Friday
The grass crunched underfoot. The late November sky was clear and the temperature was dropping rapidly as the first stars appeared.
I felt tired after a busy and stressful week, unsure whether I could summon the energy to enter a group of strangers or embark on a weekend training course. It had seemed a great idea when I’d signed up for Advanced Circle Facilitation but now it came to it I realised I couldn’t remember much from the first course and I wasn’t actually sure I wanted to spend my whole weekend training. I hung around the kitchen area, making myself a cup of tea, staying close to Heidi who I knew and clutching the warmth of my mug, hoping it would give me strength.
It was a relief to discover we wouldn’t be holding our circle outside around the fire but inside a yurt. I made my way carefully across the sloping grass from the kitchen area, heading towards the warm yellow light coming through the door of the yurt. It quite took my breath away as I stepped inside. It was beautiful. There was a cheerful woodburner blazing away at one end filling the room with warmth. A sacred altar of natural objects had been created in the centre of the room, surrounded by a circle of ‘backjack’ seats and cushions. Lanterns, fairylights and candles completed the magical picture. I felt myself exhale.
We began the weekend by sharing our names and a bit about ourselves. We played games – using our bodies to express how we were feeling. I laughed nervously and exhaled a little more. We moved around the space, stopping and speaking to people we met along the way, sharing snippets of information. Once we were warmed up, we began our first council (another name for ‘circle practice’). We were invited to share stories of a time that someone really made a difference to us. For me, that someone was actually sitting across the circle from me. I spoke about how Heidi had sat with me earlier that week when I was feeling in a place of despair. I hadn’t known I needed that connection until she offered it to me and it had made a big difference – so much so that it was the first thing that came to my mind when we were given the prompt. I hoped she wasn’t embarrassed by my sharing. I wondered, too, whether people might feel awkward as I shared just how raw I was feeling. I didn’t meet anyone’s eye but stared ahead into the circle.
There is something wonderful and heart-warming about listening to people sharing authentically in response to a question or prompt. Only the person holding the talking piece is permitted to speak while everyone else gives their full attention. What is expressed is personal and meaningful, but also succinct and to-the-point. The focus is on sharing stories and experiences rather than thoughts or opinions. I like that. I get tired of hearing opinions expressed forcefully at every turn. It tends to make me withdraw into myself and not want to reveal anything that I think or feel.
By contrast, sharing in circle very quickly creates a sense of connection and a feeling of safety. Although I’d come feeling quite raw and vulnerable after a difficult week, I found myself able to share with an open heart despite my insecurities.
It was only 8.30pm when we finished, but it felt much later as it had been dark for several hours already and it was really cold. The location was pretty remote and it felt quite a challenge to navigate the narrow winding Devon lanes in the pitch dark. I had to keep telling myself “It’s OK” and felt relieved when I got home and made a cup of tea.
Saturday
The first full day of the course – Saturday - was marked by the arrival of Storm Bert which brought high winds and heavy rain. The storm had prompted a change of venue as it was felt that it would be hard to hear clearly inside the yurt in such conditions. The new location – an octagonal building on land occupied by a group of people including the facilitator, Sam – had only been completed hours before and the exterior was still unfinished.
The octagon was a fantastic space for our circle – larger than the yurt and more substantial, enabling us to hear over the storm raging outside. And it certainly was raging. Rain was lashing against the windows and the branches of the trees were being flung around by the gale. As we were introduced to the different forms of circle, I was surprised by how many varieties there are. I supposed I’d just assumed a circle was a circle – a group of people around a fire sharing stories and experiences. But there is more to it than that.
We were introduced to the ‘fishbowl’ form, where there is a smaller circle in the centre with people sharing together and being witnessed by a larger circle of people around the outside. There is the spiral form, where one person gets up and leaves the circle after the person next to them finishes sharing. As each person leaves the circle, a new person joins. There is the diad form – where two people share, either with a witness or a cushion that can represent the relationship between these two people. I really liked that idea as a way to navigate the complexities of a relationship.
Then there was my favourite circle of the weekend – a circle for conflict resolution. I could see the transformative potential of this form immediately. Each of the two people who are in conflict has an advocate. The people in conflict take it in turns to speak. After each one speaks, their advocate reflects what they heard and the other person in the conflict is invited to respond. We watched a demonstration of this in action and I could immediately see how the presence of the advocates softened the interaction and brought a fresh perspective to the situation. I would love to use this practice in my own conflicts but I’d also like to try out how it might work in helping resolve other conflicts (there are so many in the world right now).
One of the most moving moments of the day was a circle during which people spoke about a time when they showed up fully as themselves.
Agata came and did a session with us about presence – what it is, what it means to have presence and what can get in the way. We worked for part of the day in pairs. I worked with a long woman, who I’d seen before but never really spoken to. She was delightful – a different generation to me and there was something particularly wonderful about that. It was interesting how similar our responses were when asked what sort of things get in the way of us being fully present – all the usual stuff like anxiety, distraction, lack of confidence… Despite the decades between us, the challenges are very much the same.
I felt tired and sleepy as the day wore on. My brain felt jaded from concentrating. The storm continued to rage outside, while inside it was warm from the woodburner which added to my sleepiness. At one point Heidi asked us – in our pairs – ‘what do you need right now?’ She told us to identify what we needed and to ask for it. I realised I needed some fresh air and to gaze at the outdoor pool. My partner needed to dance and spin on the slippery wooden floor of the octagon. So we did both. I’d never have thought that spinning around in a flowing dress would be so much fun. And after that we lay with our legs up the wall, chatting about the experience. It was truly lovely.
Sunday
The final day of the course and, unbelievably, Storm Bert had intensified. Four of our group were unable to get to the venue – which was The Glade near Dartington – due to the weather conditions. It felt a bit sad that I wouldn’t be able to work with the two who were in my group for circle practice. I’d driven up from Plymouth and found the A38 pretty hair-raising – lots of standing water, high winds and poor visibility. I messaged to say I’d be late due to all the flooding around the city but, actually, I was the first one to arrive. The rain didn’t let up all day and there were high winds bending the tree branches and flinging the leaves onto the ground. The drama of it somehow added to the intensity of the experience and has cemented the memories very firmly in my mind.
Rather than the three circles that had been planned, we held two, both because we were fewer in number but also so that people would be able to leave and drive home in daylight rather than in the dark.
I found it pretty stressful to plan the circle in our group of four. We had very little time to do so and it was not ideal collaborating in this way. I am used to working alone so collaborating always presents a challenge to me and collaborating under time pressure felt particularly intense. I chose to take on the witness role in our circle, with another as the host, another as the guide and yet another as the guardian. As our prompt we chose “Share what brings you joy and gives life meaning”. At first I was in a very negative state of mind. I could only think of things that felt quite meaningless and mundane in life and wondered whether to share my general disenchantment with life as I groped around for something more inspiring. But, listening to other’s stories, I was reminded of an encounter with a wild dolphin near Elberry Cove. I recounted my story with relief and listened to the others as they shared theirs.
Rather than purely witnessing the process as it was unfolding, Heidi fed back to me that what I did was to “harvest” what was shared. I wrote down the essence of people’s experiences and then identified some themes. A great way to find topics for prompts for future circles. People spoke about experiencing the magic of the elements (dancing in the rain, swimming in cold sea, a bonfire on a cold dark night); feeling a rush of fear and adrenaline which lit them up, feeling their heart beat faster which made them feel alive; experiencing nature connection and feeling connected to the landscape and the woods; also encounters with animals, both alive and dead. It felt particularly poignant that I was witnessing this circle as a question I have had in my mind for many years now is “what does it mean to live?” It has preoccupied me and, at times, I’ve found life to be pretty meaningless and uninspiring, weighed down by too much responsibility and cowed by adversity. It was really good for me to discover how others find meaning in their lives – and it is not in any kind of material things, external measures of success or grand achievements. Interesting to note that. Maybe I’ve been looking in all the wrong places and it’s actually much easier than I thought.
The second circle was a Circle of All Beings. We were invited to connect, initially, with the essence of slug and move around the space as slugs, before all coming together in a soup of sluggish slime. There was much laughter as we all pretended to be glued together by our sticky slug trails. Then we were invited to step into the persona of something from nature – people became the river, lichen, a fox, a raven. I became a tawny owl. Afterwards I wished I’d chosen something else because it reminded me of a painful experience and I was distracted by that. We sat in circle together, each representing our different species. Then we spoke about how it feels to be that creature, what we are grateful for and what we want humans to know. Many of the responses were very poetic but interestingly, of all the circles that weekend, this one resonated the least with me. I was surprised by that because it was the circle I was most excited to participate in. But, although it was creative and insightful, for me it felt less authentic than the circles where I am speaking and listening to their humans in their raw, unpolished human state. Just my opinion. I could tell that other people loved it.
As the day came to a close, we shared memories and impressions of the weekend and expressed gratitude for what we were taking from the training. We also shared our intentions for what we would most like to take forward. For me there were two things: I want to continue my exploration of what it means to live, inspired by the sort of things people shared; and I would love to practice holding circles for conflict as there is so much of it in the world and this has the power to transform it, in my opinion.
I started the weekend in a very raw and emotionally wobbly state. I am ending it feeling much quieter, calmer and more inspired. I am very grateful to have spent this time with a group of lovely heart-centred people and discovered more about the powerful practice of holding council. It was made all the more special by the wild storm that raged around us as we listened and shared and learned. I will probably remember Storm Bert for the remainder of my life.
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