The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.~ Joy Harjo
Dear Springhouse community,
The table, where we break bread together through the seasons of life, is an image and reality that holds what wholeness means to me. So much can happen at that table. Liberation happens at the table if we let it.
One of my favorite movies of all time is a Dutch film called Antonia’s Line. In it Antonia, a mother and grandmother, opens her home to a diverse group of people in her community. She invites them to stay, break bread, fall in love, and grieve together. She invites them to join her as they live, learn, and die together. It is a great film and the table is consistently present throughout it. The table is the place where they gather and come together, no matter how old they are, who they are, or what is happening in their lives. The table holds each individual as they are, within the wholeness of the community.
Back in the late 90s, I worked in a small non-profit in Colorado Springs called Food for Thought. Our mission was to bring people together from diverse backgrounds to share a meal together on a regular basis. My husband Andy and I were in our group for over five years and met dear friends at that table. People with very different political views and religious perspectives, people of different ages and racial and ethnic backgrounds, all broke bread together at the table. Our conversations revolved around topics that are often avoided. I learned that a shared table, when it is returned to, allows for trust to build through consistent relationship. The table we all shared in our group allowed for depth, and for us to get to know each other with our differences, and through what connects us.
I also experienced wholeness through community in a recovery program I have been a part of for 35 years. In that program, we understand that we are stronger together. We call that strength our “group conscience”, and we know that this conscience is only as strong as each member’s willingness to be and share what is true for them. Participation is the key to harmony is something we often say for this very reason. When we all participate, coming from an authentic and honest place individually, we are stronger because of the wholeness we represent. It all depends on authentic participation.
I have learned many things at the Springhouse table. I speak of that table literally and metaphorically. This summer we have started summer community work days, where we come together and work on the farm, in the building, or in the print shop. After that we share a potluck meal together at a long table in the Great Hall and sometimes outside if it is not too hot. That table always includes nourishing food and authentic dialogue.
I have learned other things in the Springhouse community too. Consistently showing up with people over 12 years has invited me to face challenges with individuals I could easily ignore or avoid if we were not at the table together. Being in a community means being in relationship with others over time. This has meant facing conflict in authentic and transformative ways that lead to repair. I can’t avoid the challenges I experience in relationship with others. A teacher of mine told me a long time ago, “Jenny, you live in a hall of mirrors.” It’s true and when I keep going back to the same issues that are mirrored back to me through this community, I have an opportunity to really deeply heal.
Also, as I sit at this table, I get to see life differently through the eyes and experiences of those who I share the table with. When I experience cold water on a hot day through the eyes of a child at a water play table, or witnessing (and then joining) a teen dousing himself with a hose when he is fully clothed, I experience different parts of myself that I don’t think I would without those mirrors. New parts of me surface everyday in relation to my community members. In one day I can see my innocence, my edges, and the seasons of my life at this table.
Lastly, I experienced the power of community in a very real way through our annual fundraiser. Over a three week period, over 500 people gave financially to Springhouse. These 500 people raised over $120,000–exceeding our goal in a big way. Every year I am amazed by what is possible when a group of people unite around a shared purpose, have the autonomy to be and become who they uniquely are, and participate in the ways that they can. No one person could bring in 500 contributors from all over the world in a week. And if they could, it would be the reflection of one person’s effort, not of a web; and a web is stronger. We are deeply grateful for the efforts of everyone, who shared their story about Springhouse and courageously asked for support. Thank you.
The poet, writer, and activist Audre Lorde writes that there can be no liberation without community. I agree. I have known wholeness because of my choice to turn toward community. I have come to know and love myself in ways I never could on my own. As I commit to sitting at the literal and figurative table of community, I continue to move from co-dependence to interdependence, performance to authenticity, and scarcity to generosity. Thank you for being a part of it at Springhouse and may we all continue to learn and serve life and love in the healing and transformative web of community.
Gratefully,
Jenny
