Issue link: http://maconmagazine.uberflip.com/i/1525586
August/September 2024 | maconmagazine.com 71 twice a month. The group developed from the imagination of Rachel McInnis, who has practiced meditation for several years. She dreamed of a public meditation space. But she just kept buying coff ees for herself and donuts for her children, simmering on the idea. McInnis shares that later, in a vulnerable conversation, meditation instructor Maria Andrade and bakery owner Adriana Horton "loved my little dream into reality." Scott Mitchell hosts a similar group at The Bohemian Den, his business on Cherry Street. Local musicians, pastors, customers, and artists gather inside the store for meditation. Mitchell says meditation off ers a grounding, a reset, and "a crack in the door to try something new." Meditation at Oh Honey looked like people interrupting their regular morning routines to "grab a drink and some breakfast, share about their own lived experiences," McInnis says. Gathered in the midst of a busy coff ee shop, "everyone off ered such a compassionate and supportive tether to each other. What started out as a way to bring the skill of meditation practice to the community transformed into this community of brave Maconites." The meditation group would be "sitting with our thoughts in a space where other people walking around with their eyes open can see us, with our eyes closed, sitting with our thoughts." To the discomfort that brought, McInnis said, "I mean, we probably do really look weird. Vulnerability for our group means being okay with being weird because the benefi ts we receive from the practice and from being together so outweigh any judgment." Over the chatter of nearby customers, McInnis made space for vulnerability. Brené Brown, New York Times bestselling author and sociology researcher, defi nes vulnerability as "uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure." Exposure is something we usually avoid. We shore ourselves with a personal sense of armor: chitchat, niceties, and busyness. We avoid disruption and protect our comfort. "The great pandemic of our lives right now is comfort," says Brown to her audience. "That somehow we believe that we are entitled to be comfortable. And I have never done anything really meaningful in my life that was comfortable." In July, the group faced a new challenge. Oh Honey suddenly closed. McInnis wondered, "How can we honor that sweet space where we found each other, but presently attend to the sweetness of the group that moves on?" She said the abrupt closure required them to practice being open to discomfort, trusting the magic of connection that they build no matter where they sit. They've since moved the group to Sweet Eleanor's downtown. "It will take a few sets in any new spot. New sounds, new smells, new sofa. But we can hold space for the unsettled feelings. We can be with them, especially if we are together." She says the group is grieving the loss of their home space and for their friends in the business. But the group also holding space for joy. Joy can hold all other emotions inside it, McInnis said. In the new space, "we can practice feeding our joy(s) so it can grow big enough to hold our grief(s)." Meeting beyond the Temple Discomfort was a catalyst for another group that has become a beautiful picture of community. Sophie Rosen, a member of Temple Beth Israel, grew up feeling secure inside the sacred walls of her temple. But connection was missing. "Growing up in Macon, I did not have any Jewish friends," said Rosen. Finding other Jewish students during college taught Rosen the importance of togetherness with like- minded people of faith, so Rosen began to seek communal gatherings. In the summer of 2023, acts of antisemitism in Macon "shook our Jewish community to its core," she recalled. What had been a place of refuge became a scene that caused alarm. The presence of security in the parking lot "triggered a lot of fear and anxiety related to the current events surrounding synagogues throughout the world." Rosen leaned into the discomfort. She named the sense of fear. She embraced the sense of exposure and let it spark Interfaith Mission campers and sta at the Islamic Center of Middle Georgia. Photo courtesy of Centenary UMC. "Daring to move the arena for spiritual encounters from the inside of a sanctuary and out to common spaces is a vulnerable act that often leads to beautiful connections. "