I’m a sucker for beginnings. So when I heard about the recent launch of a new Rotary club in our district (7090), I was more than just a little excited.
As a past Club President and current PETS 1 Chair, I am well versed in the challenges of membership and retention. Without sufficient Rotarians we can neither actualize our potential nor leverage our impact in communities around the world. And as a trained psychologist and mediator I also understand the challenges of transforming – or retrofitting- existing clubs, addressing historical patterns, interpersonal dynamics, and contextual issues that can inhibit growth.
So when a new club launches with exuberance and vigor, it is certainly worth celebrating and taking careful note.
Here’s the set-up. Buffalo, NY, a Rust Belt city in the midst of reinventing itself. Palpable energy around new construction projects, a growing cultural and tourism sector, and a burgeoning biomedical core, including a relocating medical school, new start-ups and research centers, all co-located in the heart of the city. And at the very nexus of activity is the Buffalo Niagara Medical Campus (BNMC), an exciting destination attracting talented physicians, researchers, students, and staff, and just maybe the most perfect home for a brand new Rotary Club.
When members of my own club- Buffalo Sunrise- announced the idea, we were all hopeful that there would be sufficient interest. But when the charter ceremony commenced with over 50 official members, and numbers rising to nearly 100 within the first 2 months, it was clear that they were on to something huge. Talk about beginnings.
My chance to visit the club came just this past week when I was asked to co-facilitate an orientation into the bigger world of Rotary. As an opening exercise we passed around an assortment of articles from past Rotarian magazines. Rather than traditional introductions we had participants summarize their article while sharing any details that had resonated.
Within minutes we could feel the energy of Rotary. The new members described stories from around the world featuring fundraisers, service projects, and extraordinary impacts implemented by clubs, most smaller than theirs. Their areas of focus were as diverse as the projects- from animals to children, disease prevention, clean water, to agriculture. But for me the most exciting part was the reflections following the exercise. Members commented that they hadn’t known there was so much room for creativity, so many possibilities for projects, and opportunities for support.
Imagine all these amazingly talented and connected people joining the world’s best service organization without any idea of its latent potential.
It struck me that new clubs such as the BNMC in many ways represent the promise of Rotary. But they also reflect the significant challenge of connecting Rotary resources and structures with individuals and clubs that are in a constant state of motion and change. Clearly, we all stand to benefit from our ability as districts, and a unified organization, to stay relevant and connected to individual members and clubs. But keeping up with their talents, interests and potential is not for the faint of heart. As district leaders we had better strap on some speedy new running shoes, because the new BNMC Rotary Club has certainly taken off.
We are all so very small. This was the message I took away from the Canyon, and somehow it brought me a sense of great comfort and warmth.
We had hiked down into Canyon de Chelly, battling the heat and dryness, our bodies still unaccustomed to the desert sun. The petrified sandstone was smooth and slippery with undulating contours and dizzying heights. Dazzling blue sky against terracotta painted contrasts so striking that they demanded adoration, leaving us speechless.
When we finally spotted the homestead, it was nestled within an oasis of green, snug within the canyon walls. Our guide mentioned that for some the Canyon can evoke feelings of being trapped along with an intensity of emotion that is both cathartic and powerful. But for us, the Canyon rocked us in a gentle embrace, lulling the children into blissful happiness while whispering songs of wisdom and comfort.
Our hosts were Kathy, the keeper of the family’s land and legacy, and Ravis, a Navajo guide who grew up in the Canyon and worked to preserve its culture and traditions. Each shared their stories and gifts with the children.
Kathy welcomed us as only a grandmother could. She spoke of growing up in the Canyon , the rhythms of life and work, and the sense of clarity and purpose with which she toiled. She soothed wounds with plants and herbs, taught the children how to spin wool and weave, and made delicious fry bread, hypnotizing us with stories, humor, and kindness. Her grandson, Montay, played joyfully with the children, running through the orchard and scaling the Canyon walls, enchanting us with his innocence.
Ravis was more commanding. He spoke with a quiet yet authoritative voice, referencing spirits, tradition, and the Navajo ways. He spoke to the children before they went to sleep, lying together on the Canyon floor under the vast blanket of stars, singing them a low and beating melody. He spoke of the age of the Canyon, the vastness of its history, and the briefness of ours. He shared the four words with which parents teach their children, the rhythms of nature, and spirits that occupy all living things.
In the morning, as the sun was rising and we were contemplating our impending departure, Ravis asked the children to introduce themselves. He spoke of the importance of identity, sharing our lineage and celebrating our parents and grandparents and the families or clans from which we come. He explained that by knowing someone’s family you know a great deal about their character and what to expect. We are all shaped by those before us, connected through family, traditions, and the spirits who watch over us.
And in the end we are all 5-fingered people, inhabiting the same earth, cherishing and tending it for the next generation and their children and grandchildren who will follow.
When we left ,the children were sad but Kathy urged us to feel only joy. In Navajo there is no word for goodbye, only the happiness that will come when we meet again.