I was raised on Robert's Rules of Order, the bible of parliamentary procedure. A motion needs a seconder to make it to the floor for debate. Some motions, like the motion to adjourn, are not debatable. When the question is called, unless otherwise stipulated, a simple majority carries the vote. There will be winners and there will be losers. It's business, it's not personal.
I chaired dozens of formal meetings during my years as a parish priest. You try to impose order on the decision-making process so that people will feel safe speaking and free voting. You refrain from entering into the debate yourself, your role being impartial. If the stakes are particularly high, like when electing new community leaders, you can try to lessen the possibility of surprise by working behind the scenes ahead of time to secure the nominations. Otherwise, you respect the will of the house.
The process is fair. But it's also bloodless. There's little tolerance for meandering stories ("Can you formulate your question, please?") or for emotional outbursts ("I rule that out of order. Next speaker, please."). But there are no guarantees that the meeting won't go sideways anyway. A disgruntled member can rise on a Point of Order and hold the room hostage to interminable procedural wrangling; or the line-by-line minutiae of a budget can distract the house from the more important questions of vision and principle.
Fortunately, there is another time-honoured way for humans to meet together, a soulful way, where there are no winners or losers, where storytelling is encouraged, and where heartfelt sharing, rather than calculated debate, carries the day. It's called the Way of Council. Still practiced by Indigenous communities around the world, it may be the original way we humans gathered, in small groups, perhaps around a fire, the assembly taking the time to hear and to honour every voice.
There are four intentions that guide Council: Listen with the heart. Speak from the heart. Be lean of expression. Be spontaneous (don't pre-plan what you're going to say); and there is one cardinal rule: Whoever has the talking piece has the floor. It sounds so simple. It's not. It takes wise leadership and willing participants. But when it works, it's magical. With no votes, the assembly finds its way forward voice by voice, often surprising itself by where it ends up. Allowing room for the heart, Soul can enter, guiding the tribe to where the head could not have gone in its own.
Peter Scanlan, a psychotherapist and soul guide, has been using and teaching the Way of Council for over thirty years. He has witnessed the transformation that is possible when people's hearts show up rather than their heads. He has used the practice in couple's counselling in his office and in vision quests out in the wild. He has seen what happens when emotions are honoured, not suppressed, and when dreams are called forth rather than strategies. He says that, in Council. his own emotions often rise to the surface in pure wonder and gratitude for all the heartfelt revelations around the circle.
I don't know how a nation would practice the Way of Council, especially in choosing its leaders. It seems a process better suited to small groups than to mass rallies and national conferences. But perhaps if small groups did meet in Council all across the land, the larger regional and national gatherings would already be infused with Soul and therefore not so easily infected by fear and cynicism. I don't know. This remains a dream. But I do know that the way we gather matters. It can serve Soul, or it can crush it. I, for one, vote for serving it.
To listen to my conversation with Peter Scanlan click on the Play arrow below. To learn more about his work and about the Way of Council, follow the More Info button to the show notes.
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