Beauty is one of our core values at Conversations in the Vineyard. We believe there is beauty in every season of the vineyard, beauty in every human, beauty in gracious words spoken, beauty in messy communities, beauty in the struggle, beauty in metaphor. Every retreat we facilitate is wrapped in beauty, bringing refreshment to the soul and enlarging our capacity for genuine gratitude, even in the midst of hard realities. 

Authenticity is when our outward actions match what is true and unseen inside our soul. Being authentic creates a sense of vulnerability, which may feel like a weakness. But being vulnerable is very courageous, which, in turn, fosters authenticity. This is the authenticity cycle. When leaves turn from green to crimson, gold, or purple, they are showing their true colors! What a beautiful example of authenticity.

As we consider the ultimate goal of sustainable flourishing in life and leadership, the summer season in the vineyard has many valuable metaphors to live by. Themes such as struggle, hard work, patience, and metabolizing adversity come forward during a summer retreat through metaphors of dry farming, canopy management, and photosynthesis.

As we consider a long, sustainable life for the vines, we must allow them to firmly establish their roots in the early years.  Anytime we start something new, we must give our attention and our energy to what will sustain long-term flourishing, cutting back early growth that detracts from enduring success. Rushing too quickly to fruitfulness will actually weaken our whole strategy for sustainability in life and leadership.

Spring in the vineyard can be challenging. Tiny flowers need goldilocks weather to pollinate properly. If the weather is too harsh, grape shatter occurs. Perhaps you have experienced your own version of grape shatter when circumstances beyond your control have interfered with your plans for success.

The integrity and health of the bud is dependent on the long journey it has endured over the past year. The tiny buds all across the vineyard hold the entire harvest for this year. So much hope and expectancy are packed into those tiny buds!

The vineyard in winter gives us a picture of hope.

Every branch that bore fruit this past year has been pruned back.  If the vine could talk, we could imagine it describing adversity, sadness, and excruciating discomfort in the pruning process. Perhaps, to the vine, pruning feels like wounding or like all hope is lost.  There certainly is no evidence of fruitfulness.  But if we lean in, we can see tiny, brown buds left where the old cane was cut off.