Tonight I am resurrecting one of the most popular events I used to do at The Mindful Medicine Center in Scottsdale, when I was doing a ton of teaching and seminars ten years ago. It's called a Philosophy Cafe and they are fascinating.
In today's world of texting and twittering, the art of conversation is becoming lost. The live human dialogue includes body language, vocal dynamics such as pitch, tone, and tempo, and other subtle energies that can't be expressed in an email or blogpost. I said hey, let's get a cafe going! Well the response was overwhelming at 45 people, creating our first dilemma, because each cafe session is limited to twelve for specific reasons. So I'm doing two for 24 people this weekend, and the others will just have to wait until next month.
Each of my Cafes is built on a single question. For our first cafe, the question is, "What is Security?" The twelve participants are given the question ahead of time. Everyone then brings in a real life story, ready to share in two or three minutes, which embodies or illustrates the question. That is, each tells a brief story of an actual experience in which the issue of security was somehow relevant.
For example, someone could describe a specific incident when her sense of security was challenged or threatened. Or maybe there was an event in which someone's feelings of security were strengthened or reinforced. Or something else... The idea is, whatever happened defined security in a real way for that person.
Participants are told not to worry that their story might appear insignificant to others. It doesn't matter how small the experience may seem--it just needs to be important for the person it happened to. The main goal is to get a dozen stories on security, which will happen by the end of the first hour. And let me tell you, many of the stories are quite moving, and the range of ideas on security will vary incredibly.
Then we take a short break, and in the second hour, it gets really interesting as we start to jam on ideas about security based on the stories. Sometimes the goal is to arrive at a consensus definition of security, but not always. Sometimes the question is left open. But one thing does happen for sure every time: everyone's notions about security will be highly expanded, and everyone's hearts and brains are exercised in very healthy ways. Over time, great bonds can form among the group.
The general cafe rules are:
1. Think for yourself
2. Express your doubts
3. Be attentive to others
4. Refrain from long monologues
5. Ask no hypothetical questions
6. Avoid references to published works, no textbook definitions
7. Strive for consensus (maybe)
A Philosophy Café is a lot like playing jazz, the only original art form to come out of American culture. Jazz is democracy, because all voices are to be heard. This vocal freedom is not about saying or doing whatever you want. It is about remembering that you are part of a larger group, and that the group forms the context for your individual voice. The great jazz trumpeter and Pulitzer Prize winner Winton Marsalis calls jazz the best living example of democracy, because a group of jazz players come together to negotiate their agendas without stepping on each others’ toes, creating something new every night.
Imagine you are a jazz musician playing in a 12-piece swing band. You are given the musical chart that shows you the theme and main notes of the piece. Everyone in the band must follow this form. The group plays together off the chart with its melody, harmonies, refrain, and bridge. Then they begin replaying this theme over and over, while each individual player—you included—gets to improvise a solo over it. The more original you are, the more art you create on the spot.
But you can’t just play any way you want. You have to listen to the other players, feel them, and play off of them. When it’s your turn to improvise, you pick up from where the last player left off and, using point and counterpoint, add to the collective art out of that. This creative tension is the lifeblood of a jazz band, democratic society, and a well-conducted Philosophy Café.
In the Café we are a 12-piece group. The evening’s question is the “chart.” The sources of our music are our real life stories. Our instruments are our intuitive voices. The music we create is our conversation.
Culture is the result of risk-taking and creative tension. To create, you must take risks. You must be willing to step out, cross thresholds, expose yourself, and play on the outer edge of your ability. If you hang back and just play a standard solo inside your comfort zone (conventional opinions or textbook definitions), this won’t bring much creative tension to the group, nor will you experience any growth. Sometimes you may choose not to solo on a particular night, but just help supply the ground rhythm. That’s okay, because rhythm supports the creative tension and is the groove itself.
Now, as you add to the conversation, you can’t take off on a long solo because you will lose the group. You can’t just play to hear yourself. You must always listen to the other members, both the one who soloed before you, and the pulse and swing of the rest of the band who are providing the groove, the cushiony platform from which you have the privilege to improvise.
I've led dozens of cafes and they never cease to amaze me. If you are ever in Phoenix on the first Friday or Saturday of the month, join us at McDowell Studios for a cool mind jam...Let’s swing!
In today's world of texting and twittering, the art of conversation is becoming lost. The live human dialogue includes body language, vocal dynamics such as pitch, tone, and tempo, and other subtle energies that can't be expressed in an email or blogpost. I said hey, let's get a cafe going! Well the response was overwhelming at 45 people, creating our first dilemma, because each cafe session is limited to twelve for specific reasons. So I'm doing two for 24 people this weekend, and the others will just have to wait until next month.
Each of my Cafes is built on a single question. For our first cafe, the question is, "What is Security?" The twelve participants are given the question ahead of time. Everyone then brings in a real life story, ready to share in two or three minutes, which embodies or illustrates the question. That is, each tells a brief story of an actual experience in which the issue of security was somehow relevant.
For example, someone could describe a specific incident when her sense of security was challenged or threatened. Or maybe there was an event in which someone's feelings of security were strengthened or reinforced. Or something else... The idea is, whatever happened defined security in a real way for that person.
Participants are told not to worry that their story might appear insignificant to others. It doesn't matter how small the experience may seem--it just needs to be important for the person it happened to. The main goal is to get a dozen stories on security, which will happen by the end of the first hour. And let me tell you, many of the stories are quite moving, and the range of ideas on security will vary incredibly.
Then we take a short break, and in the second hour, it gets really interesting as we start to jam on ideas about security based on the stories. Sometimes the goal is to arrive at a consensus definition of security, but not always. Sometimes the question is left open. But one thing does happen for sure every time: everyone's notions about security will be highly expanded, and everyone's hearts and brains are exercised in very healthy ways. Over time, great bonds can form among the group.
The general cafe rules are:
1. Think for yourself
2. Express your doubts
3. Be attentive to others
4. Refrain from long monologues
5. Ask no hypothetical questions
6. Avoid references to published works, no textbook definitions
7. Strive for consensus (maybe)
A Philosophy Café is a lot like playing jazz, the only original art form to come out of American culture. Jazz is democracy, because all voices are to be heard. This vocal freedom is not about saying or doing whatever you want. It is about remembering that you are part of a larger group, and that the group forms the context for your individual voice. The great jazz trumpeter and Pulitzer Prize winner Winton Marsalis calls jazz the best living example of democracy, because a group of jazz players come together to negotiate their agendas without stepping on each others’ toes, creating something new every night.
Imagine you are a jazz musician playing in a 12-piece swing band. You are given the musical chart that shows you the theme and main notes of the piece. Everyone in the band must follow this form. The group plays together off the chart with its melody, harmonies, refrain, and bridge. Then they begin replaying this theme over and over, while each individual player—you included—gets to improvise a solo over it. The more original you are, the more art you create on the spot.
But you can’t just play any way you want. You have to listen to the other players, feel them, and play off of them. When it’s your turn to improvise, you pick up from where the last player left off and, using point and counterpoint, add to the collective art out of that. This creative tension is the lifeblood of a jazz band, democratic society, and a well-conducted Philosophy Café.
In the Café we are a 12-piece group. The evening’s question is the “chart.” The sources of our music are our real life stories. Our instruments are our intuitive voices. The music we create is our conversation.
Culture is the result of risk-taking and creative tension. To create, you must take risks. You must be willing to step out, cross thresholds, expose yourself, and play on the outer edge of your ability. If you hang back and just play a standard solo inside your comfort zone (conventional opinions or textbook definitions), this won’t bring much creative tension to the group, nor will you experience any growth. Sometimes you may choose not to solo on a particular night, but just help supply the ground rhythm. That’s okay, because rhythm supports the creative tension and is the groove itself.
Now, as you add to the conversation, you can’t take off on a long solo because you will lose the group. You can’t just play to hear yourself. You must always listen to the other members, both the one who soloed before you, and the pulse and swing of the rest of the band who are providing the groove, the cushiony platform from which you have the privilege to improvise.
I've led dozens of cafes and they never cease to amaze me. If you are ever in Phoenix on the first Friday or Saturday of the month, join us at McDowell Studios for a cool mind jam...Let’s swing!















Totally beautiful description...I'm feelin' the ever-changing rhythm. Sweet.
ReplyDeleteI have been running a new philosophy cafe for a few months now. Really popular with fifty people on the group list here in Phoenix. If I can help you launch one in your area, glad to do it!
ReplyDelete