Blog

The Space In Between

by Jennifer Trom
Office Manager

I keep looking at the dot, that little mark taking up space between be and longing, that has inserted itself into a perfectly fine word. No one asked this little dot to show up in the middle of belonging, yet here it is, taking up space – even more space than some of the letters.

During the season of Advent 2022, the Guild’s staff offered weekly personal reflections on the Guild’s 2023 theme – be•longing. May they draw you into deeper reflection on the theme and how you experience it in your life and body.

This dot is marking the Space In Between, and this space demands attention.

What does it mean to be between be and longing? Why does this space exist? Can I just skip over it?

Or, what if the space in between is vital to living? What if I think of that little dot as the starting point? What if that little dot represents me, my center, my core, my soul?

(But, I protest, I would prefer a linear process with a respected guidebook to pass through the space in between. I like to consider myself a planner, after all.)

What if embracing the space in between is how I can fully immerse myself into the experience of being human? What if the space in between is where we can both be and long in the midst of discomfort, uncertainty, more questions than answers, where the only thing to do is to simply be, even while longing for things to change?

I felt this discomfort as I stared for two long days at my blank painting surface last spring during the Guild’s Spring Sacred Arts Week. Breathing through the stress of trying to plan a painting, I was encouraged by the faculty to ask questions instead, to reflect on my self, my soul. At the end of the week, I had more than painted; I had explored the space in between and experienced the richness of discovery that time brought to me. And the painting is one of my favorites.

And now, I am in the midst of caring for a loved one who is suddenly, inexplicably, very ill. The worry and the exhaustion that comes with this leads to many, many questions. Is this the beginning of the end of their life? Am I doing enough to advocate for their care? Am I ignoring reality because of what I long for? How do I love them even more if they recover after I’ve imagined their death?

This space in between is rich with thoughts, feelings, memories, and questions. This space touches the be and the longing and influences them both at the same time; past is present and everything in between. There is nothing linear about this space. Marked by a simple dot, the space in between is a whole world in multiple dimensions. Like a drop of water containing thousands of living organisms, this dot, this space in between, is complex.

So, I breathe. I recenter myself in my body, I imagine my self in the dot, dropping into the space in between. As I breathe, I can find peace with the unknowns. As I breathe, I can respond to what is rather than what I wish were true. Here, in the space in between, I can simultaneously be and long. The space in between is full of grace.

Longing

by Julia Hubbard
Acting Co-Director

This afternoon when I opened our frozen mailbox on River Road, an envelope from my high school best friend was waiting for me. When I opened it I was surprised to find a letter written by my twenty-one-year-old.

self, listing desires and hopes that my then-future self might embody. I had entirely forgotten that I had written something of the sort! Most of the letter was a structured list of value statements like “being purposeful in my actions” and “practicing the act of saying no” (I have always been a “yes” person). I want to find peace in knowing myself and being comfortable with the person I am. I want to learn something every day, look around and find joy in the small things, laugh about mistakes, and cry about hardships. These “wants” – these hopes – were numerous, touching on all sorts of facets of my life. But many of them focused on the importance of connection and of prioritizing relationships. Today, as a thirty-something, it strikes me how consistent that focus has been these last 11 years. Relationship – to self, to others, and to my environment – has been a place of deep motivation, and of deep longing. And yet, I wasn’t able to fully articulate this longing within my letter. Then, and now, my day-to-day is often filled with a classic question – “what do I want?” As I’ve grown older, I’ve found another question – “for what am I longing?” – that goes deeper, closer to the heart space. My longing for relationship wasn’t apparent or fully known to me at twenty-one, but – with care and tending – it is clearer to me now.

It took – and continues to take – patience and waiting. The writer Rebecca Solnit reminds me of the richness and fullness that lies waiting within those unknown spaces: “Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.” She continues (in my opinion, nodding towards the work of the Guild), “It is the job of artists to open doors and invite in prophecies, the unknown, the unfamiliar; it’s where their work comes from, although its arrival signals the beginning of the long disciplined process of making it their own.”

And so I am grateful for spaces and people that draw out my longings from my own unknown depths. And for those unknown depths themselves, with all of their possibilities. May I have the patience and attention to continue nourishing those deep spaces, and to listen for deep longings within them.

Be

During the season of Advent 2022, the Guild’s staff offered weekly personal reflections on the Guild’s 2023 theme – be•longing. May these reflections draw you into deeper reflection on the theme and how you experienced it in your life and body.

By Ian Miles
Kitchen Lead, Communications Assistant, and Cat Dad of Two

This year I’ve been drawn to learning about Buddhism and Buddhist practices of yoga and meditation. I’ve held an interest in such practices for years, but have been inconsistent in my commitment to them. Right around the start of this year, I began to maintain a regular yoga practice, and in the past month or so have been building a dedicated time for meditation into my daily routines. I’m blessed to be able to practice among the wondrous pines, mountains and river here at the Guild, exchanging admiring glances and peaceful greetings.

As most people do, I began these practices caring for my Self: treating my mind and body as sacred tools in need of honing. I felt the physical and mental benefits of regularly moving, stretching, balancing and relaxing into my body. I began to find that in highly stressful moments, when frustration and anger started taking hold, I could pause, take a deep breath, and release the ways in which those feelings were not serving me. I’ve begun reading books about, or heavily influenced by, Buddhism. And as my practice grows, so does the scope of why I do it and who it is for.

How could yoga and meditation, which are, in Western practice, touted primarily (and at times, exclusively) as forms of ‘self-care’, become a practice for the betterment of humanity? This is something I try to ask myself every day. Kate Johnson does an incredible job tackling this question in her book Radical Friendship, in which she explores the ways Buddhist thought and practice can inform and transform our relationships with one another and, consequently, society as a whole. One of the base tenets of Buddhism is the recognition that we are all connected through our experience of suffering, that we all attach ourselves to various forms of suffering, and that we all possess the ability to liberate ourselves from suffering. That ability is our capacity to be in our lives – fully, intentionally, lovingly. Being – without attachment to what we want, or aversion towards what we don’t want. In this fuller sense of being, I can easily believe in a sense of belonging for everything and everyone. And yet, in our infinitely complicated world, the seemingly simple act of being is no easy task. We are constantly bombarded by endless external forces. Finding the Self, and connecting with others can be exhausting! But I find that as I am drawn continuously into the present, into my own Being, into relationship with others, I am filled with hope and trust and love for the world. I am assured of my belonging to this world.

A Garden of Gratitude

(a reflection by Ian Miles, Kitchen Lead)

Though winter came a little early this year in the Plain Valley, we appreciate the time we had to savor the splendid autumnal color spectrum: clear blue skies, leaves of many hues, and mountaintops glazed with snow. The gardens that nourished us all summer long (and well into fall!) are slumbering under their snowy blankets. In this season of giving and of thanks, we look back with gratitude towards those who took part in the task of nourishing others.

For those who cleaned, planted, and cared for the beds in the Guild’s garden, we are grateful – Helen Walsh, Leesa Broker, Mike Caemmerer, and Signora Armstrong.

For those who helped pick berries, beets, and green beans at Snowgrass Farm towards the end of the growing season, we are grateful – Callie Mabry, Mary Hoffman, and Ping Zheng.

For those who operate Snowgrass Farm and Hope Mountain Farm, supplying the Guild with an abundance of fresh greens, produce, and berries grown just down the road, we are grateful – Jenny Bourgeois and her incredible staff, Ruth Ann + Larry.

I’ve always marveled at the power of food in forming relationships, bridging cultures, and filling us with comfort and strength. It’s been a great joy for me this season to continue to see that power in play. This was the first time I’ve been able to see exactly where the food I cook comes from, who grows it, and even harvest it with my own hands. Deepening that connection with food makes it all the more clear why there is such power in sharing it. From seeds in the ground to meals on the plate, there is so much time and effort, so many hands and forces at work, that are all felt, in some unknowable way, with each bite.

For all who have, currently, and will gather around our tables, we give thanks.

Life in the Neutral Zone

(a post-internship reflection by Katie Endres)

This ground is sacred, and the people I’ve met have been, hands-down, the best part of my summer – I have met such incredible people! Over these past ten weeks, I’ve met people from all over the country. I’ve been able to participate in a community that is intergenerational, vulnerable, and expressive. I’ve met various masters of their craft and witnessed how they teach students that range from beginners (like myself) to masters themselves. And I’ve been able to participate in and learn from a person-centered staff and volunteer team that values dialogue and teamwork. Recently, a Guild participant noted that the tone of the community is set by the way the staff interact with one another. It has been so rewarding to participate in this caring and dynamic process, to learn, and to witness how each week’s community develops.

My time at the Guild has taught me the value of the neutral zone, the time between an ending and a beginning. In our lives, both as individuals and organizations, we travel endless cycles of beginnings and endings. At the Guild, that is as true as anywhere else. The Guild is recovering from losses – the loss of their founders, the losses of the pandemic, and the losses of a community in transition. At all levels, both newcomers and Guild veterans are working to understand the next beginning for the Guild. All summer we have been observing and encouraging rest in this neutral zone. It took me nearly my entire time here to realize that I, myself, am floating in a neutral zone. And truthfully, there’s nothing wrong with that – not for me, or for the Guild. It is necessary to mourn the loss of an ending while also opening your arms to the opportunities of a beginning. That is the ultimate lesson I am bringing away from my summer experience here. While my calling and purpose are still fuzzy, I can at least acknowledge where I am in the cycle.

Katie served 10 weeks during the Summer of 2022 as an intern through Valparaiso University’s Calling and Purpose in Society (CAPS) program.

The Life and Spirit of the Guild

(a post-internship reflection by Natalie Gut)

These past months at the Guild has been full of amazing opportunities and wonderful people. It has been so exciting to experience and support the first five weeks of summer programming and meet so many new people.

For me, the beauty of the Guild is the connection and community that forms each week. While many participants have been coming to the Guild for years, some participants, like myself, are brand new. The community that forms between old-timers and newcomers (and everyone in between) is truly a wonder to experience. My time at the Guild has been characterized by open, authentic, and engaging community-wide conversations facilitated through art and through our daily gathering practice at both matins and vespers. My favorite part of the Guild is getting to interact with and get to know so many incredible people from different walks of life. It has been so wonderful to listen to each person’s story, to see their creative processes throughout the week, and be celebrate those processes and their projects during our closing Saturday matins.

Part of what is so wonderful about the Guild, for me, is how every aspect of our work and life here is part of an ongoing creative process. Much like life, this organization is growing and changing. The Guild community is itself living and breathing. There is a lot of work that goes into maintaining this living community, but that work is made easier by the people who fill the dining room with their stories, fill the studio spaces with their creativity, and fill each room with their spirit and energy. They are what sustains this place, and I am so grateful to not only witness this shared community process, but to take an active part in shaping it.

I am beyond proud of the work that I have and continue to put into the Guild, and never for one second do I feel that it goes unappreciated. Our Guild is a place that celebrates even the smallest of victories and accomplishments, a place where everyone is celebrated for showing up and existing, and for bringing life and spirit to every corner.

Natalie served 10 weeks during the Summer of 2022 as an intern through Valparaiso University’s Calling and Purpose in Society (CAPS) program.

Thoughts On The Guild at 40+ Years Old

(a reflection by Acting Co-Director Kari Reiquam)

It helps me to playfully imagine the Guild as a 40 year old person – what are the challenges at this age of maturity?

A 40 year old is starting to realize the body in a different way. The same eating and exercise habits that worked at 20 are not working as well for the body! Sometimes a little gray hair is beginning to show, as are “love handles” and dark circles under the eyes. There is a realization of tiredness and the need for rest, as well as a drive to be established and secure.

The 40 year old might have a stronger desire to be established. The forties are a time when one buys the reliable car, gets rid of the ratty rug, cleans up the wardrobe and focuses on the job and the kids and the parents. The forties are a time when one begins to realize one can’t have everything. Some things need to be left behind or put aside for the future in order to strengthen present foundations and live out the roles one needs to play.

The forties are a middle time between youth and old age, containing pull, stress, and growth. It is a time for compromises as one considers the needs of the vulnerable for strong structures of care. Being part of institutions means compromise of ideals as well as a support and a guide.

This is a time when losing begins to play as much of a role in life as gaining. Accumulation of stuff and experiences is becoming harder to bear and the 40 year old is beginning to feel burdened by more, ready to leave some things behind. This means choosing one beautiful thing instead of another.

There are dreams, of course, in the forties. Sometimes the forties are the grounding of dreams from the twenties and thirties . Sometimes the forties are a time of compromise for the sake of family or community. Sometimes the forties are a time of constructions, where dreams become reality. Sometimes the forties bear new dreams honed within the limits of means.

Yes, the forties frequently represent a time of choosing, a time of building, a time of recognizing limits and resources.

What would you like to say to the Guild at this age?

(If you would like to participate in the Guild’s transition conversation, please take our Transition Survey or contact Kari directly at [email protected])