I have always undervalued the benefits of belonging to a group. I have also missed--entirely--that the point of belonging to one is community.
I am an achiever, and I like to follow a straight path toward that end.
Even a group of two can be difficult for me, as when Adrian and I would try to work on a project together. Our styles were so completely different that I’d be grabbing a part out of his hand and assembling it while he was still contemplating what we should do next.
If he thought we should move a piece of furniture one way, I’d already be doing it some other way before he got a chance to explain.
In larger groups I’ve belonged to, I also expected we should move directly to task accomplishment. I had to quit a co-op gallery because I couldn’t deal with the endless talk and the requirement of consensus before any decisions could be made.
Groups that worked best for me were ones that I controlled by having the meetings in my house or studio. In San Diego I ran a writing group in my house where we sat around and discussed each other’s manuscripts. We ate snacks, drank wine, and chatted, but everyone did their homework by reading the manuscript to be discussed ahead of time and coming prepared with comments. I made sure we accomplished our main task at each meeting.
For a number of years I ran an art-marketing group in my studio once a month. Local artist friends would come to discuss a particular topic each week, and to share their own art-marketing efforts. We talked about galleries, websites, art fairs, resumes, artists’ statements, etc. The idea was for each of us to share our own expertise and experience with the others.
We drank wine and had snacks at the art-marketing meetings, and there was some personal chitchat, but I always tried to keep everyone on track with the main agenda. In fact, I sent out emails beforehand letting them know what was expected at the meeting, and then prepared a comprehensive report after the meeting to send to everyone.
When Adrian’s health declined and I had to stop running those meetings in my studio, no one else stepped up to host them.
I think I’m missing my point.
My point is that I didn’t understand the value of community these groups offered. I thought the writing group was about improving our writing and the art-marketing group was about selling more art.
Over the past six years I have belonged on and off to a group that meets once a week for an hour and a half to meditate, read spiritual texts, and discuss them. These meetings helped me immensely to get through the agony of caregiving when Adrian had dementia. They were a true refuge for me.
Yet I quit this group more than once because I found them on occasion to be completely off the course I thought we had agreed to follow.
One time in the middle of a meeting, I said, “This doesn’t feel like spiritual practice to me.” Then I got up and walked out.
Once again, I was focused on the task, not the community.
It was only while reading Tara Brach’s new book, True Refuge, that I realized I’d missed the main benefit of belonging to a group: the community.
“Whatever our history, the capacity to have intimate and authentic relationships remains within us, and it comes alive with practice. This happens as we learn to be purposefully attentive, in the present moment, with ourselves and one another. We can do this in relationships with any person or group where there is a commitment to ‘staying,’ a commitment to kindness, a commitment to awakening together.”*
I finally get it. Now I need to practice. And to stay.
*True Refuge by Tara Brach (p. 53)
