Invitation to Brave Space
Together we will create brave space.
Because there is no such thing as a “safe space”
We exist in the real world.
We all carry scars and we have all caused wounds.
In this space
We seek to turn down the volume of the outside world,
We amplify voices that fight to be heard elsewhere,
We call each other to more truth and love.
We have the right to start somewhere and continue to grow.
We have the responsibility to examine what we think we know.
We will not be perfect.
This space will not be perfect.
It will not always be what we wish it to be.
It will be our brave space together,
We will work on it side by side.
Micky Scottbey Jones, from Little Spaces of Hope (Amos Trust)
When I first heard this poem, I was in brave space. Invited into it, with no map and no plan. It was scary and exciting.
There we were, sitting round the fire, exchanging hopes for the year, the coming season, our dreams.
Forty of us, including children, a long weekend of wild walks, getting soaked, of pub grub, deep listening and intentional turning up to say what was on our hearts: mobile phone addiction; climate grief; post-election anger; mental health.
Of eating together and silly games. The preparation and clearing away of food. The pouring of wine.
Right now is a still silent evening on the longest day of the year. (I resist the thought of the darkness rushing up to meet me.) Back then we were still getting knocked around by February. How we laughed into that wind, that downpour. There were rumours of a virus, but not here, surely, we said.
I was in the brave space. I talked about some deep and hidden things. Very slowly I learned to stand in my truth.
I am trying to stay there, but it is not easy.
Sit down with me a while. The sound you can hear is my breathing. It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.
Sit with me a while longer. I am not feeling brave, but let’s explore the space together.
With thanks to Amos Trust