The Art of Gathering

 My daughter Talia’s favorite book is The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters by Priya Parker. As described in its blurb:  

 

“At a time when coming together is more important than ever, Parker sets forth a human-centered approach to gathering that will help everyone create meaningful, memorable experiences, large and small, for work and for play.”

 

When I read the book at Talia’s urging, my first reaction was “Damn! She beat me to it!” Because as anyone who has taken a class, workshop or course with me can testify, I treat the class gathering like a piece of music with an enticing beginning— a welcoming activity that brings the group immediately together, a connected middle— activities that build on the initial introduction and connects people through song, dance, play, group creation, and a satisfying ending— some kind of ritual song/ dance/ spoken words that acknowledge the privilege of our brief time together and helps cushion the re-entry into the world that doesn’t care about such things. The idea that we each matter and we matter better together helps me create games that not only help us learn each other’s name (indeed, the second book I published is titled Name Games) in a fun, engaging and memorable way, but often include the things we like that form part of who we are, shared with a partner and then the whole group. Alongside the vital information of name, rank and serial number is the way people can get to know each other by the warmth and pressure of hands in clapping plays, the unique body languages and gestures invited out into the open, the quality of the voice and possibility of harmonizing song together and so on and so on and so on.

 

The Orff world in which I travel is well suited to this kind of welcoming and inclusive and connected gathering, but I’ve encountered few people who do it as deliberately, consciously and consistently as I do, both because of some inexplicable natural caring about these things and the wonderful model of my teacher Avon Gillespie who likewise paid extra attention to building instant communities. Indeed, beginning with him, fueled by my world travels looking at community rituals, ceremonies and celebrations and completed with the permission at my school to create a ritual calendar of such things, my own attention to the art of gathering indeed qualified me to write my own book about this aspect of my work (which perhaps I still might do).

Meanwhile, my daughter Talia has taken the baton and run down the field in her own style, bringing her sensibility that conscious gathering matters into each class she teaches, parties with her scores of friends and at the family dinner tables as we share our rose, thorn and skyflower of the day. She knows a few dozen games that break ice, get things flowing and help create a fun, bubbly atmosphere far beyond the usual random party talk. 

 

So as we began e-mailing with the cousins about the upcoming reunion, she proclaimed herself as the evening Entertainment Coordinator and invited me to co-chair. And so the chip and the old block gathered everyone in a circle on the first night after dinner. I asked one of my wife’s cousins to invoke our immediate ancestors and tell the story of how this reunion first came to be and we had a moment of silence in honor of those no longer with us who made this possible, inviting their presence in this gathering and feeling them in the room. Then we played a quick version of one of my rhythmic name games and Talia took over with a game of group charades in teams with the clans mixed. The whole thing took some 30 to 40 minutes and then it was free time for all to go off as they wish. After singing Happy Birthday to my grandson Malik, as it was his 8^thbirthday! And that’s when I discovered people sang pretty well!

 

So the next night, I included a couple of opening songs, played another name game that included sharing one thing you liked to do in the smaller groups, another more challenging group charades and all of it great fun. The next night was 4^th of July and after some more songs and short activities, I told them the story of two people— one a black boy growing up at the beginning of the last century amongst brutal racism with a single mother who sometimes couldn’t get food on the table, having to work selling coal on the streets, getting arrested at 12 and sent to a reform school for two years, never going to school beyond 5^th grade, etc. Then I told of a black man who had an extraordinary musical gift and ended up famous throughout the world, playing for the King and Queen of England, the Emperor of Japan, the President of Brazil, the Royal Chiefs of Ghana. He was featured in some 14 Hollywood films, lived in a modest home in Queens so he could hang out with the kids in the neighborhood and more. I accented the contrast between these two people and then revealed the punch line— they both are the same person, Mr. Louis Armstrong! And the reason for the story? Though a later paper was discovered that claimed his birthday was August 4, 1901, he insisted his birthday was July 4^th, 1900. A fitting date as he represented the true spirit of freedom and independence.

 

A quick confession here. I knew enough about some of the cousins to know that they were zealous church-goers and though I believe (and certainly would like to believe!) that none of them voted for you-know-who, I think there are some Republican leanings in some of the families. But I decided to honor the idea of “no religion and politics discussion at the family gathering” and was happy I did. Still, I wondered whether taking the floor to educate them about Louis Armstrong would be pushing that boundary a bit. But if we all keep silent, nothing changes. So without proselytizing, I simply told the story that I think every American should know (subtitle of my forthcoming book “Jazz, Joy & Justice.”) Though there might have been murmurs behind my back, no one complained out loud and indeed, one came up to me the next day and told me he listened to Louis Armstrong that night and really enjoyed him. Yes to that!

 

On Talia and I continued. A singing time with the 25 or so kids, two campfires, more group games— and then, a closing circle of appreciation and final song. Enticing beginning, connected middle, satisfying end. Without Talia and I, none of it would have happened and of course, that wouldn’t have been terrible. But besides it being strange to me that most people don’t think this way, I do believe it added something important and memorable to the week. 

 

None of this has to be fancy. Whoever you are, once you commit to the idea that how we gather matters, you’ll come up with your own simple way to acknowledge each other, notice each other, appreciate each other. Think of something that opens the door rather than the superficial kind of things circulating now at the beginning of staff meetings, like “What color are you feeling now? What would you take to a desert island? What’s your favorite pizza topping?” For example, at one of the last staff meetings I went to, I suggested the prompt be, “Tell us how you came to San Francisco” and out poured some amazing stories that I never would have guessed.

 

In short, gathering can be—and should be—an art. Consider it.