Going nowhere
What if you didn't need to get anywhere?
The question might sound absurd. Modern life seems to tell us, rather relentlessly, that we need to get somewhere. Fast.
Climb the career ladder. Become more successful. Accumulate more. Fix and improve who we are.
It can seem like a natural, unquestionable state of affairs; a necessary part of life.
It's not.
In Yellow, we gather people together in small groups that gather for an online session every two weeks for six months.
It's not a pre-scripted program. There are no learning objectives or desired outcomes set in advance.
It's a space where we listen to what's emerging, and respond together.
Naturally, Rob and I don't show up empty-handed to the sessions. Instead, we bring a starting point based on what happened in the previous session. That might be a theme to explore through conversation. Or it might be a painting to look at. Perhaps a guest to bring in. Or an embodied exercise to play around with.
But these are merely starting points. What happens from there is anyone's guess. Sometimes we end up deepening the themes we've been exploring. Other times we wander off in new directions, following the energy as it takes us into uncharted territory.
Wherever we go, we don't know where that is or what that looks like beforehand.
Being in constant creative response to what's emerging can feel both scary and energizing. Yet this is what makes anything feel alive. It's when you don't know exactly where you're going that you have to rise up and meet the moment. The philosopher Martin Buber spoke of going out with your whole being. To be in constant creative response is a continuous bringing forth and unfolding of what lies dormant within. It's an encounter with more of who you are.
Not trying to get anywhere is, for us, a practice in faith and trust. If we trust people to find what they need, then goals and desired outcomes cease to have a crippling effect. And if we have faith both in our convictions and in what is wanting to emerge, then we don't need to be concerned about where we'll end up in the future, right now.
Of course, this is a practice – filled with wobbles and intermittent stings of fear and doubt. Yet it still feels like a practice worth pursuing, for no other reason than the aliveness and connection that seems come with it.
Where that takes us? Who knows.
We'll see when we get there.
