to specific roles and evokes a more positive image.

In those cultures, an elder is someone with the deep wisdom that comes from living a life of integrity for a very long time. The insights and practical solutions to real problems offered by such people have the power to benefit an entire tribe, village, or society. Their wisdom is a treasure, a communal resource, that — when shared — enhances society as a whole. Respect naturally flows to such an individual.

Calling someone an “elder” rather than a “senior” — a first step in restoring old age to the position of respect it once held — is, however, not enough. For true respect to return to our generation, those of us who have begun this “Second Journey” must develop an understanding of what “elder” means and strive to become one. This means we must pursue wisdom for its value to ourselves, our families, communities, nation and Earth as our home. We “elders-in-training” must then become part of a force for change in the world. Only then will we receive the respect accorded traditional elders.

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David Korten, John Perkins, and Paul Hawken — mining their own varied life experiences — have each written books with the potential to awaken practical wisdom in those who want to leave Earth a better place than it was when we arrived.

The Great Turning: From Empire to Earth Community (Berrett-Koehler, 2006) follows up on Korten’s best-seller, When Corporations Ruled the World. In that first book, he sought to expose “the destructive and oppressive nature of the global corporate economy and…spark a global resistance movement.” In The Great Turning, however, he sees the problem through a wider lens and with far greater consequences:

As the crisis has continued to intensify, I have come to see that the issues I addressed in When Corporations Ruled the World are a contemporary manifestation of much deeper historical patterns and that changing course will require far more than holding global corporations accountable for the social and environmental consequences of their actions

Korten concludes that we humans have arrived at a turning point — the end of a deeply destructive era. We are at a defining moment. Only 27% of humanity currently enjoys the material affluence of this consumer society, and “It would take an additional three to four planets to support the excluded populations of the world at the level of consumption prevailing in Europe.” The depth of change needed can only be built on a spiritual foundation. Our stories and myths about our way of being in the world must change if we are to change the human course. Near the end of the book, Korten offers strategies for birthing the new order of “Earth Community.”

The ideas in The Great Turning are compelling and fascinating and echo the foundational teachings of all great spiritual paths — it is only through a change in consciousness that material change happens in the world.

John Perkins, in The Secret History of the American Empire: Economic Hit Men, Jackals and the Truth about Global Corruption (Dutton, 2007), echoes many of the points made by Korten, but from a different perspective. Whereas Korten, true to his academic background, carefully documents his assertions, Perkins uses stories from his own life and from the lives of other “hit men” and “jackals.” Both books, however, make the point that corporations now play the role of dominator once played by kings and other dictators. The poverty and sense of hopelessness they see corporate activity causing, in their opinion ferments terrorism.

If we are to change a world ruled by the corporatocracy, we must, as Perkins sees it, change the corporations. Though corporations are still very much in the driver’s seat, Perkins believes they suspect their days are numbered, and he asserts that change is happening in very significant ways.

If you must choose between the two books, the well-done vignettes and stories in The Secret History of the American Empire make it an easier read than The Great Turning. Though Perkins’ book will probably hold your attention the longest, do not give up on Korten’s book. It is well-documented, and his thesis that corporate influence is just a modern-day manifestation of an age-old problem has merit. The implications of this assertion run deep.

Paul Hawken’s book, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw it Coming (Viking, 2007) emerged from a decade of researching organizations dedicated to restoring the environment and fostering social justice. Hawken agrees with Perkins and Korten that the “planet has a life-threatening disease marked by massive ecological degradation and rapid climate change.” But his focus is less on the negatives and more on what is going right on the planet.

Hawken describes a movement composed of thousands of small nonprofit organizations that has formed in response to injustice, inequities and corruption. One organization alone would probably not make a big dent in the monumental challenges we face. However, taken all together, they make a significant difference.

The movement does not fit the standard model. It is dispersed, inchoate, and fiercely independent. It has no manifesto or doctrine, no overriding authority to check with. It is taking shape in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, companies, deserts, fisheries, slums — and yes even fancy New York hotels… As I counted the vast number of organizations it crossed my mind that perhaps I was witnessing the growth of something organic, if not biologic. Rather than a movement in the conventional sense, could it be an instinctive, collective response to threat?

Hawken’s book is short — 190 pages of text with the rest of its 342 pages taken up by an appendix that describes the organizations Hawken researched.

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Many readers of Itineraries have already identified the work they will do to make a difference in the world they will leave to their children. For those who have not yet found “their calling,” these authors provide a wealth of ideas worthy of your time, resources and energies. Those not into in reading books can find the same stimulation from the websites of each author.

News and Notices

A crop of great summer reads started hitting bookstore shelves this past spring. Here’s a selection:

• Leap! by journalist, screenwriter, and radio host Sara Davidson;
• Encore by Civic Ventures founder Marc Freedman; and
• Finding Community, by Communities
• The Not So Big Life by architect Sarah Susanka, author of popular The Not So Big House series;
• Blessed Unrest by environmentalist, entrepreneur, and journalist Paul Hawken;
• John Perkin’s follow-up book to his bestseller, Confessions of an Economic Hit Mann.

Second Journey Elects Board of Directors, Creates National Advisory Council

At its annual meeting, the leadership of Second Journey passed from a 6-member interim Board to a permanent 5-member Board based in North Carolina. The interim Board had been charged with directing the organization’s transition to a new organizational structure, and the new Board immediately acted to ratify a recommended advisory structure with national representation.