an open space story

[Birgitt Bolton]

Yesterday, I had another experience of being completely humbled in Open
Space. Humbled by the beauty, the power, by what happened, and by the
privilege of being given the gift to do this work. A story that I would
like to share with those of you in our community of Open Space.

After a very early pre-dawn start to my day, both to get myself readied and
to drive the hour to the meeting space, I entered the meeting room with its
large circle of chairs, microphone in the Centre, greeted by the anxious
and eager faces of the organizers. I too was both anxious and eager.
Anxious because I wondered if my energy would hold well to conduct a five
hour open space in the morning for one group of people and another five
hour open space meeting in the evening with another group. Split that way
to accomodate shift workers and other needs of the health service
organization I was working with. We were expecting about 70 people for each
of the meetings and were not at all disappointed in the turnout as the day
progressed. I was eager because the meeting was being conducted for a group
of folks, their families, and some professionals who were clearly
disempowered, disadvantaged, disabled. It was my belief that they would use
Open Space well, that they would find their way through the instructions
and the principles, that they would not be sidetracked by any feelings of
disempowerment as they came forward with their passion and their
responsibility.

These were folks with Acquired Brain Injury and those who journeyed with
them in their lives. The theme was about the future of the organization
that they received care from. I had met some of them in the last few weeks
as I interviewed them to prepare for this day and the balance of the
organizational transformational work we are trying to do together. People
who had had skiing accidents, diving accidents, car accidents leaving them
with brain injury that usually resulted in months of being in a coma, years
of rehabilitation as they learned to walk and talk again, usually against
the wisdom of doctors who said they would not make it. Some did, some did
partially, and others didn't. People like you and me except that during one
instant in time an accident had happened, changing their lives
completely.Every case of acquired brain injury is different, but almost all
drastically effect short term memory, personal control in the present
moment, and emotions. Almost all of the people I met were incredibly
bright, well aware of their accident and the lost parts of themselves.
Individual grief was deep as I heard the stories of "you should have seen
me before my accident, I was a cheerleader or I was captain of the football
team". And stories of friends that deserted them, long periods of waiting
to get into any treatment, and the tears over not being treated as persons
anymore.

I opened the space in the usual way, and as I asked the people to cast
their eyes around the circle and look at each other, look at each other as
though for the first time, look at the wisdom in the room, I looked too---I
looked at the wisdom in each one of those faces, I looked at the canes and
the wheelchairs, the arms that wouldn't unbend, the legs turned inward--and
I saw the incredible uniqueness and beauty of each of these people. And
then my emotions got in the way, my eyes and heart wanted to cry at the
losses they had.At their pain. The tears were saved for later as I
remembered that I had a sacred responsibility to open and then hold the
space for them. And we did just that. Twenty two sessions went up in the
morning, thirty two in the evening. People with brain injury, family
members, and professionals all led groups. I had mentioned in the opening
that some people might not be able to read or write or get a paper from the
floor, and if they couldn't it was important for a neighbor to help them.
Help just unfolded. Only one woman had a bad moment. She was right beside
me in the centre putting down her topic. She was two words into it when she
couldn't remember how to spell. Her face looked up at mine and there was
real upset there. After the moment of upset, with no hesitation she said "I
can't spell any more". So I bent down to fill in the words that she
wanted--they were all running around in her head--they just couldn't go out
through her hand. No one was too shy to put up a topic. I  did not
intervene in any way in the break out rooms.There was the usual amount of
chaos at the wall. Leadership happened just as it does in open space.
Discussions were fruitful. Strategic directions were worked on. The book of
proceedings is incredible and rich and the group had the wisdom to make the
exactly right recommendations to the organization for this point in time.
Another agency would have paid a team of consultants for data and
recommendations that were not nearly this good.If they hadn't asked these
folks who were most involved and did in fact have the wisdom, which could
get expressed in a process that let them get there.

For sure, people had to be a little more patient with each other than they
might otherwise, as sentences were forgotten midstream, or persons said
their sentence for the fourth time in a row because they couldn't remember
having said it before.Behind all this, there were exceptional thoughts.

Truth to tell we had a backup at the computers that was worse than usual
and there was sure extra work for me at the computer station as I adjusted
to the several varieties of laptops and coached people in how to use them
(those of you who know I was totally computer phobic until two years ago
might have loved to witness this particular scene. I who still know so
little about computers giving directions to people who trusted me to know
what I was doing. Funny thing though, when someone approaches me with that
much trust, I usually am able to deliver because I can't let them down).
The good news was that we took a little longer because so many of the folks
with brain injury insisted on inputting their own reports after having led
their groups. They wanted to see the whole process through, they were so
excited.

My energy held up until the way home letting me know it was possible to do
two Open Space events in one day.. My tears happened on the way home and
while they were tears of sadness, they were mixed with tears of pleasure at
what had happened. If anyone ever says Open Space is not for those who are
disempowered or are shy or are in the group with someone who has power over
them I intend to tell this story as one of the most powerful ones I have so
far about empowerment, wisdom, running with passion and responsibility in
the face of all sorts of barriers. And I will tell those people the words
of the one older man in a wheelchair in the closing whose clawlike hand
wrapped around the microphone and he spoke in a voice that couldn't get
above a whisper and his eyes glimmered because he had really taken it all
in and really loved the process and being recognized for wisdom for the
first time in twenty years and his whispered words were simply "thank you
very much. This was good". And I will tell the story of the man who came to
me at the end and pointed to the paper on the wall that listed the four
principles. He said "I like those. They were what Tolstoy was getting at in
his writings but he didn't put them quite like that". I had to ask him to
repeat himself. He was telling me that although he couldn't read like that
now and surely not remember because of his injury, he used to love Tolstoy.
And Tolstoy had three big questions for life. And the four principles
answered them. I told him that a man named Harrison Owen had written them.
He asked if Harrison had ever read Tolstoy. I said it was likely. He had me
repeat Harrison's name six times, each time repeating after me. He said he
wanted to remember, to add the name of another great man to his memory.

With respect for the process and the great work we are permitted to do,
Birgitt Bolton