Friday, May 7, 2010
San Diego and Jan Phillips Part 2
I can't remember being in a city that has as many blooming plants as San Diego. Everywhere there was beauty and color, and for me the fruitfulness became a metaphor for the workshop.
On Saturday morning, we began the real work of determining one thing that we could be successful at workshopping. One woman, a stylist, wanted to work with cancer patients on their inner and outer beauty. Another woman had recently found the daughter she gave up for adoption and wanted to help others make the transition go smoothly. When it came to me, I really couldn't think what I wanted to do. I said something vague and tearful about working with children, then said that I sort of thought I had already worked with children, and finally sat red-eyed and puzzled. "We'll get back to you," Jan said, and we moved to the next person.
All morning as others worked out the details of their workshop, I kept trying to think about what it was I wanted to do. At lunch my husband reminded me that the whole reason I came was because I wanted to create a space for workshops, not just be a good facilitator. And I think he went and tattled to the teacher because after lunch, she said, "Do you have a confession to make?"
When I think of the word "facilitator" I immediately go to the root word, facile, which means easy in French. And I think of facilitation as the process of making things simple for others, not just at the moment of participation, but after they leave the workshop. What I want to do is make it easy for the facilitator by creating a space where they can work their magic.
So this was my inner "aha" moment. For the rest of the weekend I was able to move forward with this in a very big way. This was the seed and the bud of an idea; the flowers will come later.
A nougat from Jan: When something becomes an ordeal in your life, do three things:
1. Ask yourself, "Why did this happen for me?" and,
2. What is the reason that I invited this into my life?
3. Dwell in gratitude for where you stand right now.
And another thing she said: "Don't ask yourself what Jesus would do. Ask what a fully realized you would do."
My father broke his hip today, and at 88 years old this is no small problem. He lives in a house that has many steps leading up to his bedroom and there will be logistical problems when he comes home. I'm off to see about him tomorrow, and will try to post Part 3 from the hospital. But I'm not finished with the story of our trip, so hold on to your horses until I can get back.