Body Maps

Several of you have written to me - offline - to ask, "What the heck are body maps?"

I used them as the "point of activity" during the three-day retreat on Narrative Leadership I lead for the interns who are part of the Episcopal Service Corp Program known as Newark ACTS.

I chose 'body maps' for several reasons.

First of all, I think we are growing more and more disembodied as a people in a church which professes to be incarnational. We don't always remember the mind-body-spirit connection. We forget that our bodies have great wisdom.

As I learned from a very wise Hawai'ian woman named Auntie Margaret:

Your mind can play tricks with you.
Your heart can deceive you.
Your body never lies.

Auntie Margaret is a kahuna - a spiritual healer - from whom I first learned the process of forgiveness and reconciliation in the art form known as ho'oponopono.

Auntie Margaret incorporates deep massage when she does a ho'oponopono session because she believes that we carry our stories deep in the muscles and sinews and joints and bones of our body.

In massaging the body, Auntie Margaret teaches, we are better able to locate and then release, if necessary, the places where our stories need to be unlocked and unleashed so that we can find healing and reconciliation.

No, we didn't do massage, but I wanted to take the first step in helping the interns tell their stories and locate where they might be residing in their body through a process of relaxation and guided meditation.

We began by getting large paper rolls of table covers and laying them down on the floor. Then, each person took a turn laying down on the paper and having another intern trace the outline of their body on the paper.

After each aspect of Narrative Leadership I was presenting, we stopped and located the stories on our body map and drew them in, symbolically or with letters or words.

As you can see from the pictures I've posted, some of them really got into it. Others, not so much.

It wasn't that they didn't like it. In fact, I think most of them did - if nothing else than the fact that I shut up for 15-20 minutes and they could just doodle on their body maps.

Some were, well, shy about their art.

"But, I can't draw," they would moan.

"That isn't the point," I'd say.

Even though they knew that, it was still difficult to engage in a visual art form when you believe that you can't express what you're thinking and feeling in an aesthetically pleasing way.

Blessed are those who are willing to risk for the sake of learning, for they will receive their reward. 

More to the point, the purpose of the exercise was to be more in tune with their bodies and the message their bodies give to them. Like, when they find themselves saying,

"It makes me sick to my stomach." Or,

"What a pain in the neck!" Or,

"It made me grit my teeth."

I hope this exercise will help them explore the metaphor their body is giving them as a clue to the stories that contain those emotions and where they may be found in their bodies.

Why? Well, because one of the important aspects of being a good leader is knowing yourself and being connected to your own story - and, in fact, stories. 

I happen to think that our bodies are very wise and can help us find the resources and tools we need to dive deeper into our spiritual wells and surface as better Servant Leaders.

A good leader is a good listener.

We need to be able to listen to our own cries before we can hear the cries of the people we are called to serve.

You know. So we can get our own "stuff" out of the way and listen to what's really going on.

You know. So we can serve by leading. In community.

I'm not going to answer all your questions about that in this wee post. It would take me three days of a retreat for you to understand it all. Or, at least, begin to understand.

My hope is that, having a body map will make the journey into self-knowledge and deep wisdom a bit less formidable, helping a generation of Servant Leaders become more of who God is calling them to be and what God is calling them to do in this world.

Well, at least ten of them.

In the Newark ACTS Project.

Of the Episcopal Service Corps.

One body map at a time.

Retreat: Narrative Leadership

Cross Roads Conference Center, Port Murray, NJ

I won’t be blogging much for the next few days. I’m leading a three-day retreat for a group of 20-somethings know as the Newark ACTS Interns. These are ten young people, ages 22-26, fresh out of college, who know that they want to stay in the city and work for Jesus.

To be absolutely honest, I’m absolutely terrified.

Oh, I’ve done retreats before. Lots of them. Usually Friday night and all day Saturday.

I did a one-day retreat for last year’s Intern’s group. That was one day. I thought that was enough. Turns out, one of the Interns from last year is doing another internship year. He and a few of his classmates said that this year, the whole Fall retreat should be with me.

I’m so glad they have that confidence in me, but truth is, I’ve never done a three-day retreat. With anyone. Ever before.

So, there’s that.

The thing of it is that this age group is my absolute favorite group. I love 20 and 30-somethings. Which is why I’m terrified.

What I love most about this age group is their curiosity and quest for learning. I love the fact that they have a very keen instinct for bullshit, which is accompanied by zero tolerance for it.

No one can sniff out a phony like a 20 or 30-something. They see. They know. If what you say doesn’t come from a place of truth in you – if it isn’t authentic – if it doesn’t have any integrity – well, you’re sunk.

Now, anyone can pull that off for a few hours. Even a day. But, three whole days. Well, that’s whole ‘nother story, isn’t it?

So, part of the reason I’ve been asked to do this retreat is because of the work I’ve been doing on Narrative Leadership. It’s really about looking at the stories of our lives and listening deep for the stories in the lives of others so, together, we can enter into a co-creative process of living into God’s unfolding story for the world.

I first came upon this idea years ago when I was in West Africa. We were way in the north of Ghana – in a remote village outside of Tamale – where there is an even greater paucity of what we euphemistically call “modern conveniences”.

You know, like running water and electricity.

Indeed, one of the villages I visited consisted of mud huts with thatched roofs. I thought I was in a middle of a picture right from the pages of National Geographic. Little naked kids running around. Women pounding grain. Women walking the dirt roads carrying 40 gallon cans of water on their heads and bundles of branches on their backs and suckling infants strapped on the front of their bodies.

I went with some of the women to see the newest modern device – a gift from a church in America – which was the cause for great joy. A pump had been installed at the well, so no longer did women have to lug heavy buckets from the bottom of the well before they dumped them into the 40 gallon barrels which they carried on their heads. Now, through the miracle of modern engineering, they could simply push down on the handle of the pump and – voila! – there was water.

I marveled with them and their joyful laughter as one woman gathered us all around and – like a miracle no one grew tired of seeing – paused a bit and looked wondrously around at us before she began pumping the handle. A few pumps later and – great gasps, and ooohs and ahhhs – water began flowing.

Everyone applauded!

As we talked about this miraculous sight, I began talking with one woman who awaited her turn at the pump while others engaged in their own conversation. I allowed as how we didn’t have such a thing in my home.

Oh, she said, how can this be? You are American, right?

Yes, I said, but in America, most people have faucets and sinks.

She looked confused. What is this, she wanted to know.

So I explained that every home has water that is piped in from our own wells, or from a common water source.

Her reaction surprised me. She was once part amazed and one part sad.

So, she asked, you do not have to go to the well for your water? No, I said. We just simply turn on the faucet and the water flows out.

Now, she looked perplexed, but wanting to be polite, she kept her silence.

What is it, I asked. What’s wrong?

And, that’s when she stunned me. Well, she said, clearly feeling sorry for me, if you do not go to the well for your water, how do you tell your stories?

Imagine! Here was this woman living in abject poverty, without benefit of “modern conveniences” and she was feeling sorry for me!

I’ve come to understand that listening deeply to each other’s stories is one of the key components of leadership. Our best tools of leadership are curiosity and deep listening – to the other as well as our own stories.

Truth be told, I’m both terrified and excited by what I’m about to learn from these 10 young people. What I know about the human body is that, whether one is frightened or excited, the body’s reaction is the same.

Adrenaline begins to pump. The hands get sweaty. Your pulse increases as do your respirations. The thought process is either cloudy or heightened and your perception of reality changes.

Fear or excitement will do that to the body.  It is your brain, however, that decides whether or not to be afraid or excited.

It's a choice.

So, I’m choosing excitement.

But, a few "arrow prayers" headed my way wouldn't hurt, you know?

As that quintessential storyteller, Garrison Keillor would say, "Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch."