Andrew's blog


We're in Italy for two weeks on vacation with a couple of friends. We've been staying for the past few days in Bologna, an extraordinarily beautiful city in the north of Italy. Bologna is the home of the oldest University in Europe, and students have attended classes in some of the lecture rooms for almost a thousand years. Bologna is also a city of porticos, covered walkways along the streets that shelter walkers and talkers from the elements. There are over 35 km of these porticos in the central, oldest part of the city. And Bologna is a city of churches.

Art of Hosting story

On the last weekend of January, 2009, I spent my time with forty others on Whidbey Island, Washington at a retreat on "The Art of Hosting Conversations that Matter" -- a practice for all who aspire to learn and find new ways of working with others to create innovative and comprehensive solutions. The Art of Hosting is also a leadership practise focused on creating organizational learning, development and change through meaningful conversations that support commitment and ownership and release the power of collective intelligence.

Wise Action that Lasts

I attended the Art of Hosting retreat on Bowen Island in the fall of 2006 at a moment full of history and possibility. I have always been someone in a hurry, and I think we live in particularly urgent times. Five years after 911, in the wake of our misadventures in Iraq, we have the chaos and wreckage of a disastrous war all around us and the consequences of that war looming before us. Now, I think Americans are entering a “teachable moment”, when we may be open to new wisdom, new lessons about how to live in a troubled world and our need to heal the wounds of war.

Billy Carl Rice Plays Banjo in Heaven

My uncle Billy Carl Rice, a Baptist preacher all his life, died at the age of 79 on Wednesday, July 15th, 2009. He was one of the most kindly, pleasant, and loving people I've known, and together with his wife, my aunt Joanna Rice, he provided an important model and example for me when I was growing up. His last name, Rice, was the same as his wife's maiden name. There was no family connection going back at least a couple of centuries. but the coincidence provided opportunities for confusion. I'll always cherish my lovely Uncle Bill.