“Our need to belong is one of the strongest drives we have; it can be more important than food or shelter for some.”
Source: Conversations Worth Having: Using Appreciative Inquiry to Fuel Productive and Meaningful Engagement
“Being intentional about listening takes practice. It means listening with an open mind, willing to entertain another’s ideas; listening with an open heart, willing to empathize with another person’s experience and understand a situation from his or her point of view; and listening with an openness to new possibilities and new ways of going forward.”
Source: Conversations Worth Having: Using Appreciative Inquiry to Fuel Productive and Meaningful Engagement
“Inquiry-based conversations aim to generate information or surface understanding. Questions that arise out of curiosity and genuine interest build relationships and often produce new knowledge or possibilities.”
Source: Conversations Worth Having: Using Appreciative Inquiry to Fuel Productive and Meaningful Engagement
“Human nature is adaptable and habits are flexible. We can learn to shift our conversations”
Source: Conversations Worth Having: Using Appreciative Inquiry to Fuel Productive and Meaningful Engagement
“With awareness, we can choose our words. We can decide how to respond, what to say and ask.”
Source: Conversations Worth Having: Using Appreciative Inquiry to Fuel Productive and Meaningful Engagement
“Life is measured by a collection of moments rather than the passing of minutes.”
“Long ago, when faeries and men still wandered the earth as brothers, the MacLeod chief fell in love with a beautiful faery woman. They had no sooner married and borne a child when she was summoned to return to her people. Husband and wife said a tearful goodbye and parted ways at Fairy Bridge, which you can still visit today. Despite the grieving chief, a celebration was held to honor the birth of the newborn boy, the next great chief of the MacLeods. In all the excitement of the celebration, the baby boy was left in his cradle and the blanket slipped off. In the cold Highland night he began to cry. The baby’s cry tore at his mother, even in another dimension, and so she went to him, wrapping him in her shawl. When the nursemaid arrived, she found the young chief in the arms of his mother, and the faery woman gave her a song she insisted must be sung to the little boy each night. The song became known as “The Dunvegan Cradle Song,” and it has been sung to little chieflings ever since. The shawl, too, she left as a gift: if the clan were ever in dire need, all they would have to do was wave the flag she’d wrapped around her son, and the faery people would come to their aid. Use the gift wisely, she instructed. The magic of the flag will work three times and no more.
As I stood there in Dunvegan Castle, gazing at the Fairy Flag beneath its layers of protective glass, it was hard to imagine the history behind it. The fabric was dated somewhere between the fourth and seventh centuries. The fibers had been analyzed and were believed to be from Syria or Rhodes. Some thought it was part of the robe of an early Christian saint. Others thought it was a part of the war banner for Harald Hardrada, king of Norway, who gave it to the clan as a gift. But there were still others who believed it had come from the shoulders of a beautiful faery maiden. And that faery blood had flowed through the MacLeod family veins ever since. Those people were the MacLeods themselves.”
Source: Faery Tale: One Woman's Search for Enchantment in a Modern World
“Wenn ich könnte, würde ich den Leuten gern schon bei unserem ersten Zusammentreffen erklären, wie es um mich steht. Dass ich die meiste Zeit über keine Ahnung habe, was ich mache oder machen sollte. Ich weiß nicht, was von mir erwartet wird, welche Wörter ich zusammensetzen muss, damit sie Sinn ergeben. Und genauso wenig weiß ich, wie man andere Menschen liest – es ist, als ob alle bei ihrer Geburt eine Gebrauchsanweisung für soziale Interaktionen installiert bekommen haben, nur mich hat man übersprungen. Und jedes Mal, wenn ich versuche, mich mit anderen zu verständigen, sind da tausend Fragen in meinem Kopf: Soll ich weiter lächeln? Den Blickkontakt aufrechterhalten, etwas sagen, nichts sagen – und wohin mit meinen Händen, meinen Füßen, mit meinem Körper? Wohin mit mir?”
Source: Like water in your hands
“Wien ist…" Ich versuche mich an die richtigen Vokabeln auf Urdu zu erinnern, merke aber, dass ich nicht mal auf Deutsch so genau wüsste, wie ich fortfahren soll. Wien ist… groß? Ernüchternd. Ermüdend. Irgendwie schäbiger als erwartet, irgendwie schöner auch. Vor allem ist es sehr viel und sehr schnell und ziemlich überwältigend, auch nach den vier Wochen, die ich schon hier bin. "Wien", beende ich meinen in der Luft schwebenden Satz. "Wien eben.”
Source: Like water in your hands
“Das ist alles sehr überwältigend, oder? So ein Umzug und all die neuen Menschen.”
Source: Like water in your hands