It is close, but it does not go past the edge. The above paragraph is
a good rewriting of the thoughts expressed below.
http://www.resnet.org/solutions/virtualintegration/
The work we do spans industries, sectors, systems, global regions,
peoples, and organizations of the world. We like helping each
experience what Parker Palmer, in his book "Let Your Life Speak",
described as abundance: "Abundance is a communal act, the joint
creation of an incredibly complex ecology in which each part functions
on behalf of the whole and, in return, is sustained by the whole.
Community doesn't just create abundance--community is abundance. If we
could learn that equation from the world of nature, the human world
might be transformed."
http://www.kcnc.org/stories/storyReader$642
Summer: An Essay on Community
Where I live, summer's keynote is abundance. The forests fill with
undergrowth, the trees with fruit, the meadows with wild flowers and
grasses, the fields with wheat and corn, the gardens with zucchini,
and the yards with weeds. In contrast to the sensationalism of spring,
summer is a steady state of plenty, a green and amber muchness that
feeds us on more levels than we know.
Nature does not always produce abundance, of course. There are summers
when flood or drought destroy the crops and threaten the lives and
livelihood of those who work the fields. But nature normally takes us
through a reliable cycle of scarcity and abundance in which times of
deprivation foreshadow an eventual return to the abundant fields.
This fact of nature is in sharp contrast to a human nature, which
seems to regard perpetual scarcity as the law of life. Daily, I am
astonished at how readily I believe that something I need is in short
supply. If I hoard possessions, it is because I believe that there are
not enough to go around. If I struggle with others over power, it is
because I believe that power is limited. If I become jealous in
relationships, it is because I believe that when you get too much love
I will be short-changed.
Even in writing this essay I have had to struggle with the scarcity
assumption. It is easy to start at the blank page and despair of ever
having another idea, another image, another illustration. It is easy
to look back at what one has written and say, "That's not very good
but I'd better keep it, because nothing better will come along." It is
difficult to trust that the pool of possibilities is bottomless, that
one can keep diving in and finding more.
The irony, often tragic, is that by embracing the scarcity assumption,
we create the very scarcities we fear. If I hoard material goods,
others will have too little and I will never have enough. If I fight
my way up the ladder of power, others will be defeated and I will
never feel secure. If I get jealous of someone I love, I am likely to
drive that person away. If I cling to the words I have written as if
they were the last of their kind, the pool of new possibilities will
surely go dry. We create scarcity, be fearfully accepting it as low,
and by competing with others for resources as if we were stranded on
the Sahara at the last oasis.
In the human world, abundance does not happen automatically. It is
created when we have the sense to choose community, to come together
to celebrate and share our common store. Whether the "scarce resource"
is money or love or power or words, the true law of life is that we
generate more of whatever seems scarce by trusting its supply and
passing it around. Authentic abundance does not lie in secured
stockpiles of food or cash or influence or affection, but in belonging
to a community where we can give those goods to others who need
them-and receive them from others when we are in need.
I sometimes speak on college campuses about the importance of
community in academic life, one of the most competitive cultures I
know. On one such occasion, following my talk, a man stood in the
audience, introduced himself as occupant of the "Distinguished
Such-and-Such Chair of Biology" and began what I thought-given his
rather pompous self-introduction-would surely be an attack. Instead,
he said simply, "Of course we must learn to live in community with
each other. After all, it is only good biology." Biology, the
discipline that was once driven by anxious metaphors like "the
survival of the fittest," and "nature red in tooth and claw," has a
new metaphor-community. Death has not ceased, of course, but now it is
understood as a legacy to the community of abundant life.
Here is a summertime truth: abundance is a communal act, the joint
creation of an incredibly complex ecology in which each part functions
on behalf of the whole and, in return, is sustained by the whole.
Community not only creates abundance-community is abundance. If we
could learn that equation from the world of nature, the human world
might be transformed.
Summer is the season when all the promissory notes of autumn and
winter and spring come due, and each year the debts are repaid with
compound interest. In summer it is hard to remember that we had ever
doubted the natural process, had ever ceded death the last word, had
ever lost faith in the powers of new life. Summer is a reminder that
our faith is not nearly as strong as the things we profess to have
faith in-a reminder that, for this single season at least, we might
cease our anxious machinations and give ourselves to the abiding and
abundant grace of our common life.
By Parker Palmer |
