Tending the Collective Soil
the ecosystem of how things work over here + some invitations!
As always, I want to invite you into choice around these words.
Content notes: This piece has brief mentions of the war in Sudan, the pandemic lockdown, and June 2020
Tending the Collective Soil
the ecosystem of how things work over here + some invitations!
I’ve enjoyed geeking out a little lately learning more about the different types of ecological relationship. For the purpose of this piece, these feel relevant:
symbiosis: a close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each other
synergy: the combined power of two or more things when they are working together that is greater than the total power achieved by each working separately
mutualism: a relationship between two or more organisms in which both benefit
Sensing integrity in-person
I love being in a physical space that feels like an extension of the person who created it: like there is no discernible edge between them and the place. Where there is a felt energetic flow of integrity that runs through the placement of things, the care with what has been brought into the space.
The barbershop I go to feels like that. Posters plastered over the walls. Those old-school flyers with the contact details cut-and-ready to rip off and fold into your wallet. A welcoming sense of dissenting playfulness mixed with equanimity, that shows in my barber’s smile, in the way nothing matches yet makes complete sense, in the loudness of the music, in the fast-pace, in the way everyone gets their time and care, the way every haircut costs the same amount.
I love how my barber weaves social justice into their work, how they close the shop so they can attend to community responsibilities, how they talk to everyone the same. If something was kicking off in the street outside, I know they would stop mid-haircut, rest their hands on my shoulders and say, “just a second”, and they would go to the door to see how they might help. To me, they feel like an embodiment of “Do no harm but take no shit.”
Being in spaces like that inspire me for my own work. Getting to witness the flow of integrity at play in someone’s offerings, the consistency of how they express who they are in the world and why they do what they do.
If Everyday Writes was a physical space, you’d be offered a drink while I excitedly show you the t-shirt designs I’m working on, tell you what Karkadeh is, show you the hibiscus buds that inspired the project. You’d smell sandalwood and maybe spot the swifts from the window. You’d notice how the Palestinian flag and the Sudanese flag look almost the same, and how the green is the same as the leaf of a pothos when the sunlight shines through it. You’d catch the drift of the podcast or music that’s playing. You might spot the gigantic monstera next to the altar and sense, like I do, that the ancestors are taking care of that plant. You might learn which of my books are what Lama Rod Owens calls “wisdom texts”. You’d see the scrolls of paper where I sketch out ideas for workshops. You’d notice how there’s soft stuff everywhere and space to pace and dance. There are quirks you’d probably make fun of me for.
Just like I do when I step into the barbershop, you’d get a sense of the climate, the reasons, the ecosystem.
From physical space to online
It’s a different thing playing with this in a virtual space.
Much of what I’m exploring within my work and life is:
It feels like a non-negotiable act of care to try to create cues of rest and warmth and relative safety for those I’m in relationship with. How do I also bring this to online space?
Many of us have been navigating our own version of this these past years, and I want to bring in a specific experience I had of this transition, that feels important to name.
When the first lockdown happened, my then-partner had just re-opened his café and shop… we had poured time and love and energy into the physical space, and suddenly we had to figure out how to translate those intentions into an unfamiliar online realm, how to care for community across distance. We realised pretty early on that it wasn’t about the products on the shelves, that there was an ecosystem that had to be tended to, that this was an invitation to do things completely differently. There were a few factors at play:
1. We had things - plants, coffee, artwork, chocolate, candles, cards, self-care products, ceramics - things that might brighten someone’s day.
2. Some people were feeling financially resourced or in a position to give.
3. And many people knew someone who was feeling isolated, exhausted, abandoned.
.
The Gift It Forward project which we stewarded into the world, and which our online community embraced and sustained, continued for about two years through a generative cycle of nominations and donations. Every time the fund was empty, a donation came in. I spent much of 2020 wrapping care packages with fabric and flowers and a note and a playlist and posting them out to strangers. I don’t really know how to articulate the emotional significance of this project. If you were part of it, you know and thank you. For me, it was such a source of faith, surprise, trust. A successful experiment in mutualism. How something that begins online can have a life and logic and impact between people who will never meet in person, beyond materialism.
And because we had already spent a few months tending the collective soil, by the time June 2020 came round it felt like less of a leap (although still scary and risky to me) to begin to write about racial harm, because we had already been scattering the seeds of a culture of reciprocity and respect and equity. So, in some ways, the Gift It Forward project opened a portal to a different type of courage for me. It’s why I’m still writing here.
This experience of experimental and sustained collective care in action is foundational to how I do things now and what I know to be possible in community, both in-person and online.
Everyday Writes as ecosystem
For me, the practice of moving away from individualism includes sharing a little more of the full picture. Sharing some of the ways we invite relationship, how we partner and collaborate, the ways we access community holding, how ideas are birthed, how we need to ask for help. None of it is a solo endeavour.
I’ve always thought of Everyday Writes as a little ecosystem.
Maybe from the outside it’s hard to keep up. I don’t write here often, so I imagine that things can seem to move quickly from idea to happening. We don’t usually see the seeds germinating for years, the different ways ideas are nourished, all the tending that happens alone and collectively behind the scenes.
When I’ve been interviewed for podcasts about the work I do, or am speaking to someone who wants to move towards self-employment, I often find that people want to know the hows and the details: “but what does that look like in practice?”, “what’s the structure?”, “what’s your process?”, “what do you mean?”
This post is a little like opening up an animated 3D (4D? 5D?!) pop-up book to show you what’s inside, what’s flowing over here. Imagine there are cogs, clanking diligently. That you can see the weather systems moving across the pages. That the laws of physics and spacetime don’t apply here: things seep through and rip and parts of the pages braid together. And there’s a whole piece that has made itself into a paper aeroplane and is zipping around having a grand ole time. Parts of the book are speaking to each other in Arabic. There’s a texture to the pages that makes you think something is living beneath it, communicating through movement, not yet ready to bloom.
This is how things work…
Experiments in Mutualism within Everyday Writes
First things first, my capacity to sustain my offerings in the world is held within friendships, solidarity, rest, practice & play! If we’ve had a conversation, if we’ve shared a meal, if we’ve been in an online space together, if you’ve left me a voicenote, if you’ve posted a comment, if you’ve shared a poem or a podcast or resources, if you’ve taken care of my kid or given me a lift somewhere… however we’ve met each other through our words, ideas, energies, enquiries or support are part of the ecosystem. Every offering here is sustained through interdependence. There is no way I would be able to continue to hold space for people alongside my other caring responsibilities if it weren’t for loving relationship in all its forms.
And what’s also true is that I have sole responsibility for how I spend my working hours, what I undertake and how I choose to do it, how I communicate these offerings, how much energy I commit to this ecosystem and, in general, whether or not shit gets done!
Within this ecosystem, there are some north stars (the rules of spacetime don’t apply so there can be multiple north stars): one-to-one coaching makes up most of my practice; I’ve facilitated 70 gatherings of the fortnightly BIPOC group; this newsletter has lasted.
And, this ecosystem has space to evolve (has had to evolve), to follow interests, to slow down, to take breaks, to adapt to what’s emerging, what community members need, the skills I’m learning, what catches my attention, the collaborators I’m in partnership with. There are new projects and offerings that come and go.
This ecosystem needs places to let it all come through (the love, the grief, the rage, the ideas), and places to hold it all. There are things the collective can hold that an individual cannot hold alone. And there are things possible in one-to-one settings that cannot happen in groups.
Including Sudan in the ecosystem feels like living into wholeness, feels like living in integrity with my heritage, with the complexities of diaspora. Being in creativity, dreaming and solidarity with collaborators around the realities there means that I can sustain play within my work.
There are obvious ways that mutualism shows up within this little ecosystem, like the invitations to Gift It Forward within the pricing structure and the invitation here to Buy Me A Coffee. And there are those interdependent relationships that might not be obvious:
by feeling and naming my grief around Sudan, within a regular grief-solidarity dreamspace group, I can move beyond helplessness, to bring creativity and generative energy to my fundraising collaborations
part of the money I receive from one-to-one coaching currently funds the hall hire and refreshments for the in-person group I co-facilitate, so that it can be free at the point of access
growing relationship and community (through one-to-one coaching, group gatherings, workshops, substack writing, creative responses) nurtures spiritual connection to lineage, ancestors and descendants, that infuses everything else I do
.
Ecosystem is more than values, more than money (and it’s also those things, too). It’s you telling someone your family doesn’t have access to water, and them adding a mermaid figurine to their altar. The ecosystems I’m interested in have space for spirit, to not know how it will work but to trust that it will.
.
loved ones = trees
practice = moss
rest = water
community = earth
ancestors = air
and and and
Here’s how I make sense of it:
Asking for Help
What I’m learning most within these experiments in mutualism is that it’s really not about me. It’s a collective effort. We impact each other in ways we’re not even aware of. The ripple effect of kindness, the power of presence. We’re always observing each other, taking it in, receiving inspiration, responding to each other. Our relationship here might be one of reader/writer, you might drop in here regularly or you might decide it’s not for you. We might be connected in practice or friendship or community beyond these pages. Because you’ve read to this point, you’re part of the ecosystem. I’m glad you’re here.
And so, to invitations.
Within everything I’ve shared, at this moment, I have some specific invitations for you. One of the enduring practices of my lifetime is asking for help (urgh), and I need some help here. Help to bring more energy into the vision. Help to make the offerings sustainable long-term.
Do any of these invitations feel right-sized for you?
Here goes.
Invitations into ecosystem!
I run an online Introduction to Embodiment workshop series. New dates just launched! Some free spaces are available. You can choose from a multiracial or QTIBIPOC setting. Would you like to come? Book here!
Not interested in the workshop series but use Instagram? I don’t use social media. Please will you tell your people about it, by posting this Story image with the booking link on your Stories?
Link to copy and paste: https://everydaywrites.com/collections/workshops
Would you like to help fund the in-person monthly group I run, where BIPOC people of all ages can rest and play? It’s the group I wish I had as a kid, which is still needed now. You can donate towards the costs here.
Are you a visual artist or poet? As part of my project ‘Karkadeh’, I’m collaborating to create and sell merchandise via Everpress, to raise money for my family in Sudan as they rebuild their lives. Would you like to find out more? I’d love to hear from you, please send me an email to info@everydaywrites.com!
Did something move you within this article? It took me ages to write. To support me to rest, read & play, so I can continue to hold space for people as a coach & facilitator and keep these words coming… Would you like to buy me a coffee?
Thank you for being here within this ecosystem. I really appreciate you.
The visioning and fathoming needed to write this piece was made possible by: the world’s biggest monstera leaf, dreamy dreaming, Zoom, August sun on marigolds, always the goalie, and an Oliver Jeffers book read aloud.
Big love, til next time,
dia