Understand your growing edge

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“Look well to the growing edge. All around us worlds are dying and new worlds are being born; all around us life is dying and life is being born. The fruit ripens on the tree, the roots are silently at work in the darkness of the earth against a time when there shall be new leaves, fresh blossoms, green fruit. Such is the growing edge. Look well to the growing edge.”

Howard Thurman

There are moments when the world around us feels raw and divided, when headlines and conversations seem to pull us apart rather than bring us together. In those moments I return to Howard Thurman’s words and find an invitation: to look for the small, persistent beginnings — the growing edge — where life quietly insists on renewal. Thurman’s lines are not a denial of loss; they are a map of hope. They remind us that endings and births travel side by side, that even in the shadow of decay there is an unseen labor preparing the next season.

Think of the growing edge as the slender green that appears on a branch after winter, or the first breath that follows exhaustion. As Thurman says, it is “the extra breath from the exhausted lung, the one more thing to try when all else has failed.” It is the steady, stubborn impulse that keeps us trying, learning, and reaching for what is better. This impulse is not grandiose or flashy; often it is quiet and humble — a neighbor listening, a teacher staying late, a community garden taking root in a vacant lot. Those acts, multiplied, become the scaffolding for something new.

 

Our world today bears many fractures — political rancor, social pain, environmental strain. Yet if we look only at what is breaking, we miss the synchronous birth of possibility. “All around us life is dying and life is being born.” If we pay attention to the growing edge, we can choose to live in alignment with that emergence. That doesn’t mean ignoring difficulty. It means placing our energy where life is being renewed: toward understanding, toward repair, toward building structures that invite flourishing rather than entrenching harm.

How do we tend the growing edge in the life we live? First, by embracing change instead of fearing it. Change is the canvas where new worlds are painted. Thurman’s vision encourages us to accept transformation as natural and necessary — to learn, adapt, and be curious about new perspectives. This openness creates the possibility of connection where division once stood.

Second, by intentionally looking for the positive developments that flicker into being. When we “look well to the growing edge,” we train our attention on those emerging efforts that point toward life: grassroots movements organizing for justice, teachers designing classrooms that foster belonging, neighbors organizing to protect a local river. These are the places where hope is not theoretical but practical. Thurman calls this “the upward reach of life when weariness closes in upon all endeavor.” Even a single upward reach can change the direction of a weary heart.

Third, by cultivating resilience. The growing edge is “the basis of hope” because it gives us evidence that renewal is possible. When we recognize obstacles as opportunities to grow, we reclaim agency. Speaking truth, showing up for others, and insisting on dignity in daily choices are acts that compound. They make us stronger and they signal to others that building anew is worth the struggle.

Fourth, by engaging in meaningful dialogue. When “times are out of joint and men have lost their reason,” Thurman suggests the incentive to carry on lies in relation, in listening and in sharing. Conversation done with patience and empathy can soften hardened positions and reveal common aims. It’s not always easy; it requires humility and courage to speak and to listen. But such exchanges often become the quiet work of the roots, preparing fertile ground for new leaves and blossoms.

I have to say without a shadow of a doubt there have been times in my life where I did not want to “engage in meaningful dialogue”. I even went so far as to decry the impulse to do so. How can you expect me to talk with “this person” for what they are doing around them?

It is HARD. It is WORTH IT!

Finally, by nurturing new leaders and ideas. “The birth of a child — life’s most dramatic answer to death” points to the profound power of beginnings. Supporting those who are starting — young people, marginalized voices, community organizers — replenishes our collective capacity to imagine and build alternatives. Their insights are often fresh because they are less encumbered by the constraints of what has always been.

History and daily life offer countless examples of the growing edge in motion: movements that transformed societies, technologies that reconnected people across distances, community responses to climate crises that turned despair into action. These all began as something small and persistent — a few people refusing to accept the finality of the old story.

There are challenges. Cynicism can blunt our sight; uncertainty can make us cling to familiar pain; idealism without grounding can falter. Thurman’s call — “Look well to the growing edge” — is precisely a remedy for these trials. It trains attention toward the life that insists on being born even in difficult soil.

So, when the world feels fractured, remember to look for the new leaves, the fresh blossoms, the quiet roots working underground. Tend to them when you find them. Join them when you can. In that practice, one extra breath at a time, we become participants in a larger turning — from fragmentation toward a renewed and shared life. Look well to the growing edge.

Folks reading Howard Thurman is a life changing experience for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Peace and every good.

Detroit Eight: From Fury to Integrated Nonviolence

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I grew up in Detroit, a city of factories and funeral parades, Motown records and mended fences. The streets I learned to walk on were loud with engines and louder still with ambition. In that city — in that era, especially — toughness was currency. I learned early to stand my ground, to protect my own, to make my small kingdom unassailable. I was quick to anger, 0 to 60 in a tenth of a second. I would ask myself, (because I did not like who I was) what’s wrong with me? No answer came that felt right, and the pattern repeated and repeated: I’d lash out, hurt people I loved, and then retreat into shame. For a long while that cycle defined me.

It took a long time — and a lot of embarrassing, painful failures — before I started to look for explanations that could become pathways instead of the same dead ends. That search, over the last 45 years, led me through countless trainings, retreats, and relationships. I studied plenty of systems and skills, but one of the most meaningful things I discovered was the Narrative Enneagram. Within that circle of nine, I found my number. I was an Eight! At first, being an Eight offered relief — finally a label that explained the force that drove me. But labels can also be prisons. I saw that I was not “integrated.” I was functioning at half speed, armed and dangerous, without most of the inward tools that make a life human.

 

When people talk about Detroit in the 1960s, they talk about dynamism and danger together. It was a place of industrial might — auto plants humming, assembly lines that made America mobile — and it was also a city simmering with social change, racial tension, and the scream of a neighborhood that felt squeezed. The Detroit of my youth carried the echoes of the Great Migration and the rising voice of civil rights. The city’s heartbeat was Motown: Berry Gordy’s miracle where Black voices found national airwaves and a kind of dignity that shimmered in lacquered records. Yet alongside that soundtrack was the sound of helicopters over riots, the crack of police batons, and the heavy grief of lives upended in streets that once felt safe.

 

In that environment, my Eight side learned to armor up fast. Eights, by temperament, protect themselves and others. We can be decisive, direct, and resolute. But when an Eight is not integrated — when the strength becomes defensiveness, when the will becomes domination — the results are destructive. I protected, but too often that protection translated into control. I could make things erupt and keep going long after the battle was over. Nonviolence? It felt distant, like a lighthouse across a foggy dreamscape — brilliant and unreachable.

The turning point was not a single dramatic event. It was a slow bringing together of consequences: the relationships I broke, the loneliness that followed victories, the growing realization that power without wisdom made me small, not big. I began to understand that being an Eight did not have to mean living in constant fight or flight. My work — a lifetime of practice — became a work of integration: bringing heart into will, softness into strength. Becoming a Narrative Enneagram Teacher was more than a credential; it was a map and a mirror. The map helped me see the directions toward healthier functioning. The mirror showed me what I had been avoiding: pain, vulnerability, and the need to learn how to love without expecting payment.

 

Part of what made this path possible was a latent contemplative streak. Even as a tough kid in Detroit, I had a part of myself drawn to silence, to long walks, to listening. But that contemplative part and my Eight-protector part were at war. It took years, and a lot of gentle but relentless practice, to let the contemplative side come in and lead sometimes. Nonviolence slowly revealed itself not as weakness, but as another kind of courage — a deeper, riskier courage that asks you to enter the world without armor and to offer dignity to people who may not deserve it by any conventional measure.

 

Nonviolence as an ethic is often mistaken for passivity. But the courage to be nonviolent is active; it is fiercely moral. It expects nothing in return. It sees others with dignity and honor. It listens more than it talks. It walks with, sits with, eats with, cries with, works with, and is present with. For me, this shift was seismic. I began practicing presence, sitting still with discomfort instead of scattering it with aggression. I learned restraint — not the brittle restraint of suppressing emotion so it later detonates, but the integrated restraint of feeling fully and choosing a wise response.

Detroit taught me a lot that helped on this path. In the 60s, the city showed both the worst and the best of human responses to pressure. It taught an appreciation for community — neighbors who checked on one another, churches that organized, and storefronts that doubled as meeting houses. It taught resilience. Coming out of factories and through hard winters taught people how to persevere; it taught me, too, that endurance can be tempered with tenderness. The music was a school of its own. Motown taught us how to turn sorrow into voice, outrage into rhythm, and marginalization into artistry. That artistry taught me how expression can be both a release and a bridge.

 

Becoming a healthy Eight required that I relearn power. True power, I discovered, is not about the loudest voice or the most forceful stance. True power is presence. It is the capacity to hold complexity without collapsing into defensiveness. It is the humility to ask for help. It is the willingness to risk being known as imperfect. I practiced sitting with people I feared, letting them see me, letting me see them. I practiced listening without planning my rebuttal. I practiced the kind of attentiveness that honors the other as worthy.

 

Was it easy? No. I would be lying if I claimed to have become saintly. Old habits die slowly and some are stubborn in their refusal to die. I am still not perfect. But the change has been profound. The storms have calmed. I have real peace now — a presence that feels more alive and less like a bluff. And that peace has given me the capacity to teach from a place of empathy rather than coercion. As a Narrative Enneagram Teacher, MCC (Master Certified Coach), and a Spiritual Director I don’t just help people identify their numbers; I help them see the paths toward integration: how to bring heart to will, how to temper justice with mercy, how to turn fierce protection into compassionate stewardship.

 

This journey taught me a lesson that reaches beyond personality systems: transformation is possible when courage is directed inward. The bravest thing I did was not a heroic outward act, but a quiet, repeated turning inward — to ask hard questions, to allow grief and shame to be felt, and to choose differently each time. From Detroit’s fists and furnace, I forged a softer kind of steel: resilient, flexible, and honest.

 

If you are an Eight reading this, or the loved one of an Eight, know this: your force can be your greatest gift when it is integrated with tenderness. Try to see the lighthouse of nonviolence not as a retreat but as a harbor. If you are someone who grew up in tough places — in cities of industry and unrest, where survival required a hard face — know you can let down that face without losing yourself. You can keep your dignity while showing vulnerability. You can hold others without crushing them.

 

If you are not an Eight, perhaps you recognize in this story a pattern you know well: a part of you that is reactive; a part that wants to protect at all costs. Our work is similar: to find the courage to be less sure, more present, more generous with silence and attention. To listen. To walk with. To sit with.

 

I won’t pretend the path is quick. It took me decades to move from a default of fury to a life where peace is possible. But the effort is worth it. The city taught me that too — to endure, to repair, to keep making music even when the world is cracked. There is a tenderness in Detroit that does not compromise grit. There is a sanctity in power when it is used to steward rather than dominate.

 

Try it. Sit in an uncomfortable silence, and don’t fill it with force. Walk toward someone you fear and stay long enough to see them. Speak quietly when the instinct is to roar. You might be surprised by how powerful you can be when you are softer. You might just like it.

Peace and every good.

First Comes Justice, A call to action!

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First Comes Justice: A Call to Action

 

I heard this call last week and it has been haunting me. Do you know what the definition of Justice is? In today’s world Justice embodies fairness, equality, and accountability, ensuring that every individual is treated with dignity, regardless of their background. It goes beyond law enforcement to actively pursue social equity, addressing systemic targeting that marginalize certain people groups. In our rapidly changing global landscape, justice demands a commitment to human rights and the protection of the vulnerable. It calls for us as a collective society to challenge injustices that we see and create systems that empower all members of society. Ultimately, for all of us, justice fosters a world where everyone has the opportunity to live freely and access the resources they need to succeed.

To continue this thread, thinking about a world teetering on the edge of chaos and dis-order, the concept of justice stands as a beacon of hope and a call to action. Justice is not merely a legal term or a distant ideal; it is the very foundation upon which a compassionate society is built. It is the force that holds back the darkness, offering light to those who have been cast into the shadows. But who offers this justice? Who visits the poor and the sick? And more importantly, who are we as a society—those who love and act, or those who turn away, saying, “Not my problem”?

Justice is often personified by those who dedicate their lives to serving others. These are the individuals and organizations that step into the breach, filling the gaps left by systemic failures. They are the social workers, the healthcare providers, the educators, and the countless volunteers who work tirelessly to uplift the marginalized and the oppressed. They are the ones who visit the poor, offering not just material aid but also dignity and respect. They are the ones who visit the sick, providing care and comfort in times of need. And for me and a few others that I know, visiting the incarcerated in prisons across the country with a program called “Kairos“. Can I tell you a secret? There were times that I did not want to go through that gate, I was tired, I was sure that I was not making a difference, I knew there so many more people then me that could do it better. But, if not me, who?

These guardians of justice do not act out of obligation but out of a deep-seated belief in the inherent worth of every individual. They understand that justice is not a zero-sum game but a collective endeavor that benefits all. By lifting others, they lift society as a whole.

Injustice thrives in the shadows, feeding on ignorance and apathy. It is the darkness that creeps into the corners of our communities, whispering that some lives are worth less than others. But justice, when wielded with compassion and courage, holds back this darkness. It shines a light on inequality and demands accountability. It challenges the status quo and insists on change. I like to tell people when doing spiritual direction that those of us that are called to work with the least, the last and the lost are linking arms and holding back darkness while shining light in the darkest of dark corners of our society.

Justice is not passive; it is active and dynamic. It requires us to confront our uncomfortable truths and to take action, even when it is inconvenient or difficult. It calls us to be allies and advocates, to use our voices and our resources to support those who have been silenced and marginalized.

The measure of a society is how it treats its most vulnerable members. The poor and the sick are often the first to be forgotten, left to fend for themselves in a world that values wealth and health above all else. But justice demands that we do better. It calls us to visit the poor, to understand their struggles and to work towards solutions that address the root causes of poverty. And yes, the poor will always be with us. It calls us to visit the sick, to provide care and compassion, and to advocate for a healthcare system that is accessible and equitable for all.

Visiting the poor and the sick is not just an act of charity; it is an act of justice. It is a recognition of our shared humanity and a commitment to building a society that values every life.

In a world where the gaps in our social fabric are widening, we are called to be fillers of the breach. This is not a task for the faint of heart, and you may not be a person called to do this, but it is a task that is essential for the survival of our communities and frankly our world. Like some of you, Lynette and I have been honored to travel around the world, and guess what folks, other places has these problems as well. Because it requires us to step into the spaces where others have fallen short, to offer support and solutions where there are none.

Filling the breach means being proactive rather than reactive. It means anticipating the needs of our communities and working collaboratively to address them. It means being innovative and resourceful, finding new ways to support those who are struggling. Not by saying, Not my problem, but realizing that it is all of our problems.

Ultimately, the question of justice is a question of identity. Who are we as a society? Are we known by those who love, who act with compassion and courage? Or are we known by those who say, “Not my problem,” turning away from the suffering of others?

The answer lies in our actions. Justice is not a passive state; it is an active choice. It is a choice to stand up for what is right, to speak out against injustice, and to work towards a world where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.

This is a call to action for all of us. It is a call to be the guardians of justice, to hold back the darkness, and to visit the poor and the sick. It is a call to fill the breach, to be known by our love and our compassion.

We cannot afford to be complacent. The challenges we face are so very great, but so too is our capacity for change. Together, yes together we can build a society that is just and equitable, a society that values every life and leaves no one behind.

Let us answer the call. Let us be the ones who offer justice, who hold back the darkness, and who visit the poor and the sick. Let us be the fillers of the breach, known by our love and our commitment to a better world.

 

Justice is not an abstract concept; it is a tangible reality that we create through our actions. It is the foundation of a compassionate society, and it is up to us to build it. Let us rise to the challenge and answer the call to action. Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can bring justice to all.

Join us in our mission to create a more just and compassionate society. Volunteer with local organizations, advocate for policy changes, and support initiatives that uplift the marginalized. Together, we can make a difference!!!!!

First Comes Justice!

The Uncomfortable Truth of Racism: A Reflection Inspired by Mary Elizabeth Moore

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The Uncomfortable Truth of Racism: A Reflection Inspired by Mary Elizabeth Moore

In a world that often feels divided, the stories we share can serve as bridges to understanding and healing. Today, I want to introduce you to a remarkable woman Lynette and I met at the Academy for Spiritual Formation in Nebraska: Mary Elizabeth Moore. A master educator, prolific writer, and speaker, Mary Elizabeths’s work in religious education, process theology, and practical theology is deeply rooted in a commitment to repair the world. To explore the full depth of her contributions, you can visit her [bio here](https://www.biola.edu/talbot/ce20/database/mary-elizabeth-moore).

The real reason for this blog, however, is to delve into a powerful poem that Mary Elizabeth wrote, titled “I Confess.” This poem is not just a reflection of her personal experiences; it is a mirror held up to society, challenging us to confront the uncomfortable truths about racism and privilege.

I Confess

Growing up with Mary shaped me

As a person far more sensitive

Then I would have otherwise been,

A child who could love and giggle,

And dash quietly to bed

When my parents came home early.

 

My world taught me

that Mary’s Blackness

was less than my whiteness

though I always knew

she was better than me.

 

The racist structures

We enacted were strengthened

By my family’s participation

I did not condemn

Those structures with anything more

Then a few probing questions

For a few minutes at a time,

Even as I prayed every night,

“God bless Mama and Daddy

And Mary and me.”

 

White supremacy

Shaped me in my very own home,

Yet I whole-heartedly loved Mary

And was powerfully shaped by her love

And by the deep Black culture

She taught me to value

As if it were my own.

 

My white-privilege perspectives

Emerged in the same childhood

That taught me to critique them,

 

slowly, oh so slowly

In my youth, but bursting

Ever more boldly as I grew

 

though I have not

And never will

Be free of its taint.

This poem resonates deeply with me, as it evokes memories of my own upbringing in Detroit, where I witnessed firsthand the destructive power of hate and judgment. The raw honesty in Mary Elizabeth’s words forces us to confront the uncomfortable realities of our pasts and the systems that have shaped our identities.

Mary Elizabeth’s poem encapsulates the struggle of recognizing privilege while grappling with the love and relationships that exist within a racially charged environment. It highlights the paradox of loving someone from a marginalized community while simultaneously benefiting from a system that devalues their existence. This duality is a painful truth that many of us must face.

As I reflect on my own experiences, I am reminded of the countless times I have seen the impact of racism on families, individuals, and communities. The scars left by systemic oppression run deep, and they are often invisible to those who do not experience them. Mary Elizabeth’s poem serves as a reminder that acknowledging our privilege is not enough; we must actively work to dismantle the structures that perpetuate inequality.

The Journey Toward Understanding

Mary Elizabeth’s  journey of self-awareness and growth is a testament to the power of reflection and education. It is a reminder that the path toward understanding is often slow and filled with discomfort. As she writes, “Slowly, oh so slowly / In my youth, but bursting / Ever more boldly as I grew.” This gradual awakening is something many of us can relate to, as we navigate our own journeys of understanding and kinship.

The discomfort that arises from confronting our biases and the reality of racism is a necessary part of this journey. It is through this discomfort that we can begin to challenge our preconceived notions and work toward a more equitable society. Mary Elizabeth’s poem encourages us to engage in difficult conversations, to ask probing questions, and to seek out the stories of those who have been marginalized.

As we reflect on the themes presented in Mary Elizabeth’s poem, we must ask ourselves: What will it take to look at one another without the taint of prejudice? How can we actively participate in the repair of our world? The answers to these questions lie in our willingness to listen, learn, and engage with the experiences of others.

We must commit to educating ourselves about the history and impact of racism, both in our communities and beyond. This includes amplifying the voices of those who have been silenced and advocating for policies that promote equity and justice. It requires us to confront our own biases and to hold ourselves accountable for our actions.

Mary Elizabeth Moore’s work and her poignant poem serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of empathy, understanding, and action. To explore more of her insights and contributions, consider reading her book, which you can find here..

So Much to Love, So Much to Lose Paperback – September 18, 2023 

by Mary Elizabeth Moore (Author)

If I were to conclude here, you might think that because Mary Elizabeth’s poem describes a meaningful relationship with a person of color that this is my focus for this blog, it is not!  But in a world that often feels divided, we have the power to bridge the gaps through understanding and compassion. Mary Elizabeth’s poem, “I Confess,” challenges us to confront our own biases and to recognize the impact of racism towards all people groups in our lives. It is a call to action, urging us to engage in the difficult work of dismantling systemic oppression and fostering a more inclusive society. And folks, you do not have to agree with other people groups to get along with them. Right?

Can we move forward, carrying the lessons from Mary Elizabeth’s experiences and the truths revealed in her poem inside of us? Because together, we can create a world where love and understanding triumph over hate and division. By committing to being agents of change, and working tirelessly to repair the wounds of our past and build a brighter future for all ……

we can began to heal.

Redefining the people that have walked with us

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I have been talking about this subject the last few blogs and although some folks use a very narrow definition of the word ancestor, I use the word as an indicator of legacy and interconnections. The ancestors are elders who pour their lives into the community and family as a testament of love and commitment. They live and die well, and when they transition, hopefully they are lucky enough to do so in full connection with an engaged community. We believe they then dwell in the spaces carved out by our spiritual and cultural expectations. They may be in another life dimension, but they connect with us in dreams, in memories, and in stories.

I want to take this  profound perspective a little further, inspired by one of my favorite authors, Barbara Holmes, which got me thinking about my own journey with people from the past. How do I define an ancestor? Must they be people directly related to me? Do they have to be individuals I knew personally? And how have these people, whether known or unknown, helped me on my own journey?

For some, the idea that our ancestors are with us right now might seem a bit mystical or “woo woo.” However, the concept of epigenetics offers a fascinating scientific perspective on how the experiences of our ancestors can influence us today. Epigenetic’s is the study of changes in organisms caused by modification of gene expression rather than alteration of the genetic code itself. While I do not know what all of it means it does suggests that the life experiences of our ancestors, such as trauma or triumph, can leave a biological imprint on future generations. This means that the legacy of our ancestors is not just a spiritual or cultural phenomenon but also a biological one.

Historically, many cultures have revered their ancestors, believing that they continue to play an active role in the lives of the living. In ancient Egypt, for example, (taken in part from the book of the dead) the practice of ancestor worship was integral to their society. The Egyptians believed that the deceased could influence the fortunes of the living, and they often made offerings to their ancestors to ensure their favor. Similarly, in many African cultures, ancestors are seen as guardians and guides, providing wisdom and protection to their descendants.

In my own life, I have found that connecting with my ancestors, whether through family stories, historical research, or personal reflection, has been a source of strength and guidance. I remember sitting with my grandmother in the kitchen on Rosemont Ave right off of 7 mile in Detroit as she recounted tales of her parents and grandparents, having come from the French speaking areas of Canada,  painting vivid pictures of their lives and struggles. I did not know that some of my cousins were lumber jacks, I was very surprised to learn these stories were more than just family history; they were lessons in resilience, love, and perseverance.

But what about those ancestors we never knew personally? Can they still impact our lives? I believe they can. Consider the stories of historical figures who have inspired generations. Figures like Harriet Tubman, Mahatma Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela have become ancestors to us all, their legacies transcending bloodlines to touch the hearts and minds of people worldwide. Their courage and commitment to justice continue to inspire and guide us, much like the ancestors in our own families.

Have you ever tried talking with those who have gone before us? Whether they were people close to us or individuals we only read about on the front page of the family Bible, reaching out to our ancestors can be a powerful experience. This doesn’t necessarily mean holding a séance or engaging in spiritual rituals, although those practices have their place in many cultures. It can be as simple as reflecting on their lives, writing letters to them, or visiting places that were significant to them.

By doing this, we open ourselves to the wisdom and guidance they have to offer. We may find answers to questions we’ve been pondering or gain new perspectives on challenges we’re facing. Our ancestors, whether known or unknown, have walked paths similar to ours. If we ponder how they have faced adversity, celebrated triumphs, and navigated the complexities of life, we might get answers that have eluded us.. By connecting with them, we tap into a wellspring of experience and insight.

Moreover, acknowledging our ancestors helps us understand our place in the world. We are part of a continuum, a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives. Each of us is a link in a chain that stretches back through time and will continue into the future. Recognizing this interconnectedness can be both humbling and empowering. It reminds us that we are never truly alone; we carry the hopes, dreams, and wisdom of those who came before us.

As I said on Fridays blog post, with today’s fast-paced world, it’s easy to lose sight of our roots. We become so focused on the present and future that we forget the past. Yet, our ancestors are an integral part of who we are. They have shaped our identities, influenced our values, and laid the groundwork for the lives we lead today.

So, how do we honor our ancestors and keep their memories alive? One way is through storytelling. Sharing family stories, whether around the dinner table or in written form, ensures that the lessons and legacies of our ancestors are passed down to future generations. Engaging in cultural traditions and rituals can also help us maintain a connection with our roots. One of the things I am going to start doing is writing down some of the stories I have heard to remind me and encourage me.

Another way is through personal reflection and meditation. Taking time to contemplate the lives of our ancestors, their struggles, and their triumphs can provide us with valuable insights and inspiration. We can also explore our family histories through research, uncovering hidden stories and connections that enrich our understanding of who we are.

Our ancestors are more than just names on a family tree. They are a living legacy, a source of strength and wisdom that continues to influence our lives. By embracing our connection with them, we honor their memory and ensure that their stories and lessons endure. Whether through spiritual, cultural, or scientific lenses, recognizing the impact of our ancestors enriches our lives and deepens our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

This post is not about being woke……

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A journey through our Bias,

In this world that is becoming increasingly interconnected, the importance of diversity for learning, acceptance and finding a way to include cannot be overstated. Yet, despite our differences, we often find ourselves struggling to understand each another. This is where emotional intelligence and tools like the Enneagram can play a transformative role. By exploring the intersections of these concepts, we can enhance our appreciation for diverse perspectives and promote environments that include rather then divide. 

Let’s take a short  journey through a few stories that challenge biases, build cultural competence, and encourage reflection on our own assumptions. Together, we will discover how understanding different Enneagram types can help us foster peaceful communities rooted in inclusivity.

There is power in Emotional intelligence (EI) and its ability to recognize, understand, and manage our own emotions while also being aware of the emotions of others. It is a crucial skill in navigating the complexities of human interactions, especially in diverse settings. 

Consider the story of Maya, a team leader in a multinational company, who I have worked with. Maya was known for her exceptional emotional intelligence. One day, during a team meeting, she noticed that her colleague, Ahmed, seemed unusually quiet. Instead of pushing forward with the agenda, Maya paused and asked Ahmed how he was feeling. (This is one of the most powerful things you can do with another person, as we DO NOT know what is going on inside of someone else)

“Honestly, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted. “I’m the only one from my background in this meeting, and I sometimes feel like my voice doesn’t matter.”

Maya’s empathetic response opened the door for a deeper conversation about the challenges of being a minority in a predominantly different culture. By acknowledging Ahmed’s feelings, she not only validated his experience but also created a safe space for him to express himself. This moment of emotional intelligence fostered a sense of belonging and encouraged Ahmed to share his unique perspectives, enriching the whole team’s discussions. Another side benefit is that understanding another’s culture/life is a way to expand your own journey in ways that may surprise you. Lynette and I have traveled all over the world for work and although exhausting at times, changed our entire outlook on living life together with others and not living in a bubble.

Understanding the Enneagram  is a powerful tool for working with other personality types and the motivations behind our behaviors. It consists of nine distinct types, each with its own strengths, weaknesses, and ways of perceiving the world. By understanding these types, we can gain insights into how different individuals approach challenges, communicate, and relate to others.

By looking at the Enneagram through the lens of another story we can see how this works—this time featuring Sarah, a passionate advocate for diversity and inclusion. Sarah is a Type 2, known as the Giver. She thrives on supporting others and creating harmonious relationships. However, her desire to help can sometimes lead her to overlook her own needs.

During a workshop on diversity, Sarah met James, a Type 5, known as the Observer. James is analytical and values knowledge above all else. While Sarah was eager to engage in discussions about emotional experiences, James preferred to observe and analyze from a distance. Initially, Sarah felt frustrated by James’s quiet demeanor, interpreting it as disinterest.

However, as the workshop progressed, Sarah learned about the Enneagram and realized that James’s approach was simply different from her own. Instead of pushing him to participate, she began to appreciate his thoughtful insights when he did choose to speak. This understanding transformed their dynamic, allowing Sarah to embrace the diversity of thought that James brought to the table. And while Sarah admitted that allowing her normal thoughts to be more accepting was not easy the rewards were worth it.

Challenging biases through interactive stories can foster inclusivity, as we confront our biases and assumptions. Interactive storytelling can be a powerful tool for this purpose. Go with me as we imagine a scenario where you are part of a community meeting discussing a new initiative aimed at improving local resources. I have taken this scenario from the a mixture of countless board meetings I have been part of.

As the meeting unfolds, you notice a newcomer, Priya, who has just moved to the area. She shares her perspective on the initiative, drawing from her experiences in a different country. However, instead of listening, you find yourself dismissing her ideas, thinking, “What does she know about our community?”

Now, pause for a moment. What if you were to step into Priya’s shoes? Imagine the courage it took for her to speak up in a room full of unfamiliar faces. By reflecting on her experiences, you might begin to see the value in her insights. This exercise challenges your biases and encourages you to embrace diverse perspectives.

Building cultural competence is the ability to understand, communicate with, and effectively interact with people across cultures. It requires an ongoing commitment to learning and growth. 

I watched Maya, who decided to implement a cultural competence training program in her organization. She invited employees to share their stories and experiences related to diversity. One day, a quiet employee named Luis, a Type 9 known as the Mediator, shared his journey of growing up in a bilingual household. 

“I often felt caught between two cultures,” Luis explained. “I wanted to fit in with my peers, but I also cherished my heritage. It was a constant balancing act.”

Maya listened intently, recognizing the importance of Luis’s story. She encouraged others to share their experiences, creating a rich tapestry of narratives that highlighted the beauty of diversity. This initiative not only built cultural competence but also fostered a sense of community and belonging among employees.

**Reflecting on Our Own Biases**

Reflecting on our own biases as we navigate the complexities of diversity and inclusion, it’s essential to look at our own biases and assumptions. Consider the following questions:

1. What assumptions do I hold about individuals from different backgrounds?

2. How can I challenge these assumptions and open myself to new perspectives?

3. In what ways can I use my emotional intelligence to create a more inclusive environment?

By engaging in this self-reflection, we can begin to dismantle the barriers that prevent us from fully embracing diversity. 

**The Importance of Inclusivity in Fostering Peaceful Communities**

Ultimately, the importance of inclusivity in fostering peaceful communities is not just about creating a diverse environment; it’s about building those peaceful communities. When individuals feel valued and heard, they are more likely to contribute positively to their surroundings. 

Let’s back in with Sarah and James. After their initial misunderstandings, they began collaborating on a project that combined Sarah’s passion for community engagement with James’s analytical skills. Together, they developed a program that addressed the needs of underrepresented groups in their community. 

Their partnership not only strengthened their relationship but also created a ripple effect of inclusivity. Others in their organization began to recognize the value of diverse perspectives, leading to a more harmonious and productive workplace.

As we navigate the complexities of diversity and inclusion, let us remember the power of emotional intelligence and the Enneagram in fostering understanding and appreciation for one another. By embracing our differences and challenging our biases, we can create inclusive environments that promote peaceful communities.

Through these stories of empathy, reflection, and growth, we can inspire one another to become advocates for diversity and inclusion. Together, let’s embark on this journey, recognizing that our unique perspectives are what make our communities vibrant and resilient. 

In the end, it is our collective commitment to understanding and embracing diversity that will pave the way for a more peaceful and inclusive world. I also want to make sure that you understand the words “diversity” and “inclusion” are not dirty words. When we throw around words and they become commonplace we tend to look at them differently they were intended. Check out what the Pew Research Center says about people coming to our country since 1850. You might be surprised to find out they are your ancestors.

A Few Stories….

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I wanted to share a few stories of self-discovery….

In this world we find ourselves that is bustling with activity and constant distractions, finding a moment of quiet reflection can be challenging at best. Yet, I find the journey toward self-awareness is a rewarding path that had lead to personal growth and deeper connections with others. Through the series of stories below, we can explore how these individuals have embarked on their journey, using tools like journaling, meditation, and the Enneagram to uncover their true selves.

The Journal of Emily: Unveiling Emotional Triggers

Emily always felt overwhelmed by her emotions, especially in stressful situations. She decided to start a journal, hoping to make sense of her feelings. One evening, she sat down with a cup of tea and began writing about her day. As she wrote, she noticed a pattern: her frustration often stemmed from feeling unappreciated at work.

Through her journaling, Emily discovered that her emotional triggers were linked to her need for validation. This realization was a turning point I her life. She began to explore ways to communicate her needs more effectively, both at work and in her personal life. Sharing her insights with a close friend, Emily found support and encouragement, which helped her grow more confident in expressing herself.

David’s Meditation Journey: Finding Peace Within ( I find Davids journey like my own)

David had always been skeptical about meditation. However, after hearing about its benefits, he decided to give it a try. He joined a guided meditation group, where he learned to focus on his breath and observe his thoughts without judgment.

During one session, David was guided through a body scan meditation. As he relaxed, he noticed tension in his shoulders and a knot in his stomach. The instructor encouraged him to breathe into these areas, releasing the tension with each exhale. As he did, David realized that his physical discomfort was linked to his anxiety about an upcoming presentation.

This insight was profound. By acknowledging his anxiety, David was able to address it directly, rather than letting it fester and grow. After the session, he shared his experience with the group, finding comfort in knowing that others faced similar challenges. Meditation became a regular practice for David, helping him navigate life’s stresses with greater ease.

Sarah’s Reflective Discussions: Building Connections

Sarah was part of a community group that met weekly for reflective discussions. Each session began with a simple question: “What did you learn about yourself this week?” At first, Sarah was hesitant to share, worried about being judged. But as she listened to others, she realized that everyone was on their own journey of self-discovery.

One week, Sarah shared a story about a disagreement with a friend. Through the discussion, she recognized that her reaction was rooted in a fear of abandonment. This insight allowed her to approach the situation with empathy, leading to a heartfelt conversation with her friend.

The group became a safe space for Sarah, where she could explore her emotions and learn from others. The support and understanding she found there helped her grow more confident in her relationships, both with herself and others.

Exploring the Enneagram: Tom’s Path to Understanding

Tom had always been curious about personality frameworks, so when he heard about the Enneagram, he was intrigued. He discovered that he was a Type 3, the Achiever, driven by success and validation. This revelation was both enlightening and challenging.

As Tom delved deeper into the Enneagram, he realized that his pursuit of success often overshadowed his true self. He began to question whether his achievements were aligned with his values or simply a means to gain approval. This introspection led Tom to make significant changes in his life, focusing on authenticity rather than external validation.

Tom shared his journey with his Enneagram study group, where others were exploring their own types. Through these discussions, Tom gained new perspectives and learned to appreciate the diversity of motivations and fears that drive human behavior. The Enneagram became a tool for personal growth, helping Tom build more authentic relationships.

When you start on the Ongoing Journey of Self-Discovery you will be excited….

These stories can illustrate for you the transformative power of self-awareness. Whether through journaling, meditation, reflective discussions, or the Enneagram, each individual found a path to deeper understanding and personal growth. Their journeys remind us/me that self-awareness is not a destination but a continuous process of exploration and reflection. You WILL have ups and downs.

As you embark on your own journeys,  remember the importance of community and support. By sharing your insights and learning from one another, you can create a space of understanding and compassion, fostering personal growth and deeper connections with those around us. And together, we can navigate the complexities of this life with greater self-awareness and emotional intelligence.