Like a kid at the fair, however, I wanted to see everything. I went to the first meeting I could, an evening business meeting. I watched bemused as there seemed to be little or no order in the proceedings. Troubling to me was the fact that at least one student group’s fate appeared to hang in the balance while people debated the procedure by which the group had arrived there. I wasn’t terribly reassured, having already experienced other groups where the rules of the game were changed at the last minute.

The reactions of those participating were interesting: some sat in the back and made comments to each other, some made vain attempts to call the group to a more formal procedural order, others called out comments or questions, some stood and waited to be recognized. It was difficult to know if or how an issue would be acted on further, as things seemed to simply trail off with an ill-defined consensus. In light of this, it was not surprising to me that communication might be a problem.

At the same time, I could appreciate what is probably a very healthy and necessary tension: providing enough structure to be reasonably efficient while maintaining decentralized control as far as possible. Tension, in my experience, is always uncomfortable, as it was for me in that meeting. It can also be very creative, and I felt real creativity in that room alongside the chaos: people trying to develop new ways of providing supervision while still remaining accountable, for example.

The less a system relies on a central authority, it seems to me, the more it depends on the will of each participant to take responsibility to maintain the threads to the whole. There may be room for better and more consistent structures of communication among Chapters, between Chapters and committees, and so on. As a newcomer who hopes one day to be in the place of the group discussed at the meeting, however, I would ask that we choose, out of deference to those we serve, to keep each other informed all along the way.

An aspect of the plenary that I found especially satisfying was the representation from all over the world. As someone else said, people from various cultures were “not only welcomed, but celebrated.” I belong to few other organizations where I could, as I did at the plenary, sit down with a brother from Tanzania and learn as honestly and openly about one another.

The small group I participated in included a goodly number of first-timers like myself. The experience was collegial and mutually beneficial as we imparted our stories and reflected on case presentations. We took a pass, though, on the final session just to have time to walk the beach or do some shopping. I understand now why the plenary was billed as a working gathering: those books I brought with me for spare time? Untouched.

Did I mention the sacred moments of reading of the covenant together?

Finally, the Tavistock experience (another first) touched me deeply. The introvert in me especially appreciated a time and place where us quieter but no less committed ones could be heard alongside the louder voices and more dynamic personalities. For us all, beginner and veteran alike, to join to reflect respectfully on the shape and future of CPSP was such a welcome change. The passion for our shared was energizing.

As I said then, each person is responsible for following their own particular call to service, and each call demands a unique courage. No one call or courage is superior to another. The courage to face a tyrant is no less or more than the courage to face ones own self. The arena of political change is no less or more worthy than the arena of institutional systems, group work, or one-on-one transformation. Rather than focus as an organization on any one area of service or mission, I hope CPSP will remain a group where each person’s call to serve, no matter what the arena, can be respected and supported by the whole.