In my last post "Responsibility: Where does Gandhi's Steer Take you?", I asked the question: What is compassion? I asked this because living the change I want to see means being a compassionate person. I want to see, give, and experience more compassion in the world. As a practicing mediator, I think about compassion a lot. The other day I found myself talking with a fellow mediator - Jack -  about compassion and hit on something I had not seen so clearly before: the connection between compassion and invisibility.  I am a woman very occupied by the importance of seeing our selves and allowing ourselves to see and be seen by others. And now I recognize more clearly that compassion is all about seeing and being seen.   

Compassion is a word that needs to be reclaimed. It feels as though to many it is a dirty word. Firstly, compassion often is equated with pity, which in turn is linked to a sense of superiority. But compassion is not pity and it does quite the opposite of creating a sense of superior and inferior: compassion connects us as equal human beings.  Secondly, compassion became political with the idea of  'Compassionate Conservatism' and Cameron's 'Hug a Hoodie' call to action back in 2007. This was a shame because we definitely need more compassion to be woven into politics. What we don't need, however, is politics being woven into compassion - because then the latter simply disintegrates. And what Cameron did felt more like the latter than the former.

My fellow mediator, Jack, is well-versed in Buddhist teachings and is a very compassionate individual. On Saturday he was showing me compassion - doing a lot of empathic listening as I stood before him in tears describing what was alive in me with regards to something which had been unsettling me for the past two weeks.  Later, Jack would tell me that he really appreciated getting to know me better through that exchange. I was aware that I had allowed myself to show my vulnerabilty to someone I didn't really know that well - but knew enough to know he has a very gentle, open spirit. I felt safe in allowing my doubting, judgemental, upset self be visible to him. Receiving his compassion required that I allow him to see me- and I let that happen.

Jack also commented on how he had enjoyed getting to know me by seeing me at work - in my professional element.  On Saturday we had been out and about door knocking for some work we are doing together. At one point, Jack and I - along with a third mediator - were talking with a group of sixteen year old boys. I asked them : "Do you carry knives?" This seemed to offend some of them, but it was a legitimate question in the context. They all wanted to make it clear that they didn't carry knives and weren't interested in violence. In response to this exchange, I found myself asking them about they how they imagined other people see them and if they thought people were seeing them as they would like to be seen. 

Jack was seeing me. And I was also seeing myself - personally and professionally. As Jack listened to me empathically, I repeatedly would see myself in new ways - see what was beneath the tears, the anger, the frustration - what beliefs I am carrying that are weighing me down and feeding destructive tendencies (a good empathic listener can be a mirror to one's soul). Similarly, though not as deeply, Jack saw that I was trying to see those sixteen-year old boys and similarly hold a mirror up to them so they could see their selves. 

And what Jack and I discussed as we reflected on all this 'seeing' is that compassion involves helping people to see for our selves and show to others what we often keep hidden - render invisible, stashed away out of sight.  And what is at the heart of compassion is the idea that what we see in others is no more that what is in us. We connect to what we are seeing in someone else because it is familiar. We all know what it is to feel sad, angry, hurt, frustated. We all know what it is to lose trust and to fear. We all know how it feels to be invisible. The details of the experiences which give us such wisdom/insight will differ. Yet, the feelings are the same. 

The more we are able to see our selves, the more we are able to see others. This is one reason why self-reflection has such an important role to play in social change - if we are not visible to our selves, then we will have a hard time not only seeing others clearly but it will be challenging to see and connect with each other compassionately. For example, we might meet someone who has been bullying people and judge them for being a bully, for hurting others. We are likely to be angry with them, even feel hate. If, however, we have an awareness of the bully within - the part of us that we know is capable of being and has at times been, the bully - we can then find compassion in how we connect with that person. This does not mean we go 'soft' and let people get away with harmful behaviour, give them excuses. It means we respond in a restorative way - in a way that is intended to contribute to healing, to connecting with each other as one vulnerable human being to another. 

Compassion is about seeing self in other and other in self - melting down the binary of self and other. Let us reclaim compassion for what it is: our human capacity to connect with one another out of a desire to alleviate suffering because we all know what it is to suffer and what is to desire joy. In that way, we are all equal.  Writing this post makes me wonder how much of himself could David Cameron see in those 'hoodies' he wanted people to hug? And what are the different forms a 'hug' can take? For example, how comfortable would he feel letting the young people he and others call 'hoodies know how much they have in common? How comfortable would he be to listen empathically to the stories of these young people'?  This includes stories of destructive behaviour which I would say aren't about bad people but are about bad choices. And we've all made bad choices.

This post is also making me think about how (un)comfortable people generally feel with the idea of compassion - because a lot of people across the political spectrum let out a nervous laugh in response to Cameron's 'Hug a hoodie' call to action. Sure, in some ways it deserved some sniggering. Yet, at the same time, I can't help but think Cameron was on to something quite meaningful, albeit perhaps quite unconsciously and perhaps not so strongly rooted in true compassion. Unfortunately, in the political realm, we tend not to talk about compassion openly and honestly. We see it as a touchy-feely matter, not for serious deliberation. This is despite the fact that we often hear politicians say they would like to create more caring communities. Well, if we are going to do that, we need to create more compassionate communities.

When you are doing your work to help others, how much of them can you see in you and vis-versa?  What exactly does being compassionate mean for you? How compassionate are you being - with your self and those you are trying to support? How could you be more compassionate? What do you fear about being more compassionate?

Every year since 2007, a friend and I have created themes for the year. I’ve declared 2012 my Year of Responsibility and Service.  It isn’t witty, sexy, or funny. And it can be, I’ve found, a bit of a conversation stopper. Twenty-Eleven was Year of Abundance and Faith. When it would come up in conversation people tended to be curious, ask questions and consider what their own theme might be. In contrast, Year of Responsibility and Service renders people silent and – I get the impression – uncomfortable. If I’m talking with social change colleagues, I tend to move the conversation along by laughing and remarking: “I know, I know – it sounds so  Big Society.“ But Big Society was not the inspiration for the theme. Rather, my time spent at a Vipassana meditation course in November 2011 led me to this year’s theme.  What’s the purpose of the theme? I use my yearly themes as a point of focus. Throughout 2012, I will reflect regularly on the significance of responsibility and service to my life – to my well-being, to my relationships with others, to both my social and professional activities and commitments.  Today, I’m reflecting broadly on responsibility and social change. 

Back in the nineties, when I was working to promote the Human Rights Act and influence its implementation, I was frustrated with the language of responsibility. I was frustrated because it was being used in the phrase ‘rights and responsibilities’ with politicians and officials constantly talking about Joe/Jan public having responsibilities alongside having rights. I detested this language because I felt that it was distracting from the real issue: the government’s responsibility to secure people’s human rights (no, not citizens – this is the beauty of human rights, they are not linked with our passport identities).  

Some fifteen years later, I am still not a fan of the phrase ‘rights and responsibilities’ – but I’m much more interested to talk about responsibility and not simply with regards to government action. Passionate about contributing to social change with an aim to creating more caring, creative and collaborative communities, I now want to talk – get excited by it, in fact - about the responsibilities we all have to this end.

Invariably, when I think about responsibility in this context I come back to the Gandhi quote: “We must become the change we want to see in the world.”

On a day-to-day basis, what exactly does that mean? We say it a lot, but what of it?

Well, the key to the change I want to see in the world won’t be found in policy documents – though I have some ideas on what kind of policies might make the world a better place. The change I want to see in the world distills down to human relationships – human relationships which are nurturing, supportive, expansive, compassionate, creative.

If I follow Gandhi’s steer, then I must accept that I am responsible for bringing these traits to life in me. Again, what does that mean on a day-to-day basis? Well, to try and capture that would make this a very long post. But I’ll start with the idea that it means constantly reflecting on how I move through the world - particularly on how I am interacting with others, from a stranger on the street to my mom and dad.  It means exploring what each of those traits means to me in practice:

·      How do I nurture and what am I nurturing?

·      How do I create and what am I creating?

·      What does compassion look like?

·      How do I support others and what am I supporting them to do?

·      How do I relate to people in ways that are expansive rather than constraining?

What does Gandhi’s oft-repeated steer mean to you on a day-to-day basis? What responsibilities do you claim when it comes to social change?

This week, I'm going to let Researcher Brene Brown do the talking.....via a TED talk "The power of vulnerability"

Last day of 2011 and I’m here in the Chicago suburbs, writing in the house where I grew up.  Coming here was unexpected; I booked the ticket a few days before Christmas to arrive on Boxing Day and surprise my parents (they were delightfully surprised, by the way). For the first time, I hopped on a trans-Atlantic flight without checking in bags. It is a short trip – tomorrow I return to London. I therefore don’t need much and it has been a minimal-baggage journey.

I say all this because on this last day of the year, I’m thinking about what we carry with us as we move through the world. I'm asking the question: What are we carrying and how is it impacting on our work in social change?'

In years to come, when I reflect on 2011, I imagine I will firstly think of it as the year where I lived free from anxiety. My last anxiety attack was in October 2010.  My battle with anxiety has been an on-going one, lasting at least twenty years. Never mind why it managed to stay around for so long  (that’s another post – if not a book!). The point is that over the years, driven by constant anxiety, I’ve thought, spoke and acted in destructive and struggle-inducing ways.  

What’s it is like to go about your days with anxiety flowing through your veins?  Well, for starters, sometimes I wasn’t even aware that I was anxious. It is only with hindsight that I can see how I was  – and the implications of it.  Because some days it was just a low steady flow. Chronic anxiety is akin to chronic pain – you can live with it, and it can become so much a part of you, you don’t notice it is there (and its impact on you) until something happens and it decides to surge. Then you think ‘Oh my God, I’m in pain!’ as if it is something new, special, of the moment. When it’s really only a significant increase of what’s been alive in, and influencing you, all along.

Whether I was aware or not, I used to move through the world carrying unhealthy levels of fear and nervousness, which negatively impacted on my professional and social lives. The impact  varied from situation to situation and this isn’t the space to go into detail about how chronic anxiety works.  However, I'll share an example, to give you a general sense of it.

A number of years ago when I was a senior policy advisor in central government, I had a period of severe anxiety. I was going into work a bundle of nerves, very quick to snap. During that time, I had one high-level meeting where – I would later find out – I offended most of the people in the room by being aggressive. This of course meant that people focused less on what I had to say and more on how I was saying it. Perhaps you can imagine it. You’ve got that fear and anxious energy jumping about inside you – so you are in flight or fight mode. You are very scared. When someone says something that even vaguely pushes a button, you growl, hiss, jump at them.  

One day during this time, a colleague and friend overheard a phone conversation I was having while at the desk next to her. She heard me being very short and abrupt with a consultant doing a really important project for us (and, notably, doing it rather well). She said something to me about what she had witnessed and suggested I take some time out to give attention to whatever was going in inside me. In the thick of it, I wasn’t seeing how I was I behaving. Even if I had some awareness, I was so entangled in the arms of anxiety that I didn’t have the wherewithal to think ‘This isn’t right, this isn’t me, and its destructive’ and then consider how I might extricate myself.

For two decades, the anxiety was impacting my professional and social relationships - to varying degrees. Sometimes, I am sure I had periods where people around might not have had any sense of what was going on in side me. Sometimes, it was impacting in little, on-going ways that people probably noticed, but didn't give much thought to. Sometimes, like in the example above, it was having fairly obvious and significant impacts - and people were definitely noticing. Regardless of the degree, most significantly, chronic anxiety meant I was often moving through the world dis-connected from, and less connected with, my creative and compassionate self – two intrinsic resources I value greatly, professionally and socially.

Driven by anxiety, constantly carrying around a lot of fear, I wasn’t serving my self and others to the best of my ability and capacity.

This past year, not only have there been no anxiety attacks, but I’ve generally been moving through the world on a day-to-day basis driven by a much more steady flow of calmness. People around me have noticed the difference. And I’ve noticed the difference. These days, for example, I can sense when I’m feeling anxious – it isn’t the norm, it is the exception. When it arises in me at low levels, it is like a pebble thrown into a still pond; I notice it.  [Note: I must be clear here – anxiety/fear can serve very useful purposes in life. I’m not expecting to banish them from my life – and I’m not saying I have done so. An ‘anxiety-free year’ means I’ve been experiencing healthy levels and forms of anxiety/fear.] Most significantly, I am now much more connected with my creative and compassionate self – I am serving my self and others more meaningfully than I ever have been.

I’m entering 2012 giving a lot of attention to the question of what I carry with me as I move through the world – moment by moment.  Reflections on years of being anxiety-ridden illuminate for me the reality that what I bring with me (large and small) affects what I give to/share with/take from others - intentionally or not. What I bring with me can expand or contract my capacity to be guided constructively by my values and do what I believe I’m here to do: support my self and others to live a life rooted in truth and dignity.

Reflect. See. Be aware. Expand. Repeat....

What are you carrying with you as you move through the world? What can you see when you self-reflect? What types of awareness would help you to be the creative change force you can/want to be?

 Wishing you an expansive 2012!

Last night, I went to a performance at the Roundhouse: Unprovoked. The play was created through the work of The Forgiveness Project. The play tells the story of the knife-murder of a fifteen-year old girl by an eighteen-year old girl and how it is that the mother (Mary Folely) of the victim has forgiven the girl who killed her daughter. We had the privilege of being joined afterwards by Mary in a Q&A session. Not surprisingly, I think, the Q&A focused equally on understanding Mary’s journey to forgiveness alongside exploring how young people become subsumed by violence and destruction.  Mary, through the Forgiveness Project, is very active in giving talks at prisons, particularly those filled with young offenders. I concluded the evening with two ideas dominating my brainwaves: (1) at the heart of forgiveness is freedom (2) too many people in our society – of all ages - are feeling unheard and unseen and a critical a consequence of this is violence and destruction in big and small forms, directed inwards and outwards.

For this post, I’m going to focus on the first idea. In particular, I’m thinking about it in the context of social change and activism.

To some people, forgiveness is a somehow an act of weakness, a ‘giving in’ to someone who has caused harm to you – a ‘they win’ outcome. In the play, Mary’s character (and she said this herself after the performance) eloquently describes how the anger she felt towards her daughter’s killer, Beatriz, was changing her. She was becoming a type of person her daughter would not have liked and in some ways, she suggests, she was becoming little different from someone who kills – at least in her thoughts. She would consider what could happen to Beatriz in prison – how punishment might be inflicted on the girl. She distanced herself from her children and her husband. The on-going harsh and disconnecting thoughts and behaviours she was experiencing in her self were allowing one death in their family to turn into two.

Alongside Mary’s increasing discomfort with how she was being in her self and in the world, forgiveness popped into her head and heart. The first time it made an appearance, she quickly dismissed it. Then she starting allowing it to hang around a bit longer each time it came. Finally, one day, she embraced it and chose it as an action. She described to us how in doing so, she felt that a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.  Now Mary dedicates time and energy to turning her family’s tragedy into a learning tool – into a tool that can hopefully also lift heavy burdens from the lives of others – particularly young people who have committed violent crimes.

I think of Mary and I think courage. Yet, something in our society discourages people from forgiveness; as I’ve already said, some people see it as a weakness. But that isn’t all that is going on in the arguments against forgiveness.

Anger is powerful.

Anger usually tries to steer us away from forgiveness – wanting to protect itself and to grow and thrive, anger must keep forgiveness at bay. Anger heats us up, it can help shift us from feeling like vulnerable victims to empowered protagonists, it energises us. Anger can seem like a strong, reliable, protective friend.

At first glance all this sounds positive – anger as a valuable asset. And it is in this way that anger fuels the day –to-day movement of many social activists.

Anger. ANGER!

Mary chose forgiveness because it helped her to return to feeling whole and to connecting fully with her compassionate humanity.  We briefly touched upon the idea that forgiveness is often made possible because the perpetrator of harm has shown remorse and regret.  What if someone doesn’t even see that they have done anything wrong, let alone show remorse? In such a situation can we forgive?

I ask this, because often we social activists find ourselves in situations where we are angry because we feel we aren’t be heard or respected. We feel that, for example, policymakers are ignoring our needs. It is the sense of injustice that often keeps us going day in and day out and often under rather trying circumstances. We have no one to forgive because no one seems to be taking responsibility for what it is that we feel is harming us. But what we do have is anger, raging inside us. 

Mary is taking an active part in creating social change without anger – and this seems inextricably tied to her choice to forgive.  Her story has me wondering: What role might forgiveness have to play in social activism? Can we be credible and effective if we aren’t driven by anger? What does social activism rooted in compassion look like? 

Mary is a strong, powerful force.  I think of her, and I’m inclined to think that anger can be a valuable and perhaps necessary catalyst for change – it is what fires us up and it is a natural response to injustice – but then we would serve ourselves well to shift anger into another energy, into another type of fuel, one that keeps us more deeply connected with the truth of who we can be as human beings – compassionate and nurturing.  We would do well to be aware, I think, of the ways in which anger can easily become a false friend. 

Forgiveness is intriguing me right now. I feel like it turns conventional approaches to social change on their head. It directs us to find freedom, strength and power by letting go of our anger. It almost feels counterintuitive. 

But then breaking old habits often does feel strange, uncomfortable and wrong – so much so, that we struggle hard to succeed in making the break. And now I’m inclined to ask and consider: what are the habits we have as social changemakers/activists that feel ‘right’ because we are accustomed to them – but actually are doing us a dis-service? In what ways – as was happening to Mary – are our reactions to injustice taking us away from being the people we want to be and creating the society we want to see?

Last week I went on a ten day Vipassana meditation course. You don’t get much of an opportunity to talk with others, so I know very little about most of the people who joined me. Ages ranged, I believe, from eighteen to mid-sixties. Economic backgrounds varied. The course has a policy of no fees, only donations – you pay what you can afford and feel is appropriate. Thus, people with very little money come on the course – I know this because I talked with two people who fit in that category, who had struggled to pay for transport to get to the Centre. The racial and ethnic diversity of my fellow meditators was very mixed (to my delight): British, American, Sri Lankan, Jamaican, Ukranian, Chinese, Irish and others I’m sure. We displayed various shades of skin colour. I mention all this to make it clear that, in writing this post, I’m not referring to a particular set of people based on class, race or ethnicity. My observation is a general one – and my observation is this: we – people – are careless, very careless. And this carelessness is no doubt damaging us on a day-to-day basis.  

What led me to this observation – brought it front of mind during the meditation course? Shoes.

The course site includes a large meditation hall. When you enter that building – the Dhamma Hall – you take off your shoes before going into the main room. You do the same when entering your sleeping quarters. One day, I found myself in the Hall observing the way many people had turned shoes with laces into slip-ons. That is, they stopped tying and untying their shoes and instead flattened out the heel support at the back of the shoe. In many of the shoes I saw, e.g., trainers (sneakers, if you are from the US), this involves cracking the back of the shoe. It is taking a perfectly good shoe and wrecking it.

A few days before attending the course, I had read something about a shoe company that makes bespoke shoes and I think – though I might be mis-remembering this – for every pair they make for paying customers, they create a pair to send to a child living in poverty. This bit of information came to mind, as I looked at all those broken shoes. Outrage bubbled up inside me as I thought about how people around the world would value having a decent pair of shoes and here were all these people ruining their shoes because they could not be bothered to tie and untie them when they entered the hall and their accommodations.

Careless. Totally careless.

We are so accustomed to having our basic needs met that we take them absolutely for granted. We also create waste – those crushed-heel shoes will last a lot less longer, which means new purchases, new shoemaking, new waste. Of course, all this was additionally maddening given where we were – a meditation centre where we were strengthening our capacity to be self-aware.

And I started wondering – what else are we careless about? I say ‘we’ even though I had purposefully brought a pair of clogs to the Centre, knowing my shoes would be regularly coming on and off. While I might not have been careless about my shoes, I’m sure I’m often careless in life - materially, linguistically, emotionally, physically.

We all must be quite careless as we multi-task and rush through our days.

No serious harm was done by people breaking the heels in their shoes and perhaps some people only brought already broken shoes with them for this purpose. Regardless, staring at those broken heel supports, I thought about how carefully someone who owns one pair of shoes will tend to them and value them – do everything they can to keep those shoes in good condition.

Imagine if we all regularly paused to think about what we are doing, and saying, how we are carrying our bodies as we move and sit, the impact of our always trying to do various tasks all at the same time. 

How would our lives change if we were all more careful? This isn’t in opposition to risk-taking – I’m all for taking risks in the form of leaps into the unknown. This is careful in the sense of having awareness of how we are being, doing and impacting on our selves and the world around us – when we are careless who and what are we de-valuing and breaking down? Who and what are we pushing into a state of total disrepair? Who and what are we failing to keep in good condition?

In what ways – for whom and in what activities - can you be more full of care?

I’m a practicing mediator (including as a volunteer with an East London mediation service, Common Ground – yes, I am making a flagrant pitch for the organisation!). Today I did some coaching. The objective of the coaching was to help a woman who had requested mediation, but the other party – who had initially said yes - pulled out before the scheduled meeting. The idea with coaching was to work through different options for moving forward. This case was unusual for me – the primary dispute and request for mediation was in relation to a husband and wife.  I suspect I will be thinking about this coaching session a lot over the next days – I was deeply touched by it. And I ended it thinking – and saying to the interpreter – “Wow. I bet there are so many women like this one. It’s heartbreaking.” And so it is, that I want to tell her story – making changes, so that her anonymity is guaranteed. I have no concrete purpose in telling it, except to bring visibility to women like her.  I say ‘women like her’ with a bit of reluctance – because I believe that ‘women like her’ aren’t all that different from ‘women like me’  - that the story I heard today unfolds in different forms everywhere – cutting across class, race, religion, ethnicity, educational background etc.

I also believe that the fact this woman is experiencing what she is experiencing is a damming statement about our society. Yes, our – not ‘society’, not ‘the society’ or ‘her community’ – our society.  I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again – we all have responsibility for the culture we live in and the destruction around us. Our contributions to and involvement in our society take many different forms including, silence and passive complicity, active encouragement, active challenge, and unconscious encouragement (by unwittingly behaving in ways that undermine ethical values).  But that’s enough of my soapboxing – here’s Sasha’s story (with a few bits and pieces about our exchange).

Sasha is thirty four year’s old. She’s been this country for sixteen years. When she came she spoke no English. She had come with her new husband who spoke English to a decent level. She was scared, but excited to go live in another country. Eventually her family would be coming, too. She soon realized that the man she married was not the kind, gentle individual she had seen when they met and got to know each other. When they arrived in this country, she started to see his need for control, his temper, his impatience and what she would call his ‘cleverness.’

Fast forward, she is thirty four years old and her husband has left her. She has three children who are nine, thirteen and fifteen .  She is taking classes and her English is slowly improving. She understands more than she speaks. Her children are bilingual though their English is better than their mother-tongue. This means, she has discovered, that they do not do a very good job at translating for her – for example, when she has to talk with their teachers.

Sasha has no friends.  Her family has been in this country for almost all of the sixteen years that she has been here. When she told them of her situation, they offered up advice on different people she should talk to – mainly, public agencies – but no one from her family would go with her to make inquiries, support her with language or emotionally.

Sasha feels totally alone.

She also feels angry, frustrated, sad, and powerless.  And tired. She’s very tired of going from place to place to sort out different issues. And often, she has to struggle with language and/or poor service. When she goes to the Job Centre to sign on, she cries the whole way there because she is afraid they will yell at her. Her experience has been that they like to yell and talk aggressively. She has bad knees and a bad shoulder (the shoulder problem, I once heard is a common female ailment – our rotator’s cuffs get worn away and I imagine by the time she is forty, she’ll need surgery). Physically she is tired. Emotionally she is tired.

And, I feel it is appropriate to add, that I imagine she is soulfully tired.

Her children aren’t much help.  The teenagers, likely many young people their age, like to talk back and feign aloofness. When she asks them to help with household chores they resist. They say they are tired or too busy. Same goes for when she asks them to help her on the computer.  She’s aware that learning English and using the computer could open up her world – but it is a very slow journey when she is getting no support at home. She fears her children cannot be changed. 

On that point, we had a lovely exchange where she remembered a time when they were very small and used to pull up chairs and stand on them and help her with the dishes. One day her husband said that she shouldn’t let them do that – it would be bad for their hands. He said he would help her. And sometimes he did. But more often than not he didn’t. One of his ‘clever’ approaches was to send the children upstairs and stay with them, only to go down and offer to help when she was pretty much finished with all the washing up.

As we talked about this I encouraged her to see that her children once –upon-a-time wanted to be very helpful. I suggested that that desire is still within them, only right now it’s hidden. It can, however, be uncovered again. They can change.

We also talked about how the children must be struggling. They are probably feeling all that she is feeling and must be very confused. She would like to talk with them about what is happening in their family – but when she asks them to talk (as is often the case with children and teenagers) they say ‘I’m fine.’ She gave examples of how the children have expressed their frustration with their father and how they do not like having to ask him for things on her behalf.  The children, at times, just seem fed up with both parents. She thinks that they go back and forth between blaming each parent – if they are having an argument with her, for example, they will blame her for the family breakdown. If they are having an argument with their father, they will blame him.  We agreed that they must be very confused.

And we talked about her. ‘What are you good at?” I asked. “I’m not good at anything” was the reply. “Everybody’s good at something.” was my response. Eventually, she told me that at holiday times, when people from her ethnic community would get together, she would often have ideas on what food to make and how to arrange the table. The other women usually loved her ideas and wanted to use them. There we had it, something she’s good at. I suggested to her that she is also good at being organized – after all she runs a house with three children on her own. She keeps it clean, she looks after her children (cooking, cleaning etc), she’s studying English three days a week. 

And how about making friends – I asked if she was interested in doing that. Well, it turns out that she is worried about what people will think when they find out her husband has left her. She feels ashamed.

Shame. Wow. Tough stuff. We talked about how she isn’t unique in having a bad marriage. About how having a bad marriage doesn’t make her a bad person. Eventually we talked about the importance of her connecting with her own strength, with her power  - even though right now it feels like she doesn’t have either.

We talked about going on strike. Could she, I wondered, send a message to her children by going on strike – not cooking or cleaning. She figures that wouldn’t work – they would just happily be messy and go live on junk food. Maybe. It was only an idea – an idea for someone who felt like she had no options – like she had done all she could. 

Throughout this conversation, Sasha cried periodically. Nothing dramatic. I would first see the water fill up her eyes. And then a few tears would trickle. Early on she had left the room to get a stack of tissues. When it was all over, I asked Sasha what she felt she had got – if anything – out of our conversation. She said she felt more confident that ‘social workers’ – though she knows I am not a social worker ‘ could come over and hear her story and listen without judging her.  She felt more confident that they wouldn’t simply take her children away from her. That was a light bulb moment – she’s scared that in seeking assistance, her children might be taken away.

We came up with a few steps she could take immediately. One included going to her GP and explaining that her language skills are not good enough to respond to the letter she received about a psychological consultation (for her depression). The letter was asking her to call for an initial consultation on the phone and had a form to fill out with a number of questions about her mental health. It has a two-week response deadline on it. Thankfully, this had come up in our conversation and we could point out to her that she needs to take action by the last day of October. 

She clearly needs an advocate – someone to bat for her with all the public agencies. Often, when she goes to talk with people they are not very nice and/or they are rushed. Her language constraints become even more constraining in this kind of environment.   She needs emotional support. We agreed that there are organisations that might be able to help her with all these things.

It wasn’t said out loud, but it was clear. Sasha also needs love, tenderness, caring, and affirmations of her worth as a human being.

When I asked her what she was looking forward to over the next couple of weeks, she started to cry. Nothing. She isn’t looking forward to anything. She cannot imagine anything that was going to happen in the next two weeks that would make her smile.

She asked us if we wanted a drink. Previously we had said ‘no, thank you.’ But I asked the interpreter if she had time to stay. When she yes, I said we would very much like to stay for a drink. And so Sasha brought out a tray of biscuits, candy bars, two glasses of soda. She was smiling when she did that.

So much more I can/want to say. But it seems best to end there…thinking about our society how alone, tired, frustrated and scared so many people feel within it.

I am leaving my half-drafted post about collaboration, which I started last week, aside for the moment. Still want to write about collaboration, but from a different angle than originally intended. Yesterday, I was on a countryside walk (yup, I like me walks!) courtesy of a meetup group - a connection made through a new friend. There I was on a walk with nine people, eight of whom I had never met before and one whom I had only met briefly a week before (at a movement workshop). One of these walkers is called Taylor and in a very unexpected way we ended up talking about collaboration. My conversation with Taylor particularly drew my attention to three ideas: (1) we are constantly in processes of collaboration - life is comprised of a series of collaborations (2) what might help us enrich our collaborations is to have greater awareness of of what we are bringing to them, e.g. our assumptions, prejudices, narratives (3) each of our collaborations goes through stages/cycles and so in times of challenge we might benefit from asking ourselves "Where are we at this collaboration?" rather than simply concluding "This isn't working and can't work" or "You are just impossible to work with!"  

Before lunch, Taylor had asked me that age-old question: "What do you do?" Though it is a pretty open question, people ask it wanting to know "What do you do for a living?' My answer: I support people involved in social change to work with conflict, engage with greater self-awareness, connect more deeply with their values and what's important to them. I do all of this wanting to help people strengthen their efforts to drive social change - helping people not only to get out of their own way, but to unleash their inner assets. After lunch, she walked up to me and said "I think there is something you can help me with" and then told me she recently committed herself to a project called 'Photography and Social Change'. As happens, I knew about this project - it had caught my eye in an email from GlobalNet21.  In any event, she started to say that she was interested in working with stills and video. That was the starting point from which we took a journey that went in all sorts of directions before explicitly finding its way to talk of collaboration.

Our dialogue pretty much involved me asking Taylor questions, e.g., What does the think of when she thinks social change? What does she think of when she thinks about working with photography? When she puts the two together? That's how we began and then my questions responded to what seemed to be alive in Taylor in any given moment. I also did a lot of reflecting - saying to her what I thought I was hearing from her in terms of what's important to her, what questions she's grappling with, her assumptions, her passions, and so on. One milestone in the journey was the discovery that Taylor sees herself and others as storytellers and she wants to capture people's stories. Another milestone was Taylor revealing that one idea which is really alive for her at the moment is that human beings are constantly on movement - that 'elusive moment' photographers sometimes say they want to capture is totally non-existent. That is, people are constantly in movement and having to adapt to the constant change around us. At the moment, when Taylor thinks social change, she thinks about this constant movement, adaptation, and flexibility. For her 'social change' is not something you do - it simply is how we are. And she also thinks about the stories of a particular group of people, when she thinks about social change. This includes this surprisingly varied relationships these people have with their identity – people’s stories can take us beneath what you see on (and often assume from) the surface.  

And so it is, that Taylor wants to get involved in this Photography and Social change project. She imagines that these two distinct ideas and topics will come together, though at this stage she doesn't know how. Realising this was also a milestone in our journey. Turns out, Taylor was wanting clarity on how to proceed with being involved in this project. Our dialogue helped her see more clearly what's important to her. Which brings me to yet another milestone - Taylor was in some ways reluctant to move forward on her involvement in this project because she had a fear of failing to be different. She figured this kind of work has been and redone before - that there was little point in doing something unless she could be original, unique, add something. She felt she had to try to come up with a new concept.

Well, we talked about this for a bit - really focusing on the idea that the best way for anyone to come out with something valuable is to connect with their own truth. Her valuable and unique contribution to the project will be the result of her sharing what is true for her - we each have our distinct, unique voice (rooted in our life experience, perspectives, and connections) and this is our gift. We talked about how artists whose work resonates widely have connected with their truth, and in doing so, connected also to a bigger, universal truth. Hugely successful movies and stories (I'm thinking Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and a whole host of fairy tales) draw upon archetypes. I doubt the artists are doing this consciously - it is more of a channeling that happens, a channeling of the universal that tends to arise when we connect deeply with our selves, our inner knowings. But I won't delve to deeply into this subject right now (maybe a future post!). The point is, another milestone for Taylor was to let go of this idea that she had to try and come up with something new. Instead - and it is likely to involve a lot less try - she could focus on expressing herself and what is truly alive within her. She liked this idea - it got her thinking of the journey ahead as a process of emergence and discovery. 

It was on this note we sort of wrapped up this dialogue. We both had enjoyed the exchange; I very much enjoy helping someone with their opening up/expansion  process and she felt relaxed and was pleased to have gained some clarity on what matters to her. At this point, Taylor mentioned that she was kind of surprised by our exchange, because she doesn't normally collaborate so easily. Yes, she really did use the word 'collaborate'  - not a word I would have chosen to describe what we had been doing. I just thought we were having a conversation. Mutual gratitude shared, we moved on to engaging with others. But when the opportunity arose, I re-connected with Taylor on this subject. I latched onto this idea - did she really see our dialogue as a form of collaboration? And what does she normally find are inhibitors to collaboration? She is, she explained, afraid of getting things wrong, only wanting to present ideas when she feels they are full developed, if not perfect. And she finds it difficult to trust people easily. 

And so from there we talked at length about the fear of getting things wrong, about trust, about silliness (sometimes, Taylor gets frustrated by the ways people connect with each other on-line only to be silly and jokey. She sees this as a waste of time. I suggested it might be part of their getting to know each other and trust-building process). We talked about collaboration. Eventually, we stumbled upon what felt like a big milestone for both of us. Taylor had said she isn't very good at collaborating. But is that true? We ended up weaving a different story/ painting another picture. Taylor is slow to trust people and sometimes quick to be dismissive of them.  She can't openly engage with people unless she trusts them, respects them. We took this information and created the following narrative: Taylor can collaborate and often does so - but usually it takes her a long time to feel free to open herself up with others. So, in some situations the collaboration process gets off to a very slow start. And sometimes, it never gets off the ground because she closes down, and decides she couldn't possibly open herself up with a certain person or group of people. As we talked, the idea came to me: life is a series of collaborations. And we agreed: Taylor is constantly collaborating with people; she's just at different stages in different contexts. 

And what followed is that a key stage for Taylor, in collaboration, is the building trust stage. But even that takes a certain amount of open-ness - a willingness to connect and engage, despite doubts and reservations. This led to her own admission - she likes to make assumptions and can be quick to do so - a big collaboration inhibitor. So, in the future, she might help the situation by asking 'Do I trust this person/these people? If not, why not and how can I come to trust them - what would it take on my part? On their part?' In doing so, she keeps the possibility of collaboration open.

And as for the perfectionist in her - well, we revisited that, too. If, as she now understands, we are in a state of constant flux and movement then it becomes hard to capture anything fully - including a concept or an idea. So, striving perfection is futile - everything is a work in progress. 

And so it is, that these three ideas about collaboration are very alive within me right now: (1) we are constantly in processes of collaboration - life is comprised of a series of collaborations (2) what might help us enrich our collaborations is to have greater awareness of what we are bringing to them, e.g. our assumptions, prejudices, narratives (3) each of our collaborations goes through stages/cycles and so in times of challenge we might benefit from asking ourselves "Where are we at this collaboration?" rather than simply concluding "This isn't working and can't work" or "You are just impossible to work with!"  

Thanks, Taylor (not her real name) - for collaborating with me on exploring the art of collaboration. We didn't plan it or force it - we just let it unfold as we walked a long. It was fun, light, thought-provoking and I thoroughly enjoyed it! 

Last weekend, I went on a four day, fifty mile walk along the Cotswold Way. My friend Olivia Sprinkel and I use these walks for exercise, connection with nature and connection with our selves through focused dialogue, awareness, and meditation. We also, social types that we are, tend to end up connecting with other people - people we meet randomly along the way. This trip seemed more social than other ones - we had quite a few lengthy conversations. We talked with farmers, a publican, B&B owners and the owner of a Cheltenham tea shop (the oldest one in town, I believe). The learning that stands out the most to me is not to assume and to be open - people are full of surprises and different perspectives . And so here I am, eager to report on a dinner conversation along the Cotswold Way.

Our first night we stayed in North Farmcote at a B&B run by David (we highly recommend it!). To our surprise, when he gave us a lift to a nearby pub for dinner, he intended for it to be a group event. So it is, that Olivia and I had dinner with David, Rowan and Michael, and Annie. David runs his B&B while also being a farmer - sheep, I believe (somehow, we didn't find out, only know that in the afternoon he has been baling - though what I'm not sure - could be hay, straw, silage....). Rowan and Michael are a retired farming couple from South Devon. Their farm was dairy. Rowan also runs a B&B (yes a shameless plug, though we have not stayed there!) on their property. Annie, well, Annie is a former professional singer-turned-voice coach. She grew up in the area and is a friend of David. 

That evening we were told that smallhold dairy farming - at least in Devon - is in a state of demise. Where Rowan and Michael come from, the number of smallhold (I think, but am not sure, this is the correct term to use) dairy farms have gone from 23 to 1. I've heard it said that dairy farming is bad for the environment - an argument usually made by vegetarians and vegans. If we use this as our springboard, we might think it a good thing - this demise of the dairy farmer in south England. However, the reality is that this is a country full of meat and dairy consumers. As independent dairy farms disappear, they are being replaced by factory/insdustrial farms: mass production for mass consumption. And as I understand it, factory farming is not good for the consumer, the animal or the environment. Where domestic factory farming is inadequate either David or Michael explained - and this was very much news to me - England imports its milk from Poland. Now, I'm neither expert environmentalist nor economist, but that just seems daft on both fronts. In fact, Olivia revealed that possibly my favourite yogurt producer - Yeo Valley, which I always assumed was end-to-end a domestic product (because of the claims it makes) - actually uses milk from Poland! Pah! Rather deceptive advertising if it is true...

We heard about how farming is hard work. A lot of farms disappear because the children of farmers grow up and think 'I'm not going to do this - slog it out day after day only to be in a precarious financial situation." A smallhold farm requires labour, but sometimes it is too small to be able to employ labour - so without family commitment, a farm goes down.Some people might argue this is 'progress' - industrialisation and no need for such hard, menial labour - it frees people up to pursue other, more enriching activities.  That's the subject of another conversation/post. What struck me most about our dinner chat was that these folks were very cross with Government.  

Our dinner companions shared the view that Government is ignoring the interests of small farmers. Government isn't actively doing anything to harm them, but also isn't doing anything to help them. Everyone around the table agreed that when it comes to food production in England, the large supermarkets are in control - not Government. Olivia and I  were surprised - and later discussed this- because we figured the Coalition is the type of government that would be out there supporting small farmholds and we assumed that the Cotswolds was diehard Tory territory. On the latter point, I'm still sure it is, but I am now curious to know how many of the folks out in the countryside are disenchanted with the Coaltion - and not just because of any Lib-Dem influence upon it...  And, of course, I enjoyed the idea that we lefty urbanites who are frustrated by chain supermarket domination of the high streets have common ground with large sections of rural folk who otherwise are likely to be Tory supporters.

There was one mention of governmental engagement with smallhold farmers: regulations requiring that farmers don't mess too much with surrounding environment. I think we're talking here about government wanting to ensure farmers are encouraging bio-diversity on their smallholds. Which, of course, a lot of lefties I know would be keen to support. I didn't get a clear sense of how much these regulations do or don't bug farmers... but, of course, it reminded me that there are Tory environmentalists - that perhaps the Green movement readily transcends other forms of political ideology. Again, subject of another post (one that I will never write, because I don't know huge amounts about the Green movement, though the Cotswold conversation has got me thinking more than I ever have about food production...). 

We moved on from the subject of farming to immigration. Yup, that old chestnut. Now, you might think, being the only non-White person at the table and possibly in the pub, I'd stay away from that topic. But for starters, when these folks think of immigration, they firstly think of Polish people. And, truth be told, they think of how wonderful they are. Michael told a story of how he went into a shop to get parts for some mechanical equipment. When he realised the person behind the counter was Polish, he was instinctively annoyed - assumed their English wouldn't be good and he wouldn't get the help he needed. He came in not sure about exactly what part he needed to fix what he wanted to fix. So, he didn't just want to buy a part, he wanted advice. Well, he described to the best of this ability what he thought he needed and what types of parts he might be looking for. After a little while, the woman - yes, I do believe it was a woman - behind the counter did that gesture of 'hang on, I know just the thing', grabbed the ladder, climbed up the shelves to a set of boxes and came down with a part. Lo and behold, when she showed him what she had brought down and why she chose that particular part, he knew he had exactly what he needed. 

Now Michael's conclusion to this story was that if an English person - probably in their late teens, early twenties - had been behind the counter, they would have just said, 'Nope, sorry, we can't help you.' In the run up to this story there had been a lot of head-nodding about the proposition that 'immigrants take the jobs nobody here seems to be willing to do.' And Michael's story seemed to be adding to that assumption: 'And they do a helluvabetter job than our people would.' Now, you are thinking that I'm dissing 'British Youth' and/or that the thing is these Polish people are undercutting wages - they work for less. And when I hear that I'm not going to say who is right or wrong. Rather, I start thinking: 'Yeh, this is a complex picture - which is why it is important to look at it from many different angles and perspectives, to explore deeply the different types of information and insight it gives us.'

We did talk a little bit about immigrants from elsewhere - courtesy of Annie who has been doing a lot of work lately up in Birmingham. Of course, the people we were probably calling immigrants were probably not 'immigrants' at all. Some were no doubt born and raised in this country. This is a bugbear of  mine - when do people stop becoming immigrants here? I mean, there is no such thing as a '2nd-generation immigrant' - you are either an immigrant or you aren't - and I wish we'd toss that phrase and others like it out of existence.  But that is by the by. Annie - like Michael - tended to associate immigrants with people who work hard. 

Now, this is potentially working up what is called a 'positive stereotype' - well, for the immigrants at least. And we have to be careful here - stereotypes (negative and positive) have a tendency to constrain dialogue as we put people in boxes, and take positions based on overly-simplified assumptions.That said, I was pleased to be in rural England, talking with farmers and locals about immigrants and hearing nothing but nice words said. And I told them this - I said, back in London one gets the idea that everyone outside of London is an immigrant-hating fiend, and I was glad we could be having a conversation where that wasn't the case. 

In response,  Michael added the point that immigrants were bringing new ideas to this country, including in farming. He had heard that in farmers in other parts of the country were growing all sorts of new types of vegetables in order to meet different food preferences. Am I now going to assume that the xenophobia we hear about and see signs of is exagerrated?  Well, a little bit. I do wonder sometimes if some politicians and media voices are stoking fires, trying to pit people against one another so they can come out as the heroes who save the day from the undesirable 'invaders.' At the same time, I know racism and prejudice exists in significant enough levels and forms (in and out of rural England) that we can't be complacent about. And I'm clear that one friendly dinner conversation in a rural pub isn't necessarily at all representative of what's out there.

Nevertheless, as a result of this conversation, I think I'm going to soften my armour a bit - soften that guard I put up, as a Brown-skinned person, outside of London or sometimes in London among certains groups of White people....I'll move through the world with greater attention to making no assumptions about people and instead being open when I engage with them. And even when something comes up where I think 'uh-oh, here we go....', I'll do my best to continue open and expansive conversation - because getting aggressive and defensive is unlikely to open up the other person to new perspectives. 

And that's my reporting on Olivia and Veena's dinner in North Farmcote....more reportage from the Cotswold Way coming soon!

I got up this morning and on the news I was hearing that the Lib Dems want to diversify, meaning they don’t want to be – as I call it – so Vanilla or as the radio commentator was saying, ‘White, male and pale.” It seems that they are taking action by setting up an ethnic minority leaders programme. I share the cynicism people have about the idea that any political party should seek to get more ethnic minority voters by getting more ethnic minority candidates; at the same time, I can see the logic there – not that ethnic minority individuals better represent ethnic minority individuals, but that the absence of them/us in any Party suggests some sort of lacking when it comes to equality.  And as one interviewee rightly summarized, some ethnic minority individuals will welcome proposals for an ethnic minority leaders programme and some will be totally – and understandably - be put off by it. 

I laughed when I was listening to all this because I was thinking of my fleeting encounter with the Lib Dems. At the end of 2009, I decided I would like to work with them. This was after attending a Democrats-Abroad UK event where Nick Clegg spoke  - I liked what he said. I approached him afterwards and was quickly pointed to one of his special advisors – who, I’m guessing was about 26, blond, definitely middle class (if not higher). A young, bright thing – as the label goes, though I discourage anyone from calling anyone else ‘thing.’ He gave me his card and said to send in my CV with a few sentences about my interests.

I did just that and I mentioned two interests (1) localism and asset-based community development and (2) diversity in relation to public procurement and commissioning. I emphasised that my interests are in policy development. Eventually I got a meeting with someone whom I was led to believe worked in policy. I turned up at Lib Dem HQ in Westminster. We went somewhere else to have a coffee.

And then it became quickly apparent to me – they had me meeting a British Asian person (I’m of Indian descent) who was part of their ethnic minority outreach team – with a remit of trying to attract ethnic minorities to support the Lib Dems. He (I’m not worried about keeping this person anonymous, because he wanted me to tell this story back then - so if you work with the Lib Dems and his gender and ethnicity give him away, well....so be it, as long as this is not held against him in any way!) immediately realised what was going on, after hearing my introductory spiel. Maybe I was being sensitive, but here’s how it read to me: young, bright, White advisor sees the color of my skin and/or my name and blanks out everything I say/write. He never heard/understood that I was interested in policy – let alone my specific areas of interest.

This in mind, I felt very irritated with the Lib Dems and in that meeting.  The person I met with said this was pretty standard Lib Dem practice and asked me to write in a complaint to raise the issue more widely. At the time, I didn’t have the energy/inclination for doing that.  I regret this omission. Change happens through awareness-raising, which requires people speaking up.

My advice to the LibDems (and any Party) – if you want to outreach to ethnic minority individuals in different ways, e.g. as voters, as potential candidates, and potential staffers/advisors:

1. See us as individuals who, like everyone, have diverse interests and backgrounds, which means…
2. Make no assumptions about us based on color, name, religion, ethnicity etc.
3. Constantly ensure you are reflective – checking your assumptions and beliefs and how they influence your interactions with people who do not look and/or speak like you or have a non-Anglo name.
4. Recognise and act on the fact that ethnic minority individuals  - like everyone else – want political representatives who share their principles and policy positions, across a range of issues, and not all of us want to spend energy talking about ‘diversity’ (though I happen to be one that does, but only as one of many political and social interests I have)
5. Constantly keep thinking about diversity of experience and perspective generally – I imagine it would be a useful exercise, for example, to reflect on how diverse Lib Dems are as simply as a community of White people.

I’m sure there are more tips I could/should be giving you….but this feels like a good start.

And I’m glad I’m finally telling this story – because at the time of the incident,  I was really quite angry about it – as Party leaders were saying today: the Lib Dems claim to stand for fairness and equality, but their appearance says different. But let’s be clear here – appearance is merely one indicator and also is not the best performance measure.  Ultimately it is behaviors and choices in relation to public policy that tell the story -  not speeches, sound-bites and promises – and it is by their behaviors and choices in public policy that any political party should be measured on its performance in promoting equality.