Ruined or Resillient?

Robert V. Taylor

We each experience the Fires of Life.  But what does it mean to be human in the most horrifying of circumstances? What happens to our human spirit? In Ruined, Lynne Nottage the playwright explores these questions in a story set amidst the ongoing atrocities and war in the Congo. Winner of the 2009 Pulitzer, the play was directed in Chicago and New York by Kate Whoriskey. Ruined is currently at the Intiman in Seattle and moving on to Los Angeles and Johannesburg.  Robert and Kate share a conversation.

RVT: How did two American women who’d never visited the Congo before have an idea emerge to write a play set in the war torn region of the Congo?

KW: In 2004, Lynn Nottage and I were working on our second collaboration, Fabulation. On a break, we got into a conversation about Brecht. We found that both of us admired Mother Courage, and the cruel paradox at the heart of the play—that Mother Courage profited from a war that took her children. Lynn wanted to do a new version of the play that would be set in Congo. The war over natural resources had been raging there for years at that point, with very little mainstream media attention. Lynn used to work for Amnesty International, and she was very disturbed that the media was not paying attention to the fact that violence was being targeted against women and girls, perpetuated through the use of rape as a weapon. She thought that doing this adaptation might call attention to the crisis.

Months passed without our talking about this, then one day Lynn called me and asked me if I wanted to go to the bordering country of Uganda with her; she had already bought her own ticket, so I had to decide quickly. I went with her almost on a whim, and we interviewed Congolese women who had crossed over the border to escape the violence. After we did these interviews, it became clear that we did not want to be beholden to Brecht’s ideas. Lynn was interested in portraying the lives of Central Africans as accurately as she could, and she wanted to tell a story that would be true to our experiences in Uganda, and the stories of the women we interviewed and the people we met. A year later, Lynn returned to Africa and interviewed refugees fleeing armed conflicts in Congo, Uganda, Sudan and Somalia, and we began developing the play that eventually became Ruined.

RVT: Mama Nadi, the main character in Ruined, runs a bar and brothel which is used to protect the young women in her care from soldiers whose comrades have raped and mutilated them.  What unexpected learning’s did the stories of the women of the Congo teach you about the human spirit?

Kate Whoriskey by Chad Batka

KW: What struck both of us from our trip was that while there was incredible chaos in the region, this was also home. The people of the Congo, especially the women, were determined to survive and build lives there. When the media focuses attention on areas like the Congo, they often describe the violence, the poverty and the AIDS crisis. We learned that it is important to hear the full story, the positive alongside the negative. What was so great about our trip is that we witnessed great beauty, strength and artistry, and that is what we tried to celebrate in Lynn’s writing and in the production.

RVT: Ruined is serious theater!  It invites the audience into the reality of rape, sexual slavery and violence in the battle over prized natural resources in the Congo.  Any yet the play is also about a larger human story.  How do audiences respond to you about their experiences?

Portia (Mama Nadi)

KW: I think I speak for everyone who has been involved with Ruined—from the acting ensemble to the designers to the producers—that it has truly been a privilege to work on the play. What has been so incredible for us all is that audiences seem to respond with the same sense of privilege—they feel lucky to get to spend two hours in this world. Here in Seattle, at the Intiman, we even extended before we opened, which is fantastic.

What I love most about watching Ruined with an audience is that you can see the response that people have to the play, and also to the real world that the play is about. Audiences come away from it wanting to do something to make a difference. At Intiman, at the end of every performance the actors in the company collect donations for the Panzi Hospital of Bukavu, which provides treatment and services for women who are survivors of sexual violence in the Congo—including those needing surgical repair resulting from rape or childbirth trauma—and children conceived as the result of rape.  We also did this in New York, but the response here has been tremendous. Watching people stand up and applaud the actors to say “thank you” for their passion and commitment, and then give money to help women in the Congo, really affirms for me the power of theatre to inspire change.

The play has also reached policy makers, which is very exciting to me; it has attracted the attention of the United Nations, the U.S. Senate and the British Parliament. We know that the play will not end a war, but people are paying attention to the conflict because of the play, and doing something about it.

RVT: The play has a romantic and “happy” ending.  What does that say about who we are as people even in the midst of violence and abuse?

The ending is romantic, but I would say that it is less “happy” than it is hopeful. Lynn has the gift and the genius for looking inside moments that are about chaos and disruption and psychic damage, absorbing all of that, and then writing a narrative that shows us we are capable of so much more.

RVT: The original New York cast is performing Ruined in Seattle and Los Angeles this summer and then on to the famous Market Theater in Johannesburg, South Africa. Why there and why now?

Ruined

KW: The run in Los Angeles is part of a co-production with the Geffen Theatre. Then in October, Intiman is bringing Ruined to the Market Theatre to launch our new International Cycle. People have asked us we are not bringing the play to the Congo, but there is no theatre company in the DRC and we must never forget that Ruined is a play, and that it has the greatest impact because it combines truth and research with art and imagination. But more importantly, we chose the Market because of its unique history as the “Theatre of the Struggle” under apartheid, when it produced important political theatre and opened its doors to all the people of South Africa. That is a legacy that should be honored.

As we are planning this trip, we are reaching out to organizations in and around Johannesburg not only so we can attract audiences, but because we want to work with human rights and women’s rights groups. Our ambition is to collaborate with these groups and develop opportunities for conversations, programs and video testimonials around the play. There is a sizable population of Congolese refugees in South Africa and we want to reach out to them. More than that, presenting Ruined in South Africa creates a unique opportunity for this play to speak to audiences that have (through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission) already deeply explored what it means to have a national crisis of conscience and overcome trauma, in a country that must continue right now to confront its own deeply rooted culture of violence against women.  

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Listen? Stop Just Hearing!

Robert V. Taylor & Paul Donoghue

Attentive listening is life transforming.  Paul Donoghue and Mary Siegel, authors of Are You Really Listening? Keys to Successful Communication join me in a blog converstion about the art and practices of listening.  Their wisdom invites us to join the thousands who have worked with them in allowing listening to transform our lives, relationships, workplaces and communities - beginning with you.

RVT:  In a culture filled with noise and instant responses is there a place for listening to become a positive life-affirming skill for people?  Perhaps even celebrated?

PD & MS:  Today we need time away from all the noise and distraction to listen to ourselves—our feelings, needs, thoughts.  We need to listen quietly to those we love no matter how occupied we think we are.  A very busy priest who headed a large religious order was asked if he meditated.   He answered, “Yes, I meditate a half hour each day.”  When he was asked, “But what do you do when a crisis occurs and you are in constant demand?”  He responded, “Then I meditate an hour a day.”

RVT:  Workplace environments are often fast paced.  Listening is frequently perceived as a poor use of time in many workplaces.  Have you discovered ways for people to turn listening into a workplace asset?

 

Mary Siegel

PD & MS:  So much time is wasted in workplaces, not by people listening but by people not listening.  Tasks have to be redone because a worker failed to listen carefully to directions.  A simple example:  countless meals are returned to already busy restaurant kitchens by waiters who didn’t confirm clearly the order that was given.  Waiters can learn to repeat back an order to confirm that they have heard accurately what the patron intended.  Employees in all settings can learn the simple skill of clarifying directions or information given rather than presuming, often inaccurately, that they have heard correctly. 

RVT:  We’re each leaders in some sphere of our lives.  Are there listening tools that enhance our leadership capacity?

PD & MS:  The most effective leaders know well those whom they are leading.  A good manager, for example, knows the hopes, dreams and needs of the people who report to her.  To attain this knowledge she has to listen.  The same holds true for the parent, the priest, and the teacher. 

RVT:  Is it possible for listening skills to turn around a personal or workplace relationship?

PD & MS:  Absolutely.  We consulted with an oil company that was riddled with dissension between the oilmen and the financial services personnel.  Each side, formed by entirely different cultures, was judging the other harshly.  These judgments triggered hurt and anger and resulted in very unproductive lack of cooperation.  When we were able to facilitate each group to listen to the other they were amazed that they shared so many values and agreed upon so many issues.  They learned to respect one another and to value their different contributions to the company’s success.  Difference can be divisive, but, through understanding, can be richly complementary. 

RVT:  What do you say to the person who listens well and persists in hoping that another will develop the same skills in order to strengthen the relationship?  Is this a use of negative energy or is it beating your head against the wall?

 

PD & MS: It depends.  Sometimes it is fruitful in a relationship to lead by example.  Generally, we want to listen as skillfully as possible to our partners trusting that our consistent empathic attention will invite him or her to listen in return.  Sometimes, however, the more attentive partner will need to speak assertively and with self-respect regarding his or her need to be heard.  Such assertion demands skill and is the subject of our new book to be published in September, We Really Need to Talk.  But sometimes a person has to “know when to fold” and when to stop pursuing a loving response that is simply not forthcoming. 

RVT:  The art of listening seems to be as much about a way of life, a way of engaging with ourselves and others as much as it is about tools and techniques for listening.  Are there steps to cultivate this art in our lives?

Paul Donoghue

PD & MS:   Well put, Robert.  Listening is an art, a skill and a way of living.  In a Carson McCuller’s story a fellow sitting alone in a café talks to a young paper boy about his life.  He tells the boy that his wife has left him since he had not been ready to love her.  The man says that he first needed to listen to the uniqueness of a rock and then a tree and then an animal before he was ready to listen deeply to a person.  We need to orient ourselves to truly listen with appreciation to the world around us.  That is a way of life not just a communication skill.  

RVT:  I’ve come to believe that listening is a spiritual practice.  Are their insights that you have about this?

PD & MS:  Robert, you value listening as we do, not only as an essential interpersonal communication skill, but as a way of being in the world.  Listening is open, receptive attention to what is most real and what is most beautiful about someone or something.  We listen to the beauty of a sunset and to the beauty of our grandchild.  We listen to the truth in a work of art and the truth in our spouse.  Such listening challenges us to be alert.  The Prophet Elijah climbed Mount Horeb to listen for Yahweh.  There was a mighty wind that shattered rocks, but Yahweh was not in the wind.  There was an earthquake and a fire, but Yahweh was in them.  Then came a gently breeze and in that quiet, Yahweh came to Elijah.  We have to turn off the noise within us and outside us to hear what life, what God, is saying to us.

Share your stories of transformative listening here

Order Are You Really Listening? Keys to Successful Communication by Paul Donoghue and Mary Siegel here

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67 Minutes to Compassion? Mandela’s Human Calculation

Robert V. Taylor

Can 67 minutes make a difference? The organizers of Mandela Day believe that 67 minutes of compassionate action is one way to celebrate Nelson Mandela’s birthday on July 18th.  It’s not about the minutes.  It is about keeping the remarkable legacy of this iconic man alive. It is about the human connection.

Nelson Mandela turns 92 on July 18, 2010.  He is increasingly frail.  It is difficult to imagine the world without his towering moral presence among us.  On his 90th birthday Mandela spoke about the cause of freedom for all that his life has been devoted to.  “After 90 years of life, it is time for new hands to lift the burdens” he said.  “It is in your hands now.” His legacy and moral authority live on when we share in his vision through what we do.  There is nothing frail about this legacy.

His lifelong legacy about democracy, freedom, equality, respect, diversity, responsibility and reconciliation are unique.  But it is his generosity of spirit and compassion that reverberate so powerfully.  They are the markers of his spirit and the quest to be fully human, fully alive. He is iconic because his compassion and generosity of spirit are an invitation to cultivate those same qualities in our own lives and work.

Nelson Mandela

In 1998 I participated with Mandela in a memorial service in New York City to celebrate the life of Trevor Huddleston. Huddleston was an English monk and priest whose book, Naught for Your Comfort, revealed to the world the brutality of apartheid.  Against this deliberate crushing of the human sprit committed in the name of God, Huddleston pointed to a more inclusive, justice seeking and compassionate God.

The memorial service in New York was scheduled so that Mandela could be present to participate in honoring this humble man.  The 5,000 people gathered that afternoon heard Mandela’s affection for Huddleston.  They noticed that each man shared a profound joy in our oneness as people. They heard that the smallest actions we take in life add up.  What we do matters.

The call to action of Mandela Day to give 67 minutes to make the world a better place embodies the idea that each small thing we do is important. Each of the suggested minutes represents one year that Mandela has given his life to in the cause of freedom for all.

Is this just a gimmick?  The question is answered by how we think about using those minutes.  I immediately imagine what it would mean to watch Invictus with a young person who is part of the orbit of my life.  Some of those minutes would be used in talking about the movie.  Not only to re-introduce young people to Mandela’s legacy but to engage the questions of how his example gets lived out on the playing field, in the classroom and in life.

In the film Invictus, Mandela’s senior aide expresses the frustration that many in his circle felt about his keen interest in the predominantly white national rugby team winning the World Cup.  She tries to make sense of it by telling him it must be a “political calculation”.  He responds by saying, “It is a human calculation.”   It is a telling moment.  It stands in stark contrast to the political calculations that we have come to accept as a norm from so many leaders in multiple fields.  The human calculation is a mantra for leadership and everyday living.

The human calculation shifts the way we think of using the 67 minutes of service and tribute to Mandela. Mandela’s compassion reflects the compass of his life, that every human being has the capacity for goodness.  His compassion reflects the passion with which he believes that together is always better than the forces which divide.  The human calculation reflects a generosity of spirit forged in the most arduous of circumstances. 

67 minutes may not seem like much.  But it establishes a practice, a way of doing and a way of being.  Nothing that we do is wasted! It’s a reminder that we each play a part in polishing the world.  It is in our hands.

Share your stories of 67 minutes or the human calculation here or post your blog comments below!

You might enjoy Robert’s YouTbue video on Being a Repairer of the World

Read the book that inspired the movie Invictus.  Discover Desmond Tutu’s Made for Goodness here

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Heartless Youth? Growing Empathy in Our Kids

Robert V. Taylor

Are our youth heartless?  A new University of Michigan survey suggests this might be the case.  My personal experience and field research with parents suggests that there may be another story.  It has to do with us and the role we play in the lives of young people in our orbit.

Today’s college students are 40% less empathetic than the same age group in 1980 according to a study by Sara Konrath published in The New York Times.  That’s an alarming statistic. It has implications for all of us about compassion, empathy and kindness to one another. I’ve heard immediate reactions blaming technology and social media.  That’s a cheap blame game. 

My on the ground conversations with parents all reveal that the greater empathy killers may be adults.  Almost every adult has young people in the orbit of our lives.  If it takes a village to raise a child, do we care about the messages we send by our actions to young people?   

There are five steps that each of us can incorporate into our lives and, by implication, those with whom we interact.  They have to do with values, giving, service, stories and gleaning.

Values.  The actions we take, the choices we make as adults are like Tweets.  They are powerful shorthand communications to the young people round us.  One mother told me about taking her young child to the shelter for homeless women that she volunteered at once a month. 

The women of the shelter gravitated to her daughter.  “Tell us about your school. Do you have a home to live in? Do you have friends?” they wanted to know.  As mother and daughter left the shelter the young girl said, “It’s really cold outside Mom; do all women have a place to sleep?”  Her Mom believes in truthful answers and so she said, “No, but these women do.  That’s why we need places like this to provide a bed until they can get a home.”

Years later this same child orchestrated efforts in a local community to raise money to feed the hungry.  A value had been tweeted to her daughter.  A child had created a human connection with people she would not ordinarily meet.

Giving.  The unique interests of young people invite giving.  A father and son have bonded in their mutual love of baseball.  Baseball is the passion in this young man’s life.  This father and son activity has become an opportunity to give.  This summer the son is volunteering in a baseball camp in the Dominican Republic.  Understanding and empathy will be shaped by this experience –for the baseball coach and the campers.

There is no hierarchy in giving.  One parent offered this wisdom, “Let your children’s passions drive their giving.” Adults can add context.  Holiday celebrations – from Chanukah to Ramadan, to the Festival of Lights and Christmas – invite conversation about what they mean and the transformation that they point to.  Secular holidays from – July Fourth to Labor Day and Martin Luther King – invite stories about giving of ourselves to something larger than our self-interest.

Opportunities to give of ourselves are bountiful.  When young people, encouraged by adults, share their passions with others they discover common ground with others.

Service.  Parents repeatedly talk about the importance of service projects.  Some even select schools which place a significant emphasis on service for their children.  One parent told me that the most important service projects for her children have come from her children’s seemingly “silly” ideas. “Follow the lead of your kids” she urged.

Her six year old had experienced a homeless tent encampment and was determined to make peanut butter and honey sandwiches for people living there.  Knowing that these particular sandwiches might not be the most helpful food to make this mom did not says that it was a “silly” idea.  Instead they agreed to take food to the camp on a pre-determined future day.  In the build up to it, mom and daughter went shopping for food items that could be used in the camp.  On the scheduled delivery day they took the bags of food along with a small platter of peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

A parent listened to the lead and intuition of her child.  It became an opportunity to talk about the food that might be most needed but also honored the heartfelt idea behind the sandwiches.  Several parents spoke to me about the importance of intuitive, spontaneous service ideas generated by young people.  Adult awareness and listening to the desire to serve is as illuminating as the orchestrated service projects of a school, faith or community group.

Margaret Larson and Robert V. Taylor discuss Empathy in Our Kids - see link below to show on New Day, KING5

Stories!  The adults who took time to share the stories of their lives expanded my world and engaged my imagination as a child.  A young person’s experience can be an equally powerful story.  A mom accompanied her nine year old daughter on a choir trip to Nicaragua.  Arriving a few days before the rest of the group, they were given a tour of a garbage dump where children lived and scavenged for food.  

The guide offered this advice about a potentially harrowing experience, “Look for one child in the dump.  Concentrate only on that one child.  Look into his or her face.”  A young boy was among the first to climb onto a newly arrived garbage truck hoping for the first choice of trash from which to eat.  As the young girl focused on him he tried to stare her down and finally broke out in a broad smile, waved and ran off.

That night the daughter did not want to write in her Nicaragua journal about the experience but asked her mom to.  “Only if you let me read back to you what I’ve heard you say to make sure I’ve it right” said the mom.  Now headed to college this young woman never forgets the story of the young boy foraging for food in a garbage dump.  It is part of her story about compassion, empathy and kindness.

An innovative program offered by the organization, Bridges to Understanding, uses technology for digital storytelling.  Young people across the world share digital stories.  A child in the United States listens to and experiences the story of a child in India, Ghana or Colombia.  Technology is not the enemy!

Modeling how to tell stories and encouraging the telling of stories invites imagining living in the shoes of another person.  Imagination births empathy, compassion and kindness.

Glean.  No matter your own spiritual tradition gleaning from the wisdom of faith traditions is a way to invite reflection on values, service, giving and stories.  How does the Buddhist concept of happiness for all people relate to the experiences of adults and young people?  Is there a meeting point between this and Christian notions of love and compassion, Jewish ideas of repairing the world and Muslim injunctions to give to good works?

Gleaning from the treasure trove of spirituality is about more than the wisdom offered.  It becomes an opportunity to talk with young people about the people who practice a variety of faith traditions.  Gleaning invites imagining the life of a Buddhist child in Bhutan, a Christian in Ethiopia, a Jew in Argentina, a Muslim in Indonesia, and a Sikh in India or a Hindu in London.    

The plunging rates of empathy in college students will shift to the degree that adults understand that we each create encouragement about kindness, compassion and empathy by the way we engage with the youth in our orbit. Our values, giving, service, stories and gleaning are on display with every action and word we take. 

Empathy killers or empathy creators?  We’re all in this together.

Share your stories of growing empathy here

Watch Robert V. Taylor talk with Margaret Larson on New Day about Growing Empathy in Our Kids

Margaret Larson & Robert V. Talyor on KING5 New Day discuss Growing Empathy in Our Kids

Looking for resources on how to discuss empathy with young people?  Go to the Resources Page to find Wendy Mogel’s books and Mr. Peabody’s Apples

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Feasting, Cherry Pickers and Connection

Robert V. Taylor

Who we are, is reflected in how we feast and approach food.   It mirrors our spirit and how we engage with life.  The sights and sounds of cherry pickers harvesting this year’s crop have expanded my awareness about this.  The cherry pickers have invited me to new delight about the oneness that a spirituality of feasting invites.

The cherry orchards of Eastern Washington are a lively ecosystem during harvest.  Workers on ladders reach in to the trees to fill their buckets with the prized fruit.  Portable toilets are moved to follow the pickers.  Roads are commandeered by refrigeration trucks hauling fresh fruit to warehouses and markets.   Mobile taco stands roam the orchards selling enchiladas and burritos to workers on break.  Local grocery stores and bodegas bustle with business from seasonal workers.

The sounds of the pickers at work are what captivate me this harvest.  I hear their chatter from ladder to ladder in surrounding orchards. Grueling work in often scorching heat does not dampen the animated talk rising above the sounds of music from a portable radio.  Laughter from the orchards punctuates the day. By two o’clock in the afternoon the nine hour day ends before the sun parches the workers, creating more nuanced conversations about which orchards will be picked at five the next morning.

The rhythm of the harvest reflects a micro-ecosystem about food.  The sounds of the cherry pickers have awakened a new awareness into this more expansive ecology.  At the Safeway, Whole Foods or farmers markets in Seattle my surveying of the produce is different. My urban experience of the produce aisle is seen through new lenses.

My spiritual practices about food have begun to shift perceptibly. In preparing any meal I practice giving thanks for the earth, for farmers, for those who’ve brought the food to market and for those who will eat together. It’s less perfunctory than a quick blessing of a meal. It invites mindfulness of being a grateful participant in a wide circle of food.  Harvest has given me new attentiveness.

Cherry harvest conversations among farmers and their team evolve as if in their own growing season. Unexpected summer rainfall created anxious talk about crop damage.  Would the crop be salvageable enough to warrant hiring workers to pick?  Would the crop be left on the trees to rot?  How much are warehouses paying per pound and how much are they discounting for cherries deemed unfit to grace a produce aisle.  All this has given way to grateful, satisfied conversations about a good crop making its way to people’s homes.

A spirituality of feasting always includes expectancy about the conversations that will emerge. In preparing a feast for those beyond our household I think about each guest as I chop, sauté and prepare.  I adore this practice which creates a heart open to the surprise of feasting and talking together.  Cherry harvest has opened a new window into this practice. 

The conversation and worries of the farmers, the image of pickers on ladders with their buckets, the aroma from the taco trucks, the music and conversation from the orchards, the laughter punctuating the air gives me new awareness.  The spirituality of food and feasting is suddenly richer.

The laughter, surprises, conversation and connection around my table remains a gift.  But now it is joined to the rhythm of life of those in orchards and fields producing the many ingredients that contribute to the food.  The liveliness around my table becomes joined to that of people who will remain unknown.  The aisles of the supermarket and even the stands at the farmers market are no longer solely about the item sought.  The produce reminds me of an ecology of connection of which I am a part.  I have an expanded awareness of inter-dependence, of oneness with a circle of people and the earth itself.

The way we approach food and feasting reveals much about our spirit. It reveals even more about mindful gratitude for the oneness of our inter-connection. Food and feasting reveal even more delight and generosity than I had ever imagined.

Share your stories here

Click here to watch Robert’s YouTube conversation – A Spirituality of Food and Feasting.  Or watch it on Robert’s website by clicking here

Combine the beauty of Alaska with food for your spirit and daily life – Join Robert’s cruise this September – click here to learn more.  Space is limited!

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Messing With Nature?

Robert V. Taylor

Low flying helicopters and guns going off have woken me each morning for the last few weeks.  It’s felt like living in a war zone.  This battle is being fought by cherry farmers in Eastern Washington trying to save their crops from rain damage.  Like the unsuccessful battle to halt the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico it is a jarring reminder of the fragility of our connection with the environment.

Unseasonal cold weather and persistent soaking rains have been unexpected visitors in the High Desert of Eastern Washington.  Hay, asparagus and cherry crops have all been affected. At four o’clock each morning for the last several weeks the sound of helicopters hovering over the nearby cherry orchards has startled me.  Their rotator blades create a wind storm intended to blow water off the cherries.  Water collecting where the cherry fruit and its stem meets are what causes the cherries to split open making them unmarketable. As if in defiance of nature, the drone of the copters is a desperate and expensive measure to save what was supposed to be a good crop this year.

Some farmers believe it is worth the effort.  One farmer told me that farming has heightened his respect for the forces of nature and the environment.  He told me that his role is to do the best possible job of the things he can control – like pruning, irrigating and growing organic crops – and that “It’s not possible to mess with nature.” It is a philosophy quite different from those who believe we can control nature.

It is a long journey from the Yakima Valley in Eastern Washington to the Gulf of Mexico and the devastation being wrought from the arrogant and reckless lack of concern for solutions that BP has displayed.  Or is it?

One farmer suggested to me that his decades of growing crops had only intensified his commitment to protecting the resources of the land.  “You love this work and the land and you want to be passing it on for generations to come” he said.  “It’s not about short term gain” he added.  He went on to wonder out loud how the oil covering the waters of the Gulf will affect condensation and therefore impact rainfall thousands of miles away. It was not a stretch for this sporting fisherman to muse about the fragile ecosystem of the ocean waters. 

As he and I stood outside talking on a very atypical wet evening in the High Desert of Washington, he revealed a profound understanding of the fragile ecology of all of life and the environment.  This no-nonsense farmer conveyed a reverence that has come from decades of stewarding the desert earth.  He certainly doesn’t mess with the environment.

The helicopters have stopped their low-flying mission over the cherry orchards because the rains have ceased.  The guns continue to go off, used by farmers trying to scare the birds hungering after the delicacy of cherries.

Gulf Oil Spill

My conversations have made me wonder about the seeming divide that exists between some oil company executives displaying little regard for the ecology of the environment and the people of the Gulf Coast whose livelihoods depend on maintaining that delicate balance.  Or is that a false and cheaply convenient fault line? 

Perhaps the truth is more nuanced.  The “us” and “them” dividing lines that are politically convenient to politicians and environmentalists are not much of a solution.  They might serve a purpose in riling people up over an environmental tragedy.  Even among the cherry farmers working the same High Desert lands there are gradations of opinion on what it means to care for the earth and the crops. 

My farmer friend embodies an innate understanding of the delicate ecology of life of which we are but a part.  The low flying copters and the guns going off in the orchards might be a metaphor for the battle over an ethic of respecting the environment and our part of it. Perhaps that’s the larger question about not messing with the environment?

Share your stories about the environment here

Is the Gulf Oil Spill an Invitation to Experience the Holy in Nature?  Join Robert’s YouTube conversation here

Discover Thomas Berry’s wisdom in The Sacred Universe

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Is Life Better Because of You?

Is life better because of you?  Are you aware of how your own life is better because of others? A blog conversation between Robert V. Taylor and Ginny Hutchinson.  Ginny is the Co- Author, along with Cathy Haffner, of  BETTER BECAUSE OF YOU.

RVT: Since first reading Better Because of You, I have become more mindful about the relationships in my life.  I’ve become intentional in telling someone that my life is better because of them.  Is this what you hoped to create for your readers?

GH: Thank you for sharing how our book has impacted you.  Our hope is that Better Because is a helpful reminder to readers about all seven facets of their life – health, wealth, wisdom, work, play, others & service.  Depending on what areas may need tending or polishing, we’ve found our readers share varying viewpoints.

RVT: You say that the book is about making life “just a little better”.  That’s quite a contrast from the books that promise to change or transforms lives.  Can you say more about what “a little better” means to you?

GH: Cathy & I believe in taking life in small, bite size pieces.  Taking one step at a time and focusing on small  interactions each day, help make life a little better and gradually improve the quality of your life for you and for others.   For example, as a mountain climber, I can easily feel overwhelmed in reaching a high peak.  However, if I break it down into preparation, practice hikes, gradually get stronger climb and keep moving steadily toward the goal, I enjoy not only the view at the top, but the journey along the way.  The same principles apply to life.  

RVT: Was there some circumstance in your lives when you thought of this book with wisdom and hope for ordinary, everyday living?

GH: Cathy & I are self proclaimed “rat racers.”  We’ve enjoyed a tremendous amount of blessings in our lives and both were Fortune 100 executives prior to founding Better Because.  Each of us faced a time in our life when we could have either had – A Mid-Life Crisis or A Mid-Life Awakening.    For me, it was hearing the His Holiness The Dali Lama in Seattle speaking about compassion and action that struck me.  After that moment, I vowed to re-think where I placed importance in my life decided to gain a more balanced approach.  A similar epiphany struck Cathy during a similar timeframe.  As it turns out, we quit our jobs on the same day, and from our long-standing friendship of 25 years, decided seek ways to inspire ourselves and others.

Ginny Hutchinson

RVT: Who was the first person to tell you that their life was better because of you?  How did it impact you?

GH: The first person who mentioned their life was better because of me was my friend, Aaron.  He’s a close and cherished friend and sent me a note immediately after we published our book.  He purchased 25 books and explained how he wanted to spread his appreciation not only to me, but other friends and colleagues in his life.  Since then, Aaron’s bought over 100 books and says he gets more joy back with every book he gives.

RVT: For many people, life is experienced as something to endure or survive.  What would you say to such a person?
 
GH: It pains me to hear this.  My hope is that people see their lives as a sparkling gem.  Not to survive, but to thrive and enjoy.  Life can be difficult, tough at times, and a struggle.  Often these times, make us stronger, wiser, more appreciative.  One of our favorite concepts is ‘the world is in you’  and you can choose to be inspired or not.
 
RVT: Over the years I’ve worked with countless numbers of people who seem stuck in negative energy and a sense that nothing will make their life better.  Your book invites positive energy and is hopeful.  What feeds that good energy and hope in you? 

GH: There are three things that Cathy & I believe help fuel our spirit. Firstly, Happiness is contagious.  Research has proven being around happy people helps you be happy.  It’s that simple.  Second, looking up.  Looking up for us offers a new perspective  – spirituality, faith, hope, Nature, and looking up to people we respect.  Third, sharing Better Because …  stories.  By sharing why you are “better because” with someone else has a tremendous impact for you and them.  Every time I do this with my family, friends, co-workers or students, I literally feel better!

Robert V. Taylor

RVT: As people respond to Better Because of You with stories of their own you are encouraging the art of storytelling and finding meaning and purpose in stories – our own and those of others.  Has there been a story that has surprised you? 

GH: One woman called and purchased a number of copies of our book for her ‘gift closet’.  She planned to give our book to her nearest and dearest girl friends.  A few days after later, she emailed me with a surprising story never expected.  Her son, at college, called to say a close friend of his committed suicide and he devastated.   At a loss for words, she remembered words of wisdom from Better Because of You and shared a poem on Death (page 26) by David Hawkins.  The poem helped them grief together and hear comforting words to help them mourn their loss.  Cathy experienced two sudden deaths of young people in her family.  The section on Death has helped us both cope with losses in our lives.

RVT: What do you hope to still discover about life being better because of others?

GH: One of the stories that surprised me was a high school student who mentioned, “I’m better because of my hardships and struggles.”   I thought this was quite insightful that she’s better because life is hard.  She described recent athletic injuries she faced which were debilitating and how she now views life and her health with more appreciation than ever before.  Remembering that life is a series of circles, spiraling up and down and that feeling down is okay.  The key is to learn from the down or dark periods, which can often lead to higher highs! 

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Ginny Hutchinson & Cathy Haffner

 

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Good for Goodness Sake: A Fool’s Errand or a Way of Life?

Mpho Tutu, Robert V. Taylor & Archbishop Desmond Tutu

A blog conversation between Robert V. Taylor and Mpho Tutu about her new book Made for Goodness: And Why This Makes All the Difference co-authored with her father, Desmond M. Tutu, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate and Archbishop Emeritus of Cape Town. Mpho Tutu is the Executive Director of The Tutu Institute for Prayer and Pilgrimage.

RVT: So many people feel overwhelmed by daily life. What was it that prompted you and your father to write about your belief that we are Made For Goodness?

MT: We wrote with two thoughts in mind: my father is often asked,given his life, what accounts for his joy? In our ministries each of us has encountered people who struggle to make sense of their lives; we wanted to tell the source of my father’s joy. We wanted to share what we have learned of how to make some sense of life, how to hold on to hope, how to be incurably infected with joy.

RVT: I know that individuals often test my core beliefs and practices for daily life.  You write that each day brings an opportunity to practice goodness.  Is there a defining moment for you when you thought, “Yikes! Is goodness possible here?”

MT: No. I never wonder “is goodness possible?” I do wonder “how is goodness possible? What am I not seeing? How can I learn to see rightly that I may act aright.

RVT: Since reading the book I’ve found myself imagining new ways in which goodness can change the world and our daily lives.  Is there an experience which transformed your life choices about goodness?

MT: I would love to be ale to say “one miraculous day I got it and ever after I have been able to live solely out  of the best that is in me” But, for me, goodness, like prayer, is a practice. I must turn often and again to rediscover my best self. There are still days when I argue with my husband, still moments when I snap at my children, still times when I am thoughtless or unkind. I take no joy in those experiences and the joylessness does its own work of transformation.

RVT: Someone recently asked me if it was possible to be good and not have the ability to forgive someone.  What wisdom would you offer that person?

MT: Forgiveness is a gift we give to those who have harmed us. But forgiveness is,first, a gift we give ourselves. It is a gift of healing. We can refuse healing, picking at the wounds to ensure that they fester and grow; we can refuse to forgive, deliberately reanimating the hurt whenever it shows signs of ebbing. We can wish ourselves healed, we can do all the things that promote healing but, ultimately, healing takes grace and time. It is not a matter of goodness or deserving.

RVT: You write that we should stop “being good” and live from our goodness.  So many people beat themselves up for not being “good enough”.  Are their practices that invite a shift from not being “good enough” to living from our goodness?
MT: “Being good” comes with a train of “shoulds” in attendance. It brings few joys in its wake. Living from our goodness crams joy into every corner: not happiness, that thing wreathed in smiles, but true joy the thing ringed around with deep satisfaction. The practices of looking for joy, of living mindfully, of becoming and being self-aware are those that help us to shift from the desperate struggle to be good enough to the true peace of living out of our goodness. It is living from the inside out rather than from the outside in.

RVT: I work with groups exploring the truth of each person being made in the imagination of the Creator.  Is there a way that this imagination infuses the truth that we are made for goodness?

MT: We are made, so scripture says, in the image and likeness of God. God is the very definition of goodness. God engenders goodness. Goodness is the whole imagination of God. We cannot compass or fathom God. Yet each of us contains God, holds God in the center of our being. This Godfulness, this goodness is our defining characteristic.

RVT: When someone lives with negative energy, anger or discrimination directed towards them, what would you say to them?

MT: I do not want to sound flippant. I know that many, many people live in the firing line. They are the targets of violence, oppression, abuse, anger and discrimination. None of us can choose the circumstances of our life. Each of us can choose how to respond to those circumstances. Each of can choose to be a victim or a survivor. Each person makes the choice with each challenge that faces them. For some people the challenges are daily and grinding. For some the challenges are intermittent. But none of us must face any challenge alone. There is a God who stands with us in the fieriest of the furnaces that we face

Robert V. Taylor

RVT: Concepts of goodness, kindness and compassion are consistent themes in many traditions, inviting us into living lives of integrity and wholeness.  Has your own experience been enriched by the wisdom that several traditions speak to?

MT: I have friends of many faiths. They teach me from the wisdom of their traditions. Practices of prayer and fasting and meditation that I have learned from Christian teachers have been enriched by teachings on those subjects by friends of other faiths. The Buddhist practices of mindfulness, the Jewish concept of shalom that encompasses more than peace and reaches out to include wholeness, the Muslim understanding of  Halaal right relationship rather than only  dietary purity these things and  more deepen my understanding of my own faith. They send me home to Christianity with sharpened vision.

RVT: What was your most surprising “wake up” experience of goodness?

MT: In January I co-lead a group on a pilgrimage to South Africa. On one of our first days there we visited a community center in the informal settlement of Kliptown. SKY is a non-profit youth center in the middle of a squalid township. There was an old woman there, a retired nurse, who came each day to prepare breakfast and lunch for children who might not otherwise have a meal. Her face was creased with smile lines. She was leaky with joy. Her warmth spilled over onto anyone within hailing distance. She had found her vocation and standing near her one was infected with the sense of possibility. That is the surprise of goodness, finding and living from our goodness can help other people to find and touch their own goodness.

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Harvey Milk & God Terrified Me

Harvey Milk and God each terrified me.  In that order.  I was a young white anti-apartheid activist in South Africa in the nineteen-seventies.  To be openly gay filled me with more fear than the fight against apartheid.  Yet I knew in my bones that Harvey Milk and anti-apartheid activists were pointing to the same truth about the magnificence of each person.

As a young man I rejected the theological and political notion that apartheid was divinely sanctioned.  It was inconceivable to me that humanity could be denied to another person based on race.  Yet that was the moral and religious justification claimed for a system based on the superiority of whites in South Africa.

My activism was strengthened by the courage of religious leaders like Desmond Tutu. They insisted that God loves every single person.  Equality, justice and human rights were expressions of that love.  As a young man I was certain that our differences were less significant than the oneness of our humanity. Except when it applied to me.  

Learning about Harvey Milk’s election to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977 was shocking news. It seemed impossible to conceive of an openly gay elected official in South Africa where legislation gave impunity to the police to act against LGBT people.

I was a candidate for ordination to the Anglican priesthood in South Africa in the nineteen seventies.   I’d witnessed the witch hunt conducted by the church against gay seminarians.  I used to go to Mass each day to get on my knees to plead for God to change me; to take away my sexual orientation. 

Following Harvey Milk’s assassination in 1978 I experienced an epiphany.  If God had no use for hatred and exclusion based on race, surely the same was true about sexual orientation.  The truth of this filled me with terror.  Was Harvey Milk’s courage an invitation for all LGBT people everywhere to stop pleading to be changed?

The possibility of Harvey Milk and God offering an invitation to get up off our knees was an exhilarating truth.  It would take me years to live fully into that liberating notion of becoming fully human.  In the process I discovered that the root word for courage is the same word for love.  Maybe Tutu was correct that the Holy loved all people without condition. I imagined God smiling on Milk’s courage.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Mpho Tutu & Robert V. Taylor

Fifteen years later I asked Desmond Tutu when he would add LGBT people into his compelling vision that we are all “made for oneness.” He assured me that it would be after the fall of apartheid.  This iconic leader has been true to his word.  To the ire of many and the delight of others, Tutu is insistent that there are no outsiders with God or the human family. 

The shadow side of Milk’s invitation to courage was violence.  To be physically harmed or killed because of who you are is not something that most people seek.  My experience of threats directed against me over the years because of my openness as a gay man remind me that we have a long way to go in the United States before LGBT people know that we are viewed as outsiders.

But Harvey Milk’s life continues to have a ripple effect.  The young videographer who recently filmed me for a Seattle Men’s Chorus video unexpectedly told me that I’d been a hero of his.  I could not imagine why.  He said that as a high school student my prominence as an openly gay leader had given him courage in grappling with his own sexuality.  It was a simple moment.  In every encounter like that one I give thanks for the courage of people like Harvey Milk.  A young millennial man took for granted his ability to be open about his identity.  It seemed like reason enough to celebrate!

In the rural farming community of Eastern Washington where my partner and I spend time, we know that the politics is not as progressive as it is in cities like Seattle or New York.  But we hear the stories of families who accept, love and include their LGBT members.  For these families it is not a struggle, but a given.  I imagine Harvey Milk and God smiling on such inclusion.

The terror that Harvey Milk and God instilled in me have long dissipated.    Terror has made way for courage.  My own experience of exclusion is a reminder that it is dangerous to dismiss or exclude any person or group of people.  Harvey Milk’s courage is an invitation to celebrate oneness with our own self and others.

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What in God’s Name…? The Thin Place

Andrew Russell

Andrew Russell

A blog conversation between Robert V. Taylor and Andrew Russell about the world premiere of a play in which Robert is one of the characters.

Andrew Russell is the Conceiver/Director of The Thin Place and Associate Director of the Intiman Theater.   He has worked with Tony Kushner.  Andrew’s credits include directing for Jazz at Lincoln Center, the Public Theater and the Sundance Theater Laboratory. He was assistant director to Kate Whoriskey for the premiere of Ruined and The Miracle Worker on Broadway.   

RVT: The Thin Place is an intriguing title for the play you have conceived!  In Celtic and other traditions the thin places are those borderlands where human life, the Holy and creation meet.  They are openings into new insight.  How does The Thin Place offer such an opening?

AR: We’ve interviewed over a dozen individuals of varying faiths who have encountered their own deeply personal Thin Place. What’s interesting is that the borderlands where human life and the holy meet, as you put it, aren’t always places of grace or bliss. As you’ll see in the play, encountering your version of the divine can be rough, complicated, frustrating and difficult to endure — but often it’s because of this complex journey that one is able to arrive and embrace one’s own Thin Place. We’ve also expanded on the traditional definition of this term. In our play the term can also mean the specific moment when someone’s belief enters a very thin and fragile state, or the moment someone reaches awe-inspiring bliss within their mind. Our hope is that by sharing all of these real stories in one play, we will create an actual Thin Place in the theatre where audience members will be able to step outside their comfort zone, consider things slightly differently, and potentially rethink their opinion of themselves and others. It’s funny that you refer to this idea as that of an “opening” because in one of the final lines of the play the central character references this idea — and talks about how all of these perspectives and voices he’s encountered from Seattle’s community create a new opening for him, a dawning awareness.  

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

RVT: What sparked something in you to conceive of this play?

AR: I’ve always had a complex, and often frustrating, relationship with the idea of faith and religion and was fascinated with Seattle’s rumored pride in being “Godless” or “one of the least churched cities in the country.” Kate Whoriskey (the new Artistic Director at Intiman) and I listened to Dan Savage’s podcast on This American Life about his fraught relationship with the Catholic Church after his mother died, and became curious about exploring the depth of faith in Seattle. I worked briefly on a film called Questioning Faith with director Macky Alston and producer Leonard Cox many years ago and Macky’s quest to question God’s presence after losing a friend from AIDS stuck with me — and this also influenced our quest to explore the subject. We were also looking for a project that embraced Seattle and acknowledged something special about the city — its open- mindedness and unique spirituality. Personally I’ve been very moved and enlightened by this process, and consider my outlook on God and faith, and those who believe deeply in any form of dogma, to have matured. 

RVT: The ads for the play ask the provocative question, “What in God’s name is Seattle thinking?”  It’s been said that the Cathedral of the Pacific Northwest is the splendor of the environment.  Have you been struck by unique expressions of the spiritual quest in the Northwest?

AR: I grew up in the mid-west where church attendance is incredibly common. When one moves to a new city the first thing they’re often asked is “have you found a church” or “would you like to go to church with me?” When I first came to Seattle to start work on this project I began to ask people where they went to church, and the responses were more along the lines of “I don’t go to church,” “I’m spiritual,” or “we don’t really go to church much in Seattle.” But, I’ve also listened to many stories about the power of faith in this region. There’s this deep hunger for the truth, or a personal truth rather, in this area and it seems to result in a diverse and very authentic group of people. People seem less interested in conforming to something that exists and more interested in exploring, questing, and discovering a path of their own. This manifests itself on stage in The Thin Place, as all of our characters are on a religious and spiritual journey yes, but they are also simply searching to find their voice, their identity. 

RVT: The number of Americans describing themselves as spiritual rather than religious keeps increasing.  It’s around 25% of the population now.  Does The Thin Place offer a way for people anywhere to engage in conversations about the nexus of spirituality, meaning and purpose?

AR: We’ve had an outreach team that’s been visiting many different religious institutions over the past weeks and through this process we’ve realized how interested religious (and non-religious) communities are in the subject of our play. I should also say that we’ve got a website called TheThinPlace.com, which was constructed so that people can share their own stories of journeys to and from The Thin Place. Also, we will keep the bar open every night after the show’s opening performance for a post-play discussion and conversation.

The goal is that we continue the conversation that is already naturally percolating in this city onto the stage, and that the conversation continues after — even more intensified.  We feature personal stories from individuals from very different backgrounds — varying religions, ages, sexes, races, sexualities — and in the end our main character embraces these diverse stories as his new power, his opening, his own voice. There’s a lot that happens — and therefore a lot to discuss! 

RVT: The play weaves the stories of ordinary people talking about defining moments that have shaped their spiritual journey.  How did you think about whose stories to include, and why?

Sonya Schneider

Sonya Schneider

AR: We wanted to include as diverse a group as possible, and so we set out with simply that mission in mind. And, we wanted everyone to be from Seattle. Then we layered in the need to find individuals who have questioned, confronted or discovered their faith, and who have been through their own personal struggle. Through speaking with Board members, friends, churches and organizations the stories started to trickle in. Then Marcie Sillman of KUOW interviewed over 15 people and we handed those raw transcripts over to playwright Sonya Schneider who has sculpted them into the story that’s onstage now.  

RVT: The Thin Place invites people into the practice of telling the stories that have shaped and formed each of our lives.  It becomes an invitation to engage in story-telling and see the sacred in our own stories.  Will this be a shocking revelation to audiences? 

AR: Theatre, much like church, has the ability to remind people that their lives are sacred, that there is a deep meaning to their being on earth. A group of people in a dark room, listening to a story, becomes a very sacred and beautiful event. Theatre asks people to reexamine their version of normal, and asks them to look at their life (and the lives of others) through a different frame. Will this be shocking? I don’t know. But, I do hope it will act as a reminder that the depth and texture in our lives is incredible — sometimes we just have to look a little deeper and listen to ourselves. It has been very moving to hear the responses from the people we interviewed — they’ve all read the script — they have had reactions that might verge on shocked. They’ve commented on how well we’ve crafted their story, or how exciting we’ve made it, or how they cannot wait to see it on stage. This gives me goose-bumps because meanwhile I’m thinking “You can’t wait to see it on stage? I can’t wait to meet you. This is your story, this is your truth — that’s even more profound.” Theatre is as real as the people that make it.  

RVT: One of the characters in the play says that her religion was hijacked by terrorists.  I often hear similar comments from people who feel that institutional religion hijacks the essence of a spiritual message.  Is this something that the play sheds light on? 

AR: Well, yes, but it should be clear that the play is merely an examination of a lot of real personal stories, and we are only reflecting those stories back to an audience. So in that way yes, almost each of these stories touches on the idea that an institution can interrupt one’s personal quest. There is also a great deal of questioning authority, which is something I think is very interesting. Whether it is religion or any belief or organized life system, I think people should question authority and really examine what it is they’re told to believe. If something is that meaningful and filled with truth, shouldn’t it be able to withstand the scrutiny? 

RVT: What have been your greatest surprises in taking this play from conception to the stage?

Gbenga Akinnagbe

Gabenga Akinnagbe

AR: Working with Gbenga Akinnagbe has changed the evolution of the process in an exciting way. He’s an incredible actor and he brings an energy and charm to the stage that is essential in carrying a 90 minute show with one actor. Sonya has sculpted the show with him in mind, and we’ve weaved the stories around a protagonist (based on one of the real interviews, someone going through their own current Thin Place) who encounters all of the other people we interviewed. This evolution of plot and construct for the story was a big surprise and healthy shift. Also, we’ve been working with Donald Byrd as a choreography/movement consultant and that has made for all sorts of surprising and insightful moments in the play.

I’m also surprised, and moved, at how much the “real” people have embraced this story. I thought they might be shy or be skeptical but they’ve all come forward and participated in outreach, and some have agreed to have their photos in the program and most of them will be at opening night. 

RVT: How has The Thin Place shifted or affected how you think of the spiritual and everyday life?

Honestly, it has had a profound effect. I look at people on the street and think how each of us has a story that is deep and worth exploring on stage. Deeper than that, I’ve become less rigid in my fundamentalism as an atheist. I realize that fundamentalism of any belief system is dangerous and one must always take in and consider everything else being experienced in the world. I’ve also enjoyed researching the history of religion, and that’s put everything in a new context for me. Much of the debate about God and Faith and Religion (I use capital letters on all those because they become loaded words very quickly) is really a debate about definitions. We use different words and prayers to explain and explore the same things, and different stories to make similar points, but we embrace the notion that our worlds are so incredibly divergent. I challenge that they aren’t.

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