Holding On

By Curtis Ogden

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford ~

Over the past couple of days, while co-offering IISC’s The Masterful Trainer course to a group of remarkable and committed individuals in the social sectors, I was struck time and time again by the endless growth opportunities that training provides the trainer (or at least this trainer). While this came up explicitly a few times in group conversation, there was another private one raging inside my head.

The older I get, the more room there seems to be for self-doubt and second guessing. I recall the interview I read a few years back with the musician Sting, in which he said that while on the one hand with age he gets more nuanced and accomplished in his craft, on the other hand the less confident he becomes. This can seem quite counterintuitive, at least given some of the myths that swirl around out there about the correlation between wisdom and experience. Of course, you don’t have to read much spiritual or psychological literature to realize that wisdom is not an absence of fear or doubt, but rather a full embrace of these, along with an ability to avoid being pulled under.

Intellectually I get this. Feeling it, actually entering into the fray, is another thing all together. Indeed, the challenges can appear formidable. As your awareness grows of the seemingly endless number of routes to take in creating an experience for others, how do you make choices, remain steadfast enough in your selection not to waver, and then be open to adjusting when and if you realize another route is better? How do you enter a space understanding that participants may project things onto you that have nothing to do with you or the moment you collectively inhabit, without shrinking or calling them out? How do you pay close enough attention to body language and facial expressions as indications of participant needs without taking them personally and becoming distracted? How can you do any and all of this while remembering who you are and remaining true to yourself?

How do you locate and hold onto that elusive, seemingly delicate, yet abiding thread?

That is the work.