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The In-Between

The In-Between

Navigating transitions – personal, professional, societal – can be tricky work.

So often when we find ourselves in that liminal space – the space in-between where we were and where we’re going – we want an answer. We want a clearly defined destination, proof that we won’t languish in the in-between forever.

We want certainty that everything will be ok.

Part of this is because liminal spaces are often filled with uncomfortable emotions; loss, grief, uncertainty.  Sometimes in-between spaces are also unstable, financially and socially, generating fear and anxiety.

It’s natural that we want a way through and beyond these experiences.

But another part of why we resist them is that we often think they hold less value than the spaces that come before and after.  That they’re a ‘holding point’, more than an alchemic space, and if we can just get where we’re meant to be going, the problems will be solved, solutions found and Hey presto! Everything is fixed!

But liminal spaces can’t be rushed.

Often in the liminal our old beliefs have been stripped away, we’re made to reckon with our identity and our views of the world.

They’re a time of gestation, allowing us to arrive to the other side expanded, renewed and hopefully with a larger embrace of the world than we had before.

The question better asked of liminal spaces is not how quickly we can exit them, but how deeply we can inhabit them.

How willingly we engage in the process of letting go, of holding lightly what is close to us, and accepting what is unknown, and unknowable.

Because we’re all navigating transitions; careers, relationships, landscapes, seasons, houses, bodies, identities, politics.

Societally, climate change has already determined that we will transition – whether we do so willingly or not, and whether to something more beautiful or not.

And what lays before us is born not out of the past, but out of how deeply and honestly we can inhabit the space in between.  

So if you find yourself navigating a liminal space right now, here are some reflection prompts to help:

  1. What’s asking to be held a little lighter?
  2. If nothing in my life were to change, what qualities would I need to develop to embrace and welcome the space I’m in?

Laura x

PS: Want support navigating transitions in your life? Learn more about my coaching work here. 

Resting When It’s Hard

Resting When It’s Hard

If you’ve been reading my work a while, you’ve probably heard me talk about internalised capitalism: the equation of our worth with our productivity or with what we produce.

You see, capitalism is built on three principles:

1. The pursuit of infinite growth on a finite planet (#climatecrisis).

2. The artificial creation of scarcity, to drive said growth.

3. The devaluation of beautiful, living, complex systems to lifeless resources. (Think jungles, or the forest, or even our own bodies).

When we live inside a system where these principles are normalised, we internalise this message in a myriad ways… one of the most obvious being that feeling of never doing enough, and struggling to rest, unwind or take time off.

I got a friendly reminder of this the other week when I woke up a few hours before my 26 hour flight to Australia, horribly unwell with Covid.

Now, I was lucky.  My airline was willing to cancel my flights and give a full refund, and I was able to rebook for a few weeks later.

So all I had to do was rest… simple, right?

Except – like many of us – those thoughts crept in…

All my emails! Surely I could send a couple today.  

I haven’t written a newsletter! I was going to do that on the flight.

I need to reschedule those meetings! My diary has completely changed.  

OMG, resting is boring. Also, the house really needs cleaning – I could clean, right?

It’s so unprofessional to change all these bookings… what will they think?

Round and round and round.

Different variations, some more anxious, others more sad, all telling me that there was work to be done, and yes I’m sick, but not that sick that I couldn’t do the things.

Once, I would have believed these voices. (I remember years ago, on my fourth bout of tonsillitis in as many months, chomping down painfully on steamed broccoli and hitting the gym because no sore throat and fever was going to keep me down! Besides, I was doing healthy stuff right?!)

This time, I offered myself the grace of rest.

I’ve spoken a lot lately about how the work of “Getting Free” is a practice. It’s not a one time event or single moment, but the active choosing of who and how we want to be.

It’s letting go of all those “shoulds” and stories of urgency, and honouring the truth of this moment.

I heard those voices, those stories, those “shoulds” telling me that things are urgent! And aren’t you bored?! And are you even that sick?! and chose to offer myself the medicine I needed.

It wasn’t that I didn’t hear these stories… it was that I chose not to invest in them.  

I know what happens when I do (#burnout #illness #exhaustion)

Instead, I chose to offer myself the rest and ease I want for all of us.

To stay on the couch, under the duvet, and leave my out of office on a couple days longer than I even needed.

Now, not all of us have the privilege to be able to do this.

I was raised by a single mother who for a long time did not have the resources or support to take a day, let alone a week, off.  But I also know that so often even once we have the privilege to do so, that we struggle with the practice.

There is no virtue in ‘keeping busy’ or ‘pushing through’ though. Morality, goodness and worth are not attached to how much we do.

And as changemakers, whatever it is that we want for the world, we must be willing to offer it to ourselves.

This is how we seed change into existence.

So if you’re in need of a little rest this week, or this virus creeps up on you soon too, here are a few reflection prompts for you:

 

1. What does your body want right now? Sleep? Water? To stay inside or go out? Note, notice your bodily sensations and feelings when asking yourself what you want. There’s a difference sometimes between what our mind wants, what we desire, and where our body is at.

2. What’s the worst that could happen from putting on the Out of Office this week and just being?  Is this thing truly more important than your health and wellbeing?

3. Can you offer yourself the grace of being human? Of being a living, breathing being that needs food, water, sleep, care and rest?

Love & courage,

Laura

The Third Way

The Third Way

 Text; The third wayYears ago, I had a conversation with my therapist around accepting certain family dynamics as they were.  

You see, I’d been living in a paradigm that allowed only two options; tolerate what was intolerable, or resist, fight it with everything you’ve got.

And what I hadn’t known was that there was a third way.

There was the potential to step out of that paradigm altogether, but it would require a radical acceptance of what was.

And I’m not going to lie: I struggled with this.  

I wanted things to be different so bad.  I felt they should be different – that things as they were just weren’t right.

But, with great compassion, she pointed out to me that I could go on wishing, hoping, insisting that life – and other people – should be different, staying stuck in the stalemate of arguing with reality.  

Or I could surrender my fight with what is, and see what emerged from total acceptance.

Now I wish I could say that things changed overnight, but – like all meaningful work – acceptance is a practice.  

And with acceptance also came grief and a certain, intangible kind of loss.  

But I came to understand that acceptance didn’t mean there was no potential for change, or that I wouldn’t still desire or enjoy a change.  

Rather it meant that my wellbeing and sanity were not dependent on things changing.  

That some things were what they were no matter how loud I insisted they shouldn’t be.

And through acceptance – through the third way that wasn’t tolerating the intolerable or fighting what was – that I could allow real change to occur.

Because from acceptance comes agency, power and creativity.  

From acceptance comes freedom.

To choose who and how we want to be.  

To choose how we want to respond and engage.

To live our values and to act with intention, care and precision.

It’s through acceptance – not resignation, not tolerance, not resistance – that we create the conditions for life’s myriad possibilities to unfold.

It’s in the third way that we can stop fighting paradigms, and transcend them.  

So if you’re in need of a little acceptance today, here are my prompts for you:

1. Where might I confuse acceptance with tolerance or resignation, and how might they be different?

2. What do I feel if I sit with this moment, right now, surrendering the need to fix or change? What space opens up?

3. What might be different if my actions were rooted in acceptance?

Laura x 

Hope in an age of despair

Hope in an age of despair

Hope is a practice.

It is the stubborn commitment to believe in possibilities that we cannot yet see.

And in times of despair, we need hope more than ever.

But I’ve had so many conversations this week about hope; hope that seemed impossible to find, or naive to believe in.  

Hope that lived slightly out of reach.

There was worry, what if I hope and things don’t turn out? What if I’m wrong? What if my heart breaks?

What if I’m seen as naïve or idealistic? What if people scoff?

There was despair; fear and pain pushing hope into the distance.  

Refuge sought in cynicism and armour.   

Guards at our heart to protect from disappointment.

The dull, bitter ache of apathy more tolerable than the sharp pain of life. 

But I believe in the power of hope.

Not a naïve positive thinking, detached from the pain of the world.

Not an innocent longing, that knows nothing of struggle. 

But a hope that is grounded in potential.

That knows there is a field with myriad possibilities; ones we may never see or touch but that nonetheless still exist.

I believe in a hope that is less feeling, and more practice. 

So, if you’re in need of a little hope this week, I invite you to explore these practices.

1. Beauty-Making: The practice of finding or making beauty wherever we are.

Maybe it’s in the clouds, the sky, the birds or flowers. Maybe you can help make it through art, an act of kindness, a delicious meal.  Maybe it’s a sunset or the lake at dusk. 

Hope and beauty are close friends.  Where can you find beauty today? How can you make it?

 

2. Imagine. Imagination is the lovechild of hope. If possibilities exist, what might they look like? What ‘third way’ can we find? Can we allow ourselves time to dream, play and create? 

 

3. Grieve. Hope is not detached from reality; we cannot feel hope without the fullness of our emotions.  And while hope often looks dark from the midst of grief, grief in an age of despair is a sign of our humanity.  It is the consequence of our love, and to offer it ritual and honour is part of what makes hope possible.  

 

4. Look backwards. We often think of hope as a forward looking thing – and it is.  But sometimes we generate most by looking backwards. 

Where in our lives has change seemed impossible?  Where has it happened anyway?

Where throughout history might change have seemed impossible? Where has it happened anyway?

Who have you thought to be impossible of change? How might they have changed anyway?

Life is made of possibility.

 

5. Surrender.  Part of our struggle with hope is our need to see the outcome.  Our need for things to be a certain way. Our need to not be wrong, to know with certainty that things will turn out – often with a nice, neat arc and ending.

We confuse hope with control, hope with certainty, hope with knowing, hope with a fixed ending, hope with utopia, hope with relief, hope with the end of anxiety… each time missing what hope really is. 

Because hope, at its most raw, is the willingness to live in a story that is not yet complete.

A story that we are not the only author of. 

And a story that never really ends.  

Laura x 

Hot Take: Leadership Is Not The Same Thing As Power

Hot Take: Leadership Is Not The Same Thing As Power

Hot take.

Just because you’re in a position of power, doesn’t mean that you are a leader.

A common misconception we hold is that leadership means the same thing as being in a position of seniority or power.

You know – managers in organisations, or politicians, or the person up the front with the mic.

A vast swath of the internet will call these ‘positions of leadership’ when really they are just positions of power… and I think we’ve all known people in these positions that we wouldn’t call leaders.

We also confuse leadership with control.

With certainty.

That leaders should know what they are doing, and where they are going at all times.

That there’s a binary of leaders and followers and we should all want leaders, or want to be leaders.

That what we need in this time must be more leaders.

But what if our whole story of leadership in this culture was wrong?

What if leadership was about visioning and seeding the world we want?

What if leadership was a co-creative field?  What if it transcended the binary, and required participation and consent?

What if the qualities of leadership were divergent?

What if leadership required relinquishing control; surrendering?

What if leadership required the willingness to be lost?

The way I define leadership is this: the ability to follow an inner compass, with wisdom and courage, for the shared benefit of the whole.

I keep this definition intentionally broad, because in an uncertain, destabilising world, we need a whole new understanding of leadership. 

We need a leadership that is generative. 

Regenerative.

Curious.

And willing to walk in the spaces we haven’t been yet.

And that’s not going to look anything like what comes up on Google.

Want to explore how you can embody regenerative leadership?

Laura x

Gracious Limits

Gracious Limits

This is a Guest Post by Carol Wilson, the Founder and Transformative Conversation Guide for Table Grace which seeks to create space for life-giving, transformational conversations, story-sharing, and resourcing for individuals, families, small groups, congregations, and communities. For more information, contact CarolWilsonTableGrace@gmail.com.

Gracious Limits by Carol Wilson[1]Steve Hartman recently shared the story of 89-year-old Allen McCloskey in an On the Road segment for CBS News. Mr. McCloskey’s neighbors described him as a “special guy” who is “out there to help everybody.” Steve Hartman said he would make a great candidate for kindest American. 

In the segment Mr. McCloskey was surprised by his hometown of Galveston, Indiana with a dinner in his honor and the presentation of the Guinness World Record for longest career as a gravedigger as he is now in his 71st year.  He doesn’t want to retire because he wants to make sure that the graves are dug carefully with square corners and with care for the persons affected by his work.  In addition, Mr. McCloskey is known for doing thousands of odd jobs across the years and is especially known for never sending a bill.  When Steve Hartman asked him about this, he just laughed.  Steve Hartman described Mr. McCloskey as unassuming in persona and profession and yet a bold beacon for anyone in search of meaning.  One of his neighbors said it best: “Allen has figured out what life is about.  It’s not the money that makes him happy. I truly believe Allen has figured out where enough is at. He’s found enough.”

In a course on Cultural Wayfinding, we discussed the concept of internalized capitalism.  It’s the shaping of our way of being by the priorities of capitalism and is experienced as a sense of urgency, scarcity, and never being enough. In my small group, we discussed it as the air that we breathe that leaves us feeling exhausted, unsettled, and always pushing through life.  Our course members are seeking to identify the cultural systems that shape us so that we can name them, see them, feel them, and then make conscious choices about how we participate in them.

Long ago I was introduced by a professor to gracious limits, a phrase I have carried and shared with others across the years.  When I first heard this concept it was contrasted with complete freedom, which is often seen as the desire of the human heart.  Yet, this professor suggested, complete freedom is chaos.  Without limits, we don’t know what is enough, where we are safe, where to stop, and how to recognize consequences for going too far.  Gracious limits, by contrast, let us know the playing field, the boundaries that give us security to know that within the recognized limits we can move freely and without worry or anxiety.

Gracious limits is an image I’ve often shared with persons who were entering into a role of supervision or with parents who were seeking to guide their children.  Until our conversation on internalized capitalism, I had never applied it to the limits and grace we give to ourselves to thrive. It was an aha moment to recognize that naming the limits of my time, ability, and energy isn’t being less than I “should” be.  Taking time to breathe, to rest, to reflect, to replenish is what gives all of us the space we need to be able to maintain our sense of self, our freedom to make choices, and to reduce the anxiety that tends to generate a desire for control over our life circumstances or over the lives of others.

Internalized capitalism has led me to believe that our worth comes from productivity, our importance comes from busyness, and that even our personal experiences are defined in terms of limited resources. How fascinating, then, to meet Mr. McCloskey who has “found enough.” Here is a man giving generously to his community, who is beloved and generating good will, who chooses to continue his work because of its value to him and to others and who is known for his kindness. He moves slowly, he speaks deliberately, he is unassuming in his expectations of others.  This life he models is one of generativity, of breathing into the world a spirit that leads to compassion and connection. Mr. McCloskey knows what is his to do and the gifts he has to offer.  There is a grace in him that seems to guide his choices and shape his interactions. In stepping out of urgency and lack, he has found ways to give generously and joyfully. He embodies what gracious limits look like, not restrictive, but freeing to receive and share, to work and rest, to care and receive care. 

As Steve Hartman closed his segment over pictures of Mr. McCloskey receiving hugs and sharing laughter with his community, he offered this summary: “Strange thing about finding enough, you often end up with more than enough.”  Gracious limits set us on the path to the freedom of enough and recognizing what really matters, a gift to ourselves, our community, and all creation.

Carol Wilson

Table Grace

August 10, 2023

Reflection Prompts:

  • Share how you experience the internalization of capitalism in your daily life. Notice the “shoulds” that you carry with you and the stories and drivers behind them.
  • Share a time when you experienced rest or a sense of enough. What did that feel like in your body? What did it sound like in your way of speaking?
  • What is one step you can take that moves you toward the freedom of enough and recognizing what really matters?

[1] “Local Hero”, On the Road with Steve Hartman, CBS News Sunday Morning, August 6, 2023.

Shame, Power & The Patriarchy

Shame, Power & The Patriarchy

Shame has been wielded as a method of control for centuries.

It’s been taught to women and queer folx about our bodies & their sizes or shapes, our sexuality, our personality (Too loud? Too bossy? Too quiet?), our mistakes (“not good enough” syndrome).

It’s leveraged for power everywhere from meeting rooms to magazines.

But what happens when we internalise that shame? When we believe it to be true, and so disconnect ourselves from our authentic needs and desires?

I was travelling in Mexico earlier this year with my partner, and we took a day trip out to the Yaxchilan ruins (which, by the way, are amazing and if you’re in the region, I recommend).

The guide was wonderful and full of knowledge, but about halfway through the day, as we were climbing the never-ending stairs that Mayan ruins consist of, he turned to me and said something along the lines of: “You should lose weight, or you might have a heart attack. It’s not hard, you know?”.

It stung.

It also took a moment for me to realise he was talking to me, because I knew my physical capabilities were more than enough for what we were doing (which gets missed when we carry implicit beliefs, as he did, about how certain bodies should behave or act). 

Now, I knew his intentions weren’t malicious, and so I tried to brush his comment off as we carried on to the next site.  We had an hour to free explore this time, and before long I found a place I was content to sit peacefully.

To bathe in the stillness that was palpable there.

But then the thoughts started creeping in… What if he thinks I’m too unfit to climb these ruins, and that’s why I’m staying here? What if he thinks I’m lazy? What if EVERYONE thinks you’re lazy or unfit?

And so I started to climb.

It was at this moment I realised…. I’d believed a story of shame, and stepped away from my authentic needs and desires. I’d given away my power.

I wasn’t operating from a place of desire, truth or authenticity. I was operating from a place of shame, perfectionism and self-judgement.

Now, the guide had no idea what was happening – none of this was his intention. He’s also one person, and I’m not holding him up as a figurehead of the patriarchy.

But my response was symbolic.

I felt ashamed for the size of my body, not its capabilities.  In response I believed that shame, and started acting out of alignment with my authentic desire, hoping to fill (or exceed!) somebody else’s expectations.

And so I want you to think today about the ways shame stops you from being in your power.

Where do you hold yourself to unnecessarily perfectionistic standards?

What idea do you have that just ‘isn’t ready yet’?

What dream or creative interest do you put off because you’re not ‘ready’?

Where do you prioritise what you are ‘supposed‘ to do, before what you desire to do?

I believe part of remaking the world means connecting with and honouring our authentic selves.

Because as long as we’re living someone else’s story, handing our power away to an external force, we can’t create thriving lives or communities.

You Are Not The Problem

You Are Not The Problem

We live in a world that individualises and otherises systemic problems.

You’re exhausted from working 40+ hours a week, maintaining relationships, cleaning the house, feeding the kids, walking the dog, starting a side hustle or leaning into creative pursuits?  Culture will say that’s you, and you should work on your wellness routine to improve resiliency. 

You’re overwhelmed by the state of the world?  Show up for protests or community events but can’t help but feel anxious and low key terrified of climate change?  Can’t face another day in the news? Yep, culture says another you problem.  You gotta learn better boundaries, or you know, maybe care a little less because you can’t fix everything.

Caught in cycles of perfectionism? Feeling never good enough? Thinking everyone’s soon going to catch on to the fact you don’t know anything and have totally winged your way into this role and OMG #impostersyndrome? That can’t have anything to do with a culture that sells us scarcity and leverages shame for patriarchal power!

(Don’t even get me started on topics like climate change or asylum seeking policies…. individualising and otherising systemic problems is political gaslighting 101)

Now, don’t get me wrong: looking inward is necessary and important, and perfectionism/self-shaming does have roots in trauma, personality & family dynamics. 

My message isn’t to just blame culture, lay back powerless and say “ahh, yes, the problem isn’t here, it’s over there, nothing I can do!”.

It’s to say that our power lays in learning to look both inward AND outward.

To build our sense of agency and resiliency, to know, care & love ourselves, but also to recognise that we’re all products of a toxic system.  

And when we learn that the problem isn’t us, it’s culture, it gives us a wider sphere to work from.

it gives us agency, and the power to hand back the stories that keep us stuck. 

To stop our endless quest to ‘fix’ ourselves, and instead unlearn all the ways the world has said you are not enough, or your actions can’t make a difference. 

Our job as Changemakers is to see the water we live in, so that we can transform it.  

To become free enough to reimagine it. 

Powerful enough that we dare to create it.

Trusting of our intuition and body-knowing to follow our next best step. 

Are you ready?

We live in a world that individualises and otherises systemic problems.

You’re exhausted from working 40+ hours a week, maintaining relationships, cleaning the house, feeding the kids, walking the dog, starting a side hustle or leaning into creative pursuits?  Culture will say that’s you, and you should work on your wellness routine to improve resiliency. 

You’re overwhelmed by the state of the world?  Show up for protests or community events but can’t help but feel anxious and low key terrified of climate change?  Can’t face another day in the news? Yep, culture says another you problem.  You gotta learn better boundaries, or you know, maybe care a little less because you can’t fix everything.

Caught in cycles of perfectionism? Feeling never good enough? Thinking everyone’s soon going to catch on to the fact you don’t know anything and have totally winged your way into this role and OMG #impostersyndrome? That can’t have anything to do with a culture that sells us scarcity and leverages shame for patriarchal power!

(Don’t even get me started on topics like climate change or asylum seeking policies…. individualising and otherising systemic problems is political gaslighting 101)

Now, don’t get me wrong: looking inward is necessary and important, and perfectionism/self-shaming does have roots in trauma, personality & family dynamics. 

My message isn’t to just blame culture, lay back powerless and say “ahh, yes, the problem isn’t here, it’s over there, nothing I can do!”.

It’s to say that our power lays in learning to look both inward AND outward.

To build our sense of agency and resiliency, to know, care & love ourselves, but also to recognise that we’re all products of a toxic system.  

And when we learn that the problem isn’t us, it’s culture, it gives us a wider sphere to work from.

it gives us agency, and the power to hand back the stories that keep us stuck. 

To stop our endless quest to ‘fix’ ourselves, and instead unlearn all the ways the world has said you are not enough, or your actions can’t make a difference. 

Our job as Changemakers is to see the water we live in, so that we can transform it.  

To become free enough to reimagine it. 

Powerful enough that we dare to create it.

Trusting of our intuition and body-knowing to follow our next best step. 

Are you ready?

Seeing the Water

Seeing the Water

Have you heard this David Foster Wallace story? There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys! How’s the water?”

And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”.  

It’s great, right? I think we can all relate to it.

Most of us grow up in environments where we’re not taught how to see the water and yet, it’s one of the most valuable skills we can have.

The water, depending on context, can be many different things.

It can be as small as family dynamics, or as big as capitalism & patriarchy. 

One of the first ways I learnt to see the water was travel.  I spent a lot of my 20’s backpacking, and I was fortunate to go places as diverse as the Colombian Amazon to the Wakhan Valley to the Arctic Circle of Norway. 

My family could never understand my love of travel so much (particularly to more remote places), but as someone with a non-traditional education, it became a form of learning for me.

Travel taught me the many different ways of being human. 

It showed me patterns. 

And it taught me how to see the water. 

Because in each of these places I saw the patterns of our interconnection.  The shared love we all have for our communities & family, music and art, our shared questioning and searching for something divine. 

But also the patterns & interconnection of injustice.  

The burning of the Amazon isn’t an isolated problem of South America. It’s directly tied to a global economic system (ahem, #capitalism) that requires infinite growth, that is founded on our disconnection from the Earth and each other. 

The suffering of Afghanistan and the surrounds is not a ‘them’ problem. It’s directly tied to neocolonial policies and power politics of the global north (which are founded on the same belief patterns of patriarchy, capitalism & white supremacy). 

And the struggles many of us experience in day to day life, and consider normal – that’s right, I’m talking about burnout, perfectionism, shame-cycles, imposter syndrome – are not actually normal.

They’re a product of a toxic culture, that likes to individualise and otherise systemic injustice.  

As changemakers, I believe our work is in learning to see the water of our culture, and learning to recognise patterns. 

Travel’s one way, but it’s not the only one. 

We can all practice this by asking the right questions. 

Who benefits when I’m burnt out or exhausted?

Who or what goes unchallenged?

What pattern might there be here, where can I see this story in culture? 

Seeing the water is the first step to Getting Free. 

From there, we can learn to hand the story back. 

To steward our power.

And lead our communities from the world as it is to the world as it could be. 

Kingian Nonviolence

Kingian Nonviolence

Kingian Nonviolence & Conflict Reconciliation

The principles, steps and model for change. 

“Now Bernard, the next movement we’re going to have is to institutionalise and internationalise nonviolence.” – Dr Martin Luther King to Dr Bernard Lafayette Jr shortly before his assassination.

 

Dr Martin Luther King

Kingian Nonviolence

Kingian Nonviolence is a model of nonviolent conflict reconciliation, influenced by the philosophy & teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King and the organising strategies of the US Civil Rights Movement.

While non-violence is often seen as the passive, non-reaction opposite to violence, Kingian Nonviolence takes a different stance, seeing true nonviolence as the active resistance to systems of harm and injustice. 

It focuses on the transformation of conflict, rather than its management. 

Bringing value to activists, changemakers & organisations, it offers a wide lens view of conflict and violence, and how we can all be part of its transformation. 

The Six Principles

Principle One: Nonviolence is a way of life for courageous people. Nonviolence is not passive non-resistance to injustice. It’s active, vocal and rises to the occasion.  Nonviolence can be applied to all areas of our lives, and is a path for the courageous to challenge the social inequities of our culture. 

Principle Two: The Beloved Community is the framework of the future. Relationship is the foundation and the glue of social transformation.  It is what we must always be striving for. The Beloved Community is one in which all life can flourish, and conflict can be reconciled without violence. 

Principle Three: Attack forces of evil, not persons doing evil. Or rather, we look upstream to focus on systems and root causes rather than individual actions or players.  To paraphrase an Extinction Rebellion principle, we are all products of a toxic system, and no one individual is to blame. 

Principle Four: Accept suffering without retaliation for the sake of the cause to achieve a goal.  Embracing suffering is not the same as martyrdom or victimhood.  This principle speaks to the importance of sacrifice, and recognising that when we willingly embrace suffering, we can also channel its powers of redemption, moral shame and transformation.  

Principle Five: Avoid internal violence of the spirit as well as external physical violence. Nonviolence isn’t just about our external actions, it’s also an embodiment in our thoughts, words and actions. The ways we treat ourselves matter as much as we treat others, and if we’re to end the cycle of violence, we must also end the violence within ourself.

Principle Six: The universe is on the side of justice.  That there is an underlying value of nonviolence, aligned with universal principles.  The Golden Rule within all the world’s great religions points to compassion, nonviolence and justice.  For the nonviolent leader, this principle recognises that nonviolence is both the means and ends, and that we make the path by walking. 

The Six Steps of Kingian Nonviolence

 

Better understood as cycles, rather than checkpoints, the steps of Kingian Nonviolence are not linear, and during a campaign or action may not always go in the order listed.

  1. Step One: Information Gathering Understanding and determining the facts, the options at hand, and the urgency of change.  This is a collective process, informed by a variety of sources, and always those most impacted by injustice.

Step Two: Education Developing strong, honest, articulate leaders who are informed on the issue and options.  This could include community conversations, media liaison work, and outreach roles.

Step Three: Personal Commitment This requires the nonviolent leader to examine their internal and external commitment in the action and campaign, including how long change may take.  This means assessing the very real risks involved, the ‘why’ for joining, and understanding what can be offered.

Step Four: Negotiation This is where the conflict is ‘formalised’.  Negotiation is held with the opponent, with the intention of arriving at a just outcome.  If negotiation is not successful, step five – dramatic direct action – is employed. 

Step Five: Dramatic Direct Action Nonviolent direct action, or civil disobedience, is the tactic for when negotiations ave failed.  This could include protest, sit-ins, strikes, road-blocks, boycotts and more – but all within the framework and principles of nonviolence.

Step Six: Reconciliation The closing step, and often the most missed.  When the both sides can come together after the conflict, with joint leadership to carry change.  The step that cements the formation of the Beloved Community.

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