If a tree falls in Rutland VT... will the lights ever go on at CCI?

So, Vermont. I went. I attended a conference sponsored by CCI-USA. Co-counseling is something new to me. After doing a lot of work on my...stuff in therapy- on the yoga mat- in silence and in screaming- I was ready for a new way to look at myself- and the way I do things. And I met my teacher, Fred. To give you an idea of how radically different Fred's approach to working on yourself is to what I'd experienced with my therapist: Fred was as much like my therapist as Sigmund Freud was like Yoda. And in his way, as brilliant a teacher by his openness and his belief in letting everyone be exactly as they are and revelling in their themness. And by being absolutely, gloriously, Fred.

After two intensive weekends of training (the course to co-counsel can take as long as 16 weeks- I fast-tracked- no one who knows me will even be a little surprised.) I was "ready to co-counsel". That was what Fred told me. But Fred also takes a lot of pictures of his feet (so do I- I have no idea what this means except maybe we share a common...let's call it an eccentricity- lovable, but just a bubble off plumb). I took it with an open heart and....well, a New Yorker's cynicism.

A bit about co-counseling from the CCI-USA website (http://www.cci-usa.org/index_2.htm) : CCI Co-Counseling is a distinct process which provides tools and techniques for healing and transformation. It is a simple, effective peer process for personal growth and on-going wellness. CCI co-counseling skills offer a structure to establish a safe environment for this exploration within a culture of validation, support and encouragement.

What this means is you say nice things about other people. If you have been reading this blog- you may imagine this was challenging for me. For years I have taken Alice Roosevelt's quote as my personal by-words "If you can't say something nice, sit next to me." My wit was honed at the feet of Dorothy Parker and Oscar Wilde. My edge makes the Ginsu knife look like a safety scissor. But the worst part, and one of the most basic and important parts- you have to say nice things about yourself. And believe them. Think it's easy? Try this. Say something good about yourself, out loud. Like "I'm Phil and I'm a people person" Now try something harder "I'm Phil and I'm good at my job" Now go way inside- find the thing you always always wanted to be and never believed you could be- "I'm Phil and I'm...." When you say this one- when you can finally say this out loud- you will tremble inside- and likely tremble outside as well- your voice will crack, or drop as you say it. If it doesn't- you aren't quite there yet. If your world's not rocking- it will be. And that's just the teaser.

So. The beginning of this process made little fissures and cracks in my psyche- and true to form if the psychic map says "beyond this place there be dragons"- I am the first one on the boat, my tin-can armor clanking and rattling my saber shouting "Let 'er rip! You can't scare ME- you are just a PROCESS! I can do this!!"

And I found myself on Amtrak headed to the woods. As there was only 1 train to VT from NY daily I chose to arrive the day before. A nor'easter had hit New England the night before I left NY, dumping 18 inches of snow on Rutland accompanied by 75 mph winds. My train was fully two and a half hours late arriving and there were 3 functioning lights in all of Rutland as we pulled in (at 5 mph- manually throwing switches from Fairhaven to Rutland- a 20 minute leg of the trip that took an hour and a half). Sadly none of the working lights were TRAFFIC lights. The rest of the town was blacked out. But there, beaming on the platform, happy as an ant at a Baptist picnic, was Fred.

The inn we were to be staying at also had no power- and no water (read here: no toilets no showers...) so we spent the night before the conference at a Comfort Inn. You can get an OK breakfast and a bed at a Comfort Inn- and they had lights and water... but they were a bit short on serenity and well- it was about as enlightened as a biker bar. Still Fred and his convention co-planners Peter and Marc handled it AMAZINGLY well for three people who spent a year meticulously planning an event at a country inn- the only way I can describe how I would feel in this situation is to say that it would be like getting proposed to by your long-time love- at the Wal-Mart.

Tuesday morning Fred and I drove up to the inn- phones there were still not working- and as we drove up- as we moved along the road- the lights came on as we drove by. We laughed about being powerful enough to change a dire situation by our mere presence but inside I was more than a little wowed. Often I see the glass as half full- with something unidentifiable floating in it- and here- well it was just short of amazing. Still I wrapped my NYC 'tude tightly around me and ignored the slight tinkling of wind chimes whispering inside my head.

And the lights stayed on- and the games began. For me it was the 7th grade all over again. Of the 85 people attending the conference, I knew five, kind of. And it seemed to me everyone knew everyone else- for a really, really long time- there was an unimaginable amount of kissing and hugging and... everyone was incredibly joyful- and comfortable and - I so wasn't. I curled into myself and tried very hard to relax into the dozens of hellos and warm hugs as people greeted me-"the newbie".

I didn't know how to fit in. I didn't know how to just be there- yet there I was. Lots of folks welcomed me at meals and invited me to eat, swim or walk with them. The rituals - candles and gatherings reminded me of camp- and how I felt as an outsider watching it, wanting to make fun of it, and at the same time wanting very much to feel some part of it...

I am sitting here trying to remember the moment I was, part of it- and I really can't. But when people take you in, and truly welcome you, sit in front of you and show you all of themselves- the deep hidden hurt places and the elated joyful places- when they look at you with openness, and trust relentlessly- even the shell on this tough city cookie starts to soften... and
when I came up against someone who really pushed every button I ever had- and several I never knew I had- and I told them so (this is called an ID check) and then realized I faced my fear of confrontation and triumphed over that fear- and became elated that this woman was as flawed as I am- and got even MORE elated and then realized with a gasp- she IS me- and my heart melted when I recognized her pain, fear and that all her "stuff" is pretty darned close to my own- and
I started to learn a little about compassion. There is no room for anger there- and no desire for it- I couldn't hate her and still love myself. And I can't love myself and not love her as well.

Simple right? Yep... (nope).

And yet it was. I talked to so many people. Hugged them. Questioned and affirmed life with them. And hung out in the hot tub. And traded recipes. I led a workshop and got to talk with women about their feelings around the stages of our lives and how we each pass through time and femininity. I learned I do not walk that path alone- not hardly. And twirling and dancing in the middle of a line dance and falling on my ass-in a skirt no less- and learning that embarrassment does not always maim- that people can love you for your human-ness. In the midst of all this support did my first-ever (and second-ever) cannonball into the pool. It only took fourty-some years. I learned to be glad I had done it so soon instead of lamenting my years of fear that water would go up my nose and I would drown. If you have ever wanted to do something-really wanted to- and been afraid and beat yourself up for it- stand in front of a bunch of people who do nothing but tell you how terrific you are- and get brave enough to whisper "I'm me and I'm terrific". It's kind of like flying. Maybe better.

And the end is in the beginning. As we packed to go home I stood with Fred, and the most lovely and temperate wild woman Chris, and Nieck and Joke from the Netherlands as luggage and pillows were jammed into Fred's station wagon- and sending extra luggage ahead with friends who would drop things at Fred's house. And discovering that we had sent Fred's wallet, cel phone, and the keys to his car- ahead as well. If you want to test an entire "culture of validation" try getting a locksmith at 3 pm on a Sunday in Rutland, VT. We stood in the parking lot of the inn talking- drinking bottles of cold water, and I for one was grateful to get to spend some time with Joke and Nieck, both of whom are deeply involved with CCI in the Netherlands and throughout Europe- check out their newspaper- CCI World News Service (www.cciwns.com) and the Netherlands CCI site (www.cocounselen.nl) I never would have met them- never. Fred's keys allowed me that. As we stood by the car Fred looked up at me- who knows what was on his face- I know I would have been really pissed at myself. He lifted those big eyes to me and said "I'm Fred and I'm SO Fred." I love him so for that.

And thank you Mitch- for hours and hours of laughter and effortless synchronicity. Thank you David for the dance. And Susan for the crown. Dinah for the moon. Rich for the hand holding. Peter for teaching me Soduko on the hood of your car- honoring your promise to me- it meant more than I can say. And Louise for calling me quiet. And every person I came into contact with- you all touched me- and people who have known me all my life will tell you- that's not an easy task.

Because I still have an edge, you know- it's just a wee bit softer.


:) X