I am standing in front of a group of people who are at various stages of dealing with cancer. We have come together for something called “The Hope Workshop” and because this was the first time I had presented it, I was more than a bit nervous. No one was laughing at my jokes and if I tried, I could probably hear crickets.
Everyone looks really serious and concerned.
They listen as I talk about what is going to happen. How we are going to laugh, how we are going to share “the wisdom in the room”, how we are going to do exercises to help us feel good. It feels a bit like the atmosphere on the first day of school and I must admit that I am a bit nervous and excited. The Hope Workshop has begun.
The next two and a half hours fly by, if you have ever been on stage in front of an audience or ridden a bike at high speed or heck, done anything that is truly engaging; then you know what it’s like to give yourself to something in the moment and just run with it. That’s what it’s like in The Hope Workshop. A group of people come together and very quickly become comfortable with each other. Complete strangers laugh, share stories and share vulnerability.
Quicker than I think possible this disparate bunch has become a group of friends that is eager to help each other. Suggestions come fast and furious and I try to capture them all with an old school sharpie on a flipchart. People are eager to share what they have learned on their “journey with cancer”.
Before I know it, the group leaps ahead of me and tackles issues I didn’t even know were on the table. I try to look like a calm workshop leader as someone shares an insight on a challenge that very few of us have faced. I am in awe of the life changing collaboration that’s happening right in front of me.
At the end of the night, folks tell me that they feel happier, lighter, that they even learned something. They thank me, which feels a bit odd because quite frankly, they helped each other with
their insights, courage, and bravery.