For five years, it was Steve who was the principal writer of the annual workshops. I don’t think any of us had really considered that it would ever be otherwise. We contributed, both ideas and certain sections of the weekend, but he had established a format and set a standard. All who attended knew they could trust him to deliver.
The morning of the first meeting after the River of the Sun workshop, Stuart and I had been talking about an idea he’d had for a workshop long ago…something he had been thinking about, on and off, for years. The Green Man had been coming up a lot in our lives…perhaps that was what had brought the idea to mind once more. We tend to trust the synchronicities that lead us along these odd pathways…especially when they go all ‘bells and whistles’. You never know where they might lead, and so far, they have not led us astray.
“I think you should write the next one,” said Steve, settling himself at the pub table where we had just met. At any other moment, the only answer would have been that we could not possibly do that…he writes the workshops! Except, we’d been talking about the Green Knight/Green Man idea all morning so…
“Well, actually…” Which is how Leaf and Flame came into being, taking us all by surprise. We followed a year after that with The Feathered Seer, which we had also begun to mull over. Neither Stuart nor I had undertaken the writing of a workshop on that scale before, and Companions come from across the world to attend… even so, Steve left us to it, trusting that we would rise to the occasion. We, on the other hand, trusted that we would be given what was needed by way of inspiration as we worked. And we were…even though some of it came in its own good time.
Trust was a major facet of the Leaf and Flame workshop. Not only did we ask two of the Companions to ad-lib a whole section, trusting that they would bring what was needed to the moment, but we also asked the Gawain character, played by Steve, to place his trust in unseen forces, represented by …us. As we were by this time, being referred to as the Terrible Twins, this was a leap into the unknown. These ritual dramas go far beyond mere playacting and can have a deep and abiding effect on those who take part… and the trust required was real.
In previous years, the ‘knowledge sessions’ in which we explore various concepts, had all been carefully themed and designed to fit neatly with the story we were using and, for the most part, we had presented them ourselves. With Leaf and Flame and the Feathered Seer, we invited our Companions to share aspects of their own paths instead. We gave no more than a few words to guide their choice of subject and left them to it because we have the utmost faith in them. And every time, that faith has been repaid… not just with the quality of what has been shared, but through the strangely synchronous way in which their presentations have dovetailed far too neatly with the workshop.
That trust extends to all the Companions at the workshop… we ask them to open themselves to the moment …and they do. Every time. They are there when there is a need, they pick up the errors that inevitably occur, step in where there is a space, and each of them adds their own essence to the ‘cauldron of inspiration’ we brew together.
Some are asked to fill demanding roles. Last year, we beheaded one of our American friends in the first ritual. Okay, he did get to pick up his head and challenge the Companions to choose oracle cards from the severed head…and I think he enjoyed that… but even so, the axe was heavy and the trust needed to be mutual. This year, we asked our Shaman to work almost entirely unscripted for a large part of the weekend… which he did… and our Lore Keepers to enact two interwoven tales that they had yet to see, in whatever way they saw fit. Not only did they agree, but they delivered an incredible piece of performance art that had us all laughing and crying by turns and brought the historical role of the storyteller to vivid life for all of us.
The trust is unspoken, but always there. I believe it is stronger for being implicit, rather than explicit. It is simply accepted… and in that simplicity there is space.
When we dictate, step by step, every move that should be made, attempting to retain control of the vision we hold of ‘how things should be’, we are implying a lack of trust in others, even though we may not feel that to be so. Leaving space for error is also leaving space for trust…and that space allows those around us to grow into their own possibilities, challenging themselves in ways they may not otherwise have attempted.
When trust is misplaced, either things will not go according to plan or we will feel the shadow of betrayal. Either way, that space that we prepared will allow us room to grow as we face the challenges of the moment.
Living in the moment also requires our trust; that moment is the space in which we are…it can have neither past nor future, nor is it the present as it is past before we are aware of it. We can only trust as time and space moves through and around us. That trust must be in our selves, in the design of existence and the forces that are the matrix of being.
I wonder if that Free Will with which mankind is endowed, is also a manifestation of Trust? And is life, perhaps, the ‘space for error’ that we are given? Does it then matter whether we get things right or wrong… or does it matter more that we grow, through both success and error, for both can teach in their own way if we are prepared to learn. Is life our ‘space for error’, because we are trusted, rather than condemned… a space that allows each of us to grow into our own possibilities, challenging ourselves in ways we may not otherwise have attempted. Maybe we just have to trust that the Cosmos knows what It is doing… and trust ourselves to know It.