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Relationships are a very common topic in the world of psychotherapy. From explorations of conflicts within current relationships to the yearnings and desires for yet-to-be-had relationships; thoughts, feelings, and theories on this topic fly around therapy rooms across the globe. Often, the question of how to create more fulfilling relationships arises. My best answer to this question is to work on one’s own self-awareness. Put the focus on you.
As human beings, we tend to be fond of feeling guilty and placing blame—both of which are strategies for avoiding self-awareness and the responsibility that comes with it. The blame game is the more obvious of the two strategies: If the conflict or lack of fulfillment is someone else’s fault, then I am absolved of all responsibility and need only to shift my external circumstances (which is often easier, albeit less permanent, than shifting from the inside out). Guilt functions similarly. If I feel guilty, then my remorse takes the place of responsibility: It is enough that I feel guilty for being mean to you; I don’t also need to change the motivations that led me there. Guilt often amounts to another form of shirking responsibility.
Working toward self-awareness is much more empowering than guilt or blame, and it does wonders for relationships. Self-awareness refers to a process more than an endpoint, and it is more useful to think of it as a verb than a noun. Self-awareness is the process by which we actively gain ever-increasing knowledge of our feelings, thoughts, desires, motivations, fantasies, and behaviors. It works a bit like a camera lens with an expanding panoramic view. At any one time, some things will be brought into focus more than others. And over time, more of the full view will be revealed, and it will be revealed in sharper focus. “Doing” self-awareness is empowering because the more we understand our experiences, especially our motivations and desires, the more choices we have in any given moment. And choosing to create the life one really wants is the most empowering process there is.
Too often, though, we choose things based on fear, and hide behind guilt and blame. Awareness entails that we come to know what we are afraid of and can then ask ourselves, do I want to make this particular decision based on that? And: Is there another choice? The answer to any particular question is not what matters most. What matters most is that you can answer the question with as much information available to you as is possible. Without an ever-increasing sense of awareness, we make decisions based upon a very narrow view of ourselves and the world. We also tend to choose things based on a sort of ignorance that may be rooted in fear. Consider, for example, the impact of having, or not having, an intimate knowledge of your own desires. If you are not aware, in a focused way, of what you want, then you are likely to say yes—consciously or unconsciously—to a whole bunch of things that you don’t want.
As an example, perhaps you are someone for whom it is important to be accepted by family. As a result of this, you say yes to your sister whenever she asks you to watch her dog overnight, which is frequently. The past few times she has come to pick up her adorable pup, you notice feeling irritable toward her. It may be that your desire to be accepted by your sister prevents you from realizing that you do not like watching her dog so frequently because it interferes with your desire to go the gym straight from work. Becoming aware of this desire, though, (in this case, wanting the freedom to go to the gym from work) will prevent you from becoming resentful, full of blame, or burdened by guilt. Instead, it will give you choices—you will not automatically say yes in the future, but rather will be forced to think about what it is that you really want. And although it may make things awkward between you and your sister in the moment, it will prevent the kind of bitterness or distance that creeps into relationships when conflicts are ignored. Awareness will also force you to take full responsibility for your decision. Once aware of your own conflict, you will not have your sister or her pup to blame. Nor will you be left feeling guilty about being so irritated with them. You will be responsible for choosing yes or no each and every time she asks you for this favor. Awareness, choice, and responsibility go hand-in-hand; and they are liberating, empowering, and challenging.
The heart of the matter is this: The more we relate from an authentic (i.e., aware and responsible) place, the more real our connections will be and the less baggage we will carry—both with ourselves and with others. Our relationships become freer and more alive, and we can begin to create the lives we really want. Connecting with oneself from this place of authenticity requires that we really get to know ourselves, to take responsibility for our choices (and therefore our lives), and to risk sharing this full view with others. Seeing everything that’s there, shadow and all, requires a lot of patience, gentleness, acceptance, and self-love. It is also the only road to relationships—and lives—that are fulfilling and authentically creative.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
THE LUNCH-LADY MUSE
I have been talking with my husband, for a while now, about separating. Our paths seem to be taking us in different directions. I crave freedom and change and growth. He is very happy with how things are. I want to take more risks; he prefers security. I want to live life with passion; he enjoys a calmer version of things.
Recently, we had a conversation about change, and the muses that inspire such. He is not a big fan of change, instead opting to maintain the status quo as much as is humanly possible. As a small example, he eats the same thing for lunch every single day, made by the same “lunch-line lady,” who he believes may be his muse. Maria is her name. Over the past few weeks, Maria has gently encouraged him to add red peppers to his usual sandwich. “Would you like red peppers with that?” she lovingly inquires. And, with what I imagine is some trepidation, he agrees. He now eats the same lunch with the addition of red peppers each day, thanks to his muse.
I wonder what Maria must feel as she witnesses him approach in line. My guess is that it is a nurturing feeling—sort of maternal, but more like a wise goddess who can look at a man and know exactly what he needs in order to heal. She saw my husband and knew he needed red peppers. It’s an interesting choice: The addition of color and sweetness to his life. My own choice would have been something like: “Do you want firey, raw sex with that sandwich?” ….or, at least the option of hot peppers. But then again, Maria is probably both more objective and more wise than I am. She seems to know how to work with my husband’s own timetable and realm of experience, whereas I am more likely to impose mine on him. Maria knows that it is important to take small steps, which often have big impact.
After a few weeks of adding red peppers and a conversation about making changes, my husband ordered a different sandwich altogether! And he felt proud of himself for doing so. He also believed that Maria was secretly proud of him, thinking to herself “That’s my boy.” Bolstered by an experience of confidence and a felt sense of support from the lunch-line muse, he may use this experience in a way that leads to even more changes and bigger steps. “What’s next?” he asks. I guess it’s a story to be continued. And whether the changes that come about ever lead to the kind of risk and passion that I crave from a partner seems irrelevant to me now. Rather, what strikes me as significant is that he is on his own path of growth; and like red peppers that inspired it, this is a sweet thing.
Recently, we had a conversation about change, and the muses that inspire such. He is not a big fan of change, instead opting to maintain the status quo as much as is humanly possible. As a small example, he eats the same thing for lunch every single day, made by the same “lunch-line lady,” who he believes may be his muse. Maria is her name. Over the past few weeks, Maria has gently encouraged him to add red peppers to his usual sandwich. “Would you like red peppers with that?” she lovingly inquires. And, with what I imagine is some trepidation, he agrees. He now eats the same lunch with the addition of red peppers each day, thanks to his muse.
I wonder what Maria must feel as she witnesses him approach in line. My guess is that it is a nurturing feeling—sort of maternal, but more like a wise goddess who can look at a man and know exactly what he needs in order to heal. She saw my husband and knew he needed red peppers. It’s an interesting choice: The addition of color and sweetness to his life. My own choice would have been something like: “Do you want firey, raw sex with that sandwich?” ….or, at least the option of hot peppers. But then again, Maria is probably both more objective and more wise than I am. She seems to know how to work with my husband’s own timetable and realm of experience, whereas I am more likely to impose mine on him. Maria knows that it is important to take small steps, which often have big impact.
After a few weeks of adding red peppers and a conversation about making changes, my husband ordered a different sandwich altogether! And he felt proud of himself for doing so. He also believed that Maria was secretly proud of him, thinking to herself “That’s my boy.” Bolstered by an experience of confidence and a felt sense of support from the lunch-line muse, he may use this experience in a way that leads to even more changes and bigger steps. “What’s next?” he asks. I guess it’s a story to be continued. And whether the changes that come about ever lead to the kind of risk and passion that I crave from a partner seems irrelevant to me now. Rather, what strikes me as significant is that he is on his own path of growth; and like red peppers that inspired it, this is a sweet thing.
MESSAGE FROM A SNAKE
I was greeted by a snake on my way into my office this morning. Although startled at first, I took out my phone to snap a picture. I got close to the snake. Too close, I guess, because the snake scurried away disappearing into a bush. I didn’t get the picture, but the essence of the snake is with me today. I’m looking around my office waiting for it to crawl through a corner somewhere.
The truth is I’m both fascinated and totally scared by snakes. I have a purple one, carved from wood and painted with a pattern that creates its tell-tale leathery skin. On this particular snake it's a pattern within which painted flowers are interspersed. The purple, flowery snake sits on my desk. It is much less scary to me than is the garden snake that is sitting right outside my office as I type. Not surprisingly, it is just this ambivalence that marks my relationship with these creatures, who have always been a rich metaphorical symbol for me. Some of the key words and phrases that come to mind for this symbol are: Transformation, temptation, evil, kudilini, shedding of the skin, the garden of Eden, restriction, and freedom.
After the snake scurried away and with my own skin still crawling from this encounter, I sat down at my desk and clicked-in to my favorite website (Plantetwaves.net) to garner some blogging inspiration for the day. This time, a question greeted me. “What do you do with fear?” Well, at the current moment I am looking around my office waiting for it to creep in through a corner! And just a few minutes ago, I tried to snap a picture of it. I guess I try to get close to my fear; to wait for it and then greet it back when it greets me.
Over time, it has become easier to face my fears. I know that doing so helps me to grow, and personal growth is a bit of a necessity for me. It’s an impulse that comes from deep within and I seem to have no choice in the matter. It’s on par with drinking water and sleeping—I just need to do it. This doesn’t mean that I always do it well, or successfully, or even effectively. Far from it. It’s just that I have to grow; and facing fear is part of this.
The more difficult feeling for me is the anxiety that sometimes comes after making a decision that is NOT based in fear. I tend to then feel guilty, as though these decisions are wrong. Some of the things that scare me most are disappointing others, prioritizing my own needs and desires, and putting myself authentically “out there.” I’m desperately afraid of turning into a selfish bitch and I fear hurting other people with my own needs. When I make decisions that are NOT rooted in these fears, I feel guilty. I feel guilty precisely because I am choosing to do something differently, thereby going against everything I thought to be true based on years of growing up in a certain family, culture, religion etc. I’m learning to take this as a good sign, though, as I did with my symbolic snake encounter this morning.
I believe the snake greeted me as a harbinger of transformation. After a very difficult day-- resulting from the kind of non-fear-based decision and ensuing guilt that I referenced above— the universe seems to be sending me a message: That I am, in fact, in the midst of transformation. I’m about to shed my skin, perhaps, even as it crawls with fear.
The truth is I’m both fascinated and totally scared by snakes. I have a purple one, carved from wood and painted with a pattern that creates its tell-tale leathery skin. On this particular snake it's a pattern within which painted flowers are interspersed. The purple, flowery snake sits on my desk. It is much less scary to me than is the garden snake that is sitting right outside my office as I type. Not surprisingly, it is just this ambivalence that marks my relationship with these creatures, who have always been a rich metaphorical symbol for me. Some of the key words and phrases that come to mind for this symbol are: Transformation, temptation, evil, kudilini, shedding of the skin, the garden of Eden, restriction, and freedom.
After the snake scurried away and with my own skin still crawling from this encounter, I sat down at my desk and clicked-in to my favorite website (Plantetwaves.net) to garner some blogging inspiration for the day. This time, a question greeted me. “What do you do with fear?” Well, at the current moment I am looking around my office waiting for it to creep in through a corner! And just a few minutes ago, I tried to snap a picture of it. I guess I try to get close to my fear; to wait for it and then greet it back when it greets me.
Over time, it has become easier to face my fears. I know that doing so helps me to grow, and personal growth is a bit of a necessity for me. It’s an impulse that comes from deep within and I seem to have no choice in the matter. It’s on par with drinking water and sleeping—I just need to do it. This doesn’t mean that I always do it well, or successfully, or even effectively. Far from it. It’s just that I have to grow; and facing fear is part of this.
The more difficult feeling for me is the anxiety that sometimes comes after making a decision that is NOT based in fear. I tend to then feel guilty, as though these decisions are wrong. Some of the things that scare me most are disappointing others, prioritizing my own needs and desires, and putting myself authentically “out there.” I’m desperately afraid of turning into a selfish bitch and I fear hurting other people with my own needs. When I make decisions that are NOT rooted in these fears, I feel guilty. I feel guilty precisely because I am choosing to do something differently, thereby going against everything I thought to be true based on years of growing up in a certain family, culture, religion etc. I’m learning to take this as a good sign, though, as I did with my symbolic snake encounter this morning.
I believe the snake greeted me as a harbinger of transformation. After a very difficult day-- resulting from the kind of non-fear-based decision and ensuing guilt that I referenced above— the universe seems to be sending me a message: That I am, in fact, in the midst of transformation. I’m about to shed my skin, perhaps, even as it crawls with fear.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
SEARCHING FOR WISDOM
I have been thinking, recently, about what my epitaph might say. What words will sum up my life? “She lived and died unhappy, but never stopped trying.” This one is in the lead currently, as I prefer it to “She was competent,” which is the other choice. My friend Eric wrote to me recently and commented that I was “vivid, beautiful, and real.” I would love to live up to those words, but I’m not there yet. Eric sees potential, I believe, and his courageous ability to live vulnerably and share himself openly inspires me. His words made me happy for a moment, even if I didn’t believe them myself.
In any event, it seems I have been blessed and cursed in this life with a quest for wisdom of the spiritual type, a search for happiness, a journeying toward the meaning, or secrets, of life. The search itself, however, seems to create a sort of unhappiness. Obviously, there are lessons of surrender and acceptance in this life that I have yet to fully experience.
In an effort to come closer to all of this, I am searching for spiritual teachers. I think there are teachers out there and that they live the sorts of lives we might consider ordinary. They do dishes and take care of pets and husbands and struggle with illness and loss and the grief and beauty of life both coming and going. They witness, each and every day, "one more sun [come] sliding down the sky” (Counting Crows)-- and they get that this is life. I would like to learn from these souls.
Of course, children embody this wisdom better than any of us. They know a lot about happiness and good living and being present in the now. I witness their engagement with life with curiosity and admiration. I know they have a lot to teach me.
I am guessing that older individuals as well, and perhaps women in particular, know a lot about life. I would like to learn from them. We learn a lot over a lifetime and I am curious about what older women have learned with regard to living fully, openly, and with joy. I am curious to hear what they have to say about suffering. What are their regrets? What were the turning points in their lives? What brings them joy now? What would they tell a 30-something year old about living authentically and fully? After 60 years of living, are they closer to understanding what the meanings of these things we call life and love are?
If you are, or know of, a woman who is approximately 60 years or older who would be willing to meet with me to talk about her life, please contact me at the number below. The “interviews” will be conversations. I will ask individuals to share something about their life history and will ask about significant times and turning-points in their lives. Our conversations will be somewhat of a mix of describing one’s life and reflecting upon what one has learned. At this time, the project is purely personal. I am doing it for my own interest. However, as a psychologist and writer, I may use the material to write a personal or academic piece or to present my findings at a conference at some point in the future. A full consent form explaining the rights of all participants, including confidentiality and privacy, will be provided prior to the interviews.
The criteria are simple: Women who are approximately 60 years or older and who are willing to talk about their lives and what they have learned. Confidential interviews will be scheduled in 1-2 hour blocks, or participants can correspond by email. In-person interviews can be conducted in my office or in a participant’s home or an otherwise agreed upon place. I will begin with open-ended questions and will determine follow-up questions and the direction of the conversation based on responses to the initial questions. I may use astrology as a window into a person’s life and for this reason may ask for birth data prior to the interview; this approach is optional. I am interested in having conversations, more than traditional interviews, about the topics listed above. Participants will be free to share as much or as little as they wish, and all identifying information will remain confidential. It is my hope that participants gain something from the interviews as well. Reflecting on one’s experiences and sharing the stories of one’s life, especially in the presence of a listening ear and heart, can be a therapeutic experience which leaves one with increased self-knowledge, self-empathy, and love.
To learn more or express an interest in the project, please call: 860-432-8016, extension 0.
In any event, it seems I have been blessed and cursed in this life with a quest for wisdom of the spiritual type, a search for happiness, a journeying toward the meaning, or secrets, of life. The search itself, however, seems to create a sort of unhappiness. Obviously, there are lessons of surrender and acceptance in this life that I have yet to fully experience.
In an effort to come closer to all of this, I am searching for spiritual teachers. I think there are teachers out there and that they live the sorts of lives we might consider ordinary. They do dishes and take care of pets and husbands and struggle with illness and loss and the grief and beauty of life both coming and going. They witness, each and every day, "one more sun [come] sliding down the sky” (Counting Crows)-- and they get that this is life. I would like to learn from these souls.
Of course, children embody this wisdom better than any of us. They know a lot about happiness and good living and being present in the now. I witness their engagement with life with curiosity and admiration. I know they have a lot to teach me.
I am guessing that older individuals as well, and perhaps women in particular, know a lot about life. I would like to learn from them. We learn a lot over a lifetime and I am curious about what older women have learned with regard to living fully, openly, and with joy. I am curious to hear what they have to say about suffering. What are their regrets? What were the turning points in their lives? What brings them joy now? What would they tell a 30-something year old about living authentically and fully? After 60 years of living, are they closer to understanding what the meanings of these things we call life and love are?
If you are, or know of, a woman who is approximately 60 years or older who would be willing to meet with me to talk about her life, please contact me at the number below. The “interviews” will be conversations. I will ask individuals to share something about their life history and will ask about significant times and turning-points in their lives. Our conversations will be somewhat of a mix of describing one’s life and reflecting upon what one has learned. At this time, the project is purely personal. I am doing it for my own interest. However, as a psychologist and writer, I may use the material to write a personal or academic piece or to present my findings at a conference at some point in the future. A full consent form explaining the rights of all participants, including confidentiality and privacy, will be provided prior to the interviews.
The criteria are simple: Women who are approximately 60 years or older and who are willing to talk about their lives and what they have learned. Confidential interviews will be scheduled in 1-2 hour blocks, or participants can correspond by email. In-person interviews can be conducted in my office or in a participant’s home or an otherwise agreed upon place. I will begin with open-ended questions and will determine follow-up questions and the direction of the conversation based on responses to the initial questions. I may use astrology as a window into a person’s life and for this reason may ask for birth data prior to the interview; this approach is optional. I am interested in having conversations, more than traditional interviews, about the topics listed above. Participants will be free to share as much or as little as they wish, and all identifying information will remain confidential. It is my hope that participants gain something from the interviews as well. Reflecting on one’s experiences and sharing the stories of one’s life, especially in the presence of a listening ear and heart, can be a therapeutic experience which leaves one with increased self-knowledge, self-empathy, and love.
To learn more or express an interest in the project, please call: 860-432-8016, extension 0.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Scapegoating Farve: A Psychological Lesson in Self-Awareness
As a psychologist, football fan, and individual who is interested in the cultural ethos of our time, it saddens me that the American public, both supported by and supportive of mainstream media outlets, could so easily turn an ordinary man, whom they once deemed a hero, into a scapegoat—a dynamic which reflects the pervasive lack of self-awareness and accountability within our culture. Scapegoating is always the result of lack of accountability on the part of the individuals pointing the fingers.
As I see it, the Farve situation is not so complicated. Brett Farve, and any human being on this planet, has the right to change his mind. Period. The people around him, namely the Green Bay Packers, have the option of saying yes or no to his playing: They can choose to release him or bench him or start him. Period. Of course, there are procedures to follow, but in essence it is all really this simple. The seemingly complicated nature of the negotiations and public relations nightmare emerges when the parties do not take responsibility for their choices, and when the public refuses to take ownership of their responses.
I am not so naïve that I don’t understand the extreme competition that serves as a backdrop for decisions being made. Still, they are decisions that will in fact be made and each party involved will need to live with, and hopefully own, the consequences of such. This includes Farve living with the consequences of deciding to retire, apparently prematurely, back in March. Whether pressured in some way or not, it was his decision and he made it. If he completes official procedures required for reinstatement—which he has the right to do, the Packers will have decisions to make, for which they will need to accept accountability. Pointing fingers at each other is a poor strategy for not owning choices made and their consequences. To get through this with dignity, both Farve and the Packers will need to take fuller responsibility for the choices they are making.
How sports fans and non-sports fans alike then believe that this has something to do with them personally reflects a culture-wide problem much bigger than a football franchise. Fans everywhere were deeply touched witnessing the power of the human spirit on December 22, 2003 when Farve threw for what was arguably the game of his life one day after the sudden death of his father. Not five years later, many of these fans seem eager to crucify this same spirit. How can we understand this? In much the same way that Farve and the Packers have been attempting to shirk accountability for decisions made and to be made, fans fail to acknowledge why this situation “triggers” them. It is easy to identify with and support a person in their vulnerability because in such a state they are not threatening to us. I believe that Farve’s potential decision to be reinstated is psychologically threatening for many individuals, and to the public at large. If we could have looked inward at why this might be so rather than scapegoating Farve for our own insecurities, not only would we have averted what is now an entangled mess, but we could have learned something valuable about ourselves. The good news is that the saga is ongoing and gives those of us with strong responses an opportunity to learn something. We need only to be willing to accept ownership for all of our reactions, rather than projecting them onto the same man we projected hero status not too long ago. Here is a hint to get you started: Notice any judgments you are making about Farve and/or the Packers, then apply those words to yourself and acknowledge any fears that exist related to such judgments. Let’s do our part to increase self-awareness and accountability within the game of football, and within our world.
As I see it, the Farve situation is not so complicated. Brett Farve, and any human being on this planet, has the right to change his mind. Period. The people around him, namely the Green Bay Packers, have the option of saying yes or no to his playing: They can choose to release him or bench him or start him. Period. Of course, there are procedures to follow, but in essence it is all really this simple. The seemingly complicated nature of the negotiations and public relations nightmare emerges when the parties do not take responsibility for their choices, and when the public refuses to take ownership of their responses.
I am not so naïve that I don’t understand the extreme competition that serves as a backdrop for decisions being made. Still, they are decisions that will in fact be made and each party involved will need to live with, and hopefully own, the consequences of such. This includes Farve living with the consequences of deciding to retire, apparently prematurely, back in March. Whether pressured in some way or not, it was his decision and he made it. If he completes official procedures required for reinstatement—which he has the right to do, the Packers will have decisions to make, for which they will need to accept accountability. Pointing fingers at each other is a poor strategy for not owning choices made and their consequences. To get through this with dignity, both Farve and the Packers will need to take fuller responsibility for the choices they are making.
How sports fans and non-sports fans alike then believe that this has something to do with them personally reflects a culture-wide problem much bigger than a football franchise. Fans everywhere were deeply touched witnessing the power of the human spirit on December 22, 2003 when Farve threw for what was arguably the game of his life one day after the sudden death of his father. Not five years later, many of these fans seem eager to crucify this same spirit. How can we understand this? In much the same way that Farve and the Packers have been attempting to shirk accountability for decisions made and to be made, fans fail to acknowledge why this situation “triggers” them. It is easy to identify with and support a person in their vulnerability because in such a state they are not threatening to us. I believe that Farve’s potential decision to be reinstated is psychologically threatening for many individuals, and to the public at large. If we could have looked inward at why this might be so rather than scapegoating Farve for our own insecurities, not only would we have averted what is now an entangled mess, but we could have learned something valuable about ourselves. The good news is that the saga is ongoing and gives those of us with strong responses an opportunity to learn something. We need only to be willing to accept ownership for all of our reactions, rather than projecting them onto the same man we projected hero status not too long ago. Here is a hint to get you started: Notice any judgments you are making about Farve and/or the Packers, then apply those words to yourself and acknowledge any fears that exist related to such judgments. Let’s do our part to increase self-awareness and accountability within the game of football, and within our world.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
MY IDEAL MAN
A guitar playing carpenter. Scorpio sun-sign, Pisces or Scorpio moon, and Capricorn rising. He has a watery, receptive energy that is balanced by a masculine drive, which means he works tirelessly at his trade. And when he comes home at night, he has the large, beautiful, worn, blistery hands to prove it. Hands which call for my nurturing touch to help heal them.
Although accustomed to using his right hand more dominantly, he has learned to use his tools ambidextrously, so that his left side is equally strong. He has done this for me. I sleep to his left and he knows how the safety of biceps and triceps that I can really grab hold of turns me on. So he uses his left arm for my eventual pleasure.
When I look into his deep, dark eyes, I see into the ocean that is his soul: Bottomless and Engulfing, and I feel as though I could drown in there and be happy. His earthy, fixed energy, though, always knows when to pull me out to safety, even as he allows me to live there much of the time.
He wears work boots like the ones painted by Van Gough: Dark, worn leather. And when I see them by the front door, covered in mud, grass, and saw-dust, I glimpse the beauty of his world, a beauty brought to life through him. And I fantasize that I brought him to life. That I was his muse-- his in-spiration. That I sculpted him. And when finished, that I put my mouth on his and breathed my breath into him, bringing him to life. At that moment, it did not matter if I could be with him in the future... because the ache of not having him-- the pain of never-to-be-fulfilled pining for this beautiful man-- was worth that one kiss. I often feel as though I would give my life for that one kiss; and for this Ideal Man.
Although accustomed to using his right hand more dominantly, he has learned to use his tools ambidextrously, so that his left side is equally strong. He has done this for me. I sleep to his left and he knows how the safety of biceps and triceps that I can really grab hold of turns me on. So he uses his left arm for my eventual pleasure.
When I look into his deep, dark eyes, I see into the ocean that is his soul: Bottomless and Engulfing, and I feel as though I could drown in there and be happy. His earthy, fixed energy, though, always knows when to pull me out to safety, even as he allows me to live there much of the time.
He wears work boots like the ones painted by Van Gough: Dark, worn leather. And when I see them by the front door, covered in mud, grass, and saw-dust, I glimpse the beauty of his world, a beauty brought to life through him. And I fantasize that I brought him to life. That I was his muse-- his in-spiration. That I sculpted him. And when finished, that I put my mouth on his and breathed my breath into him, bringing him to life. At that moment, it did not matter if I could be with him in the future... because the ache of not having him-- the pain of never-to-be-fulfilled pining for this beautiful man-- was worth that one kiss. I often feel as though I would give my life for that one kiss; and for this Ideal Man.
THE DARK SIDE OF COMPROMISE
On the playground, we’re told of this value;
The one supposedly essential to life.
“You can’t always have things your way.
Play your game for five minutes,
then play his.”
Some adults monitor this with a watch.
What if my game takes more than five minutes? I wonder.
And in relationships, we’re told this is a necessity;
One which will make or break the deal.
“If you want a small house
and he wants a big one
build medium.”
And the marriage counselor measures the couples’ progress.
But what if neither of us wants a medium one? I plead.
As for careers, it is written in the stars;
You take the bad with the good.
“If you want flexible hours
and they want to pay you shit,
then eat the shit.”
The world constrains passion with degrees of freedom.
But what if I don’t like the taste of shit, even with flexible hours? I cry.
With multiple authors, there is no other way;
The truth of one’s voice must submit.
“You can’t ever have your way:
use her truth in this paragraph,
and yours in the next.”
The editor obliterates both with a new fiction.
But what if I can only express the truth and don’t want to write fiction? I now only think (to myself).
So, in life, this value becomes ingrained;
It is a given which we now take for granted.
“When you want things your way,
and the world believes another,
give up.”
Most adults don’t even have to monitor this (anymore).
What if I don’t want to give up? I no longer protest.
The one supposedly essential to life.
“You can’t always have things your way.
Play your game for five minutes,
then play his.”
Some adults monitor this with a watch.
What if my game takes more than five minutes? I wonder.
And in relationships, we’re told this is a necessity;
One which will make or break the deal.
“If you want a small house
and he wants a big one
build medium.”
And the marriage counselor measures the couples’ progress.
But what if neither of us wants a medium one? I plead.
As for careers, it is written in the stars;
You take the bad with the good.
“If you want flexible hours
and they want to pay you shit,
then eat the shit.”
The world constrains passion with degrees of freedom.
But what if I don’t like the taste of shit, even with flexible hours? I cry.
With multiple authors, there is no other way;
The truth of one’s voice must submit.
“You can’t ever have your way:
use her truth in this paragraph,
and yours in the next.”
The editor obliterates both with a new fiction.
But what if I can only express the truth and don’t want to write fiction? I now only think (to myself).
So, in life, this value becomes ingrained;
It is a given which we now take for granted.
“When you want things your way,
and the world believes another,
give up.”
Most adults don’t even have to monitor this (anymore).
What if I don’t want to give up? I no longer protest.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Always a Caterpillar
To get to the other side
and earn my wings…
The mantra kept me going.
Through the dark night
I dreamt of what colors would decorate my wings
after the transformation
What might it feel like
to fly…
And land on a flower?
I will stay in my cocoon
Until the moment arrives
for the transformation.
I can be patient
and earn my wings…
I tell myself as the tears fall.
And when the tears stopped falling
And the night in fact ended,
I looked for the transformation.
But no color was found
and I still couldn’t fly…
Or glimpse an other side.
Always a caterpillar
And never a butterfly
I now get used to saying.
and earn my wings…
The mantra kept me going.
Through the dark night
I dreamt of what colors would decorate my wings
after the transformation
What might it feel like
to fly…
And land on a flower?
I will stay in my cocoon
Until the moment arrives
for the transformation.
I can be patient
and earn my wings…
I tell myself as the tears fall.
And when the tears stopped falling
And the night in fact ended,
I looked for the transformation.
But no color was found
and I still couldn’t fly…
Or glimpse an other side.
Always a caterpillar
And never a butterfly
I now get used to saying.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
DEATH, ART, LOVE, & SEX
“Letting go is one of the sexiest and most pleasurable things known to humanity.”
--- Eric Francis; writer, photographer, astrologer (see planetwaves.com)
I woke up from a really good dream this morning, full of all of my favorite dream themes—a handsome man, feelings of desire, sexual tension, a feeling of being truly loved, and images of myself being free and spontaneous. The dream was so pleasurable that waking up brought a sense of profound sorrow. I wanted to hold on to it. To make it my reality. And then to hold on to that reality and never let it go.
This is one of the reasons I write: To capture an experience in an attempt to give it some form and permanence, even though I know that the most the words can do is to point to something that can never be captured fully, something that disappears just as quickly as the words hit page. Still, it’s all I have, and I therefore accept that this is enough. I woke up feeling as though I wanted to hold on to my dream forever. Writing about it, though, will have to be enough. And this further requires a letting-go. Still, the longing remains.
I have often thought about writing, and art more generally, as a form of making love with the world. This is not an original idea, likening creativity to sexuality. Many, many others have made this link before me. One way of understanding this widely-made observation is that making love, like making art, can be about this oscillation of holding-on and letting-go. The passion of some sexual encounters is fueled by a desire to hold on to a feeling, to embody it, to ex-press it, and to give it form. The desire that rages within needs expression, which in turn offers it a reality, a form, a sort-of place within the world which then, just as it’s expressed, disappears. Moreover, the very act of expression (i.e., what we do in an attempt to hold on to the feeling in the first place) itself requires a letting go or giving-over to the experience itself.
I wonder if life is “just” a series of moments of embodying something and then letting go. Embodying something and then letting go. The impulse to hold on to something, to embody it, is an essential part of creating one’s life and giving it a particular form. Letting go is equally essential. Imagine, if you will, not having the letting-go part. Imagine having to have the same experience continuously. In truth, holding on to an experience continuously, however pleasurable it may be in a moment, is a sure form of torture, though it’s what many of us try to do, in a way. Imagine always eating chocolate cake, a never-ending kiss, or a runner’s high that goes on forever. The person eating the cake would never get to have the kiss. And the runner couldn’t eat chocolate cake, while the kisser couldn’t run. It is the letting go which allows us to be open to the next experience: The next… sexy dream, tender moment, encounter with another, feeling, thought, walk outside, accomplishment, failure, piece of art, trip to the post office, day, season, phase of life….
Letting go is what allows life to move. The French word for orgasm translates as “little death.” Sex and death are the ultimate in letting go. Living life as a series of letting-go moments is then akin to making love to the world, with the full experience of orgasm; or of dying to the world, with the full potential for rebirth. Eric’s quote, above, captures this well. So, too, do tantric philosophies which espouse beginning with one’s desire and making love to the world, each on the way toward a kind-of metaphorical rebirth. Springtime is ripe for such a way of living. In certain parts of the world right now, rebirth is all around us, as are opportunities to desire the world. I encourage us all to try to grasp these opportunities, even as we let them go.
--- Eric Francis; writer, photographer, astrologer (see planetwaves.com)
I woke up from a really good dream this morning, full of all of my favorite dream themes—a handsome man, feelings of desire, sexual tension, a feeling of being truly loved, and images of myself being free and spontaneous. The dream was so pleasurable that waking up brought a sense of profound sorrow. I wanted to hold on to it. To make it my reality. And then to hold on to that reality and never let it go.
This is one of the reasons I write: To capture an experience in an attempt to give it some form and permanence, even though I know that the most the words can do is to point to something that can never be captured fully, something that disappears just as quickly as the words hit page. Still, it’s all I have, and I therefore accept that this is enough. I woke up feeling as though I wanted to hold on to my dream forever. Writing about it, though, will have to be enough. And this further requires a letting-go. Still, the longing remains.
I have often thought about writing, and art more generally, as a form of making love with the world. This is not an original idea, likening creativity to sexuality. Many, many others have made this link before me. One way of understanding this widely-made observation is that making love, like making art, can be about this oscillation of holding-on and letting-go. The passion of some sexual encounters is fueled by a desire to hold on to a feeling, to embody it, to ex-press it, and to give it form. The desire that rages within needs expression, which in turn offers it a reality, a form, a sort-of place within the world which then, just as it’s expressed, disappears. Moreover, the very act of expression (i.e., what we do in an attempt to hold on to the feeling in the first place) itself requires a letting go or giving-over to the experience itself.
I wonder if life is “just” a series of moments of embodying something and then letting go. Embodying something and then letting go. The impulse to hold on to something, to embody it, is an essential part of creating one’s life and giving it a particular form. Letting go is equally essential. Imagine, if you will, not having the letting-go part. Imagine having to have the same experience continuously. In truth, holding on to an experience continuously, however pleasurable it may be in a moment, is a sure form of torture, though it’s what many of us try to do, in a way. Imagine always eating chocolate cake, a never-ending kiss, or a runner’s high that goes on forever. The person eating the cake would never get to have the kiss. And the runner couldn’t eat chocolate cake, while the kisser couldn’t run. It is the letting go which allows us to be open to the next experience: The next… sexy dream, tender moment, encounter with another, feeling, thought, walk outside, accomplishment, failure, piece of art, trip to the post office, day, season, phase of life….
Letting go is what allows life to move. The French word for orgasm translates as “little death.” Sex and death are the ultimate in letting go. Living life as a series of letting-go moments is then akin to making love to the world, with the full experience of orgasm; or of dying to the world, with the full potential for rebirth. Eric’s quote, above, captures this well. So, too, do tantric philosophies which espouse beginning with one’s desire and making love to the world, each on the way toward a kind-of metaphorical rebirth. Springtime is ripe for such a way of living. In certain parts of the world right now, rebirth is all around us, as are opportunities to desire the world. I encourage us all to try to grasp these opportunities, even as we let them go.
LETTING GO IN LONG TERM RELATIONSHIPS
Half of all marriages end in divorce. This is now a well known statistic.
I often wonder: Of those marriages that survive, how many are generally happy ones? How many are healthy? And what defines a healthy relationship in the first place?
I believe that all long-term relationships—be they romantic, friendly, collegiate, or familial, as well as relationships within and between groups and organizations—can be vessels for profound transformation. I believe these same relationships can also be dangerous, which I realize is a strange description for all long-term relationships. The potential danger, it seems to me, is that long-term relationships tempt us to be stagnant. The mark of a healthy and happy relationship, then, is the extent to which the parties involved can face this danger head-on, thereby creating a vessel that is strong enough for transformation.
Easier said than done.
Letting go is what allows life to move. It is also what allows relationships to move. But they can stop moving, and when things become stagnant, the individuals within the relationship are in danger-- in danger of resentment, bitterness, boredom, depression, anxiety, apathy, and not fully living.
Like with many things in life, the positive benefits of something are one side of a coin, the opposite-side of which is the potential danger. When a relationship exists over time, we slip into patterns, which themselves may be marked by an easiness and comfort. In relationships with established patterns, we can take for granted that he’ll always do x, y, or z, and this allows us to do A, B, or C. If these arrangements work for both people (or both organizations/ groups), then we achieve a welcome sense of security, comfort, and peace. Human beings find security in knowing what to expect; we experience comfort when we can depend on someone else; we are often peaceful when things are calm and predictable. At best, these kinds of interactions are like a beautiful dance in which two or more people move fluidly with one another, creating something that feels familiar and spontaneous all at the same time. The experience of such a dance is one of the many benefits of long-term relationships. Before we know it, though,—and, if we’re not vigilant, just outside of our awareness—the other side of this coin shows itself. This same dance can become rote, empty, and lifeless. We wake up one day to the realization that patterns within our relationships, which we’ve helped to create, hold us back. And worse, that these arrangements are similar to the patterns that have always characterized our lives, from the time we were very young.
This is where the relationship’s potential as a healing vessel enters the picture. We can use the relationship, with the comfort and security that has been established thus far, to work through these patterns. To change. To transform. Instead of running away, we stick with the difficulties and develop an awareness about how they have been created and what we can do differently in the future to prevent the same difficulties from arising, again and again.
Easier said than done.
Therapy for the individuals involved and for the relationship itself can be very helpful. Transformation within relationship requires at least several elements, all of which can benefit from the support of ongoing therapy. Respect for oneself and for the other person is necessary. Assuming responsibility for one’s own part in the patterns is also a key element of potential transformation. It is never one person’s fault. Stepping away from blame and replacing it with compassion and understanding for how the relationship got to be where it is now is usually helpful. Perhaps most importantly, the capacity for courage and the willingness to take some risks are essential.
The greatest risk is that of awareness, and so the first question of risk goes something like this: Am I willing to open my eyes (and heart) wide enough to acknowledge that certain patterns are not working? If you get this far, the next questions might be: Am I willing to let go of some of the safety, security, and ease that my patterns offer in order to gain back the life and spontaneity that has been lost? And am I willing to risk losing the relationship as it exists now and maybe altogether, in order to possibly experience its rebirth? I am willing to risk letting go of something of who the other person is to me in order to allow him the freedom to become something more? Finally, am I willing to risk losing something of who I am in the relationship in order to possibly become something more? More simply: Am I willing to let go in order to create something new?
In truth, letting go is one of the most challenging experiences many human beings face, and the reason for this is fear. We tend to repeat the same patters and have the same experiences because we cannot trust in something new. Because we’re holding on to what we know. Because we cannot tolerate the not-knowing. Because we fear letting go, and changing, and the discoveries we might make in this process.
If you are feeling stuck in life, stagnant in your relationships, or fearful of an intimate relationship in the first place, it might be helpful to ask:
What might you need to let go of?
Where do you need more trust?
What are you most afraid of losing?
What goals are you willing to take risks for?
What you are holding on to, and why?
What is the price of holding-on and is it worth it?
Can you allow yourself to die to one experience in order to birth another?
What feels most scary about this?
Can you die to one identity so that you can experience others?
What is your biggest fear around losing that identity?
These are admittedly very difficult questions. They are, though, the questions we need to ask if we wish to risk changing for a fuller life. The important place to begin is asking these questions in the first place, and then thought-fully answering them. There are many reasons that a person would not want to take such risks, and sometimes not risking is the right answer for a particular person or situation. Likewise, not all relationships can be saved or renewed. What is essential, though, for anyone who wants to avoid the many dangers listed above, is to dare to ask the questions and to then answer honestly, rather than avoiding ever facing them in the first place.
I often wonder: Of those marriages that survive, how many are generally happy ones? How many are healthy? And what defines a healthy relationship in the first place?
I believe that all long-term relationships—be they romantic, friendly, collegiate, or familial, as well as relationships within and between groups and organizations—can be vessels for profound transformation. I believe these same relationships can also be dangerous, which I realize is a strange description for all long-term relationships. The potential danger, it seems to me, is that long-term relationships tempt us to be stagnant. The mark of a healthy and happy relationship, then, is the extent to which the parties involved can face this danger head-on, thereby creating a vessel that is strong enough for transformation.
Easier said than done.
Letting go is what allows life to move. It is also what allows relationships to move. But they can stop moving, and when things become stagnant, the individuals within the relationship are in danger-- in danger of resentment, bitterness, boredom, depression, anxiety, apathy, and not fully living.
Like with many things in life, the positive benefits of something are one side of a coin, the opposite-side of which is the potential danger. When a relationship exists over time, we slip into patterns, which themselves may be marked by an easiness and comfort. In relationships with established patterns, we can take for granted that he’ll always do x, y, or z, and this allows us to do A, B, or C. If these arrangements work for both people (or both organizations/ groups), then we achieve a welcome sense of security, comfort, and peace. Human beings find security in knowing what to expect; we experience comfort when we can depend on someone else; we are often peaceful when things are calm and predictable. At best, these kinds of interactions are like a beautiful dance in which two or more people move fluidly with one another, creating something that feels familiar and spontaneous all at the same time. The experience of such a dance is one of the many benefits of long-term relationships. Before we know it, though,—and, if we’re not vigilant, just outside of our awareness—the other side of this coin shows itself. This same dance can become rote, empty, and lifeless. We wake up one day to the realization that patterns within our relationships, which we’ve helped to create, hold us back. And worse, that these arrangements are similar to the patterns that have always characterized our lives, from the time we were very young.
This is where the relationship’s potential as a healing vessel enters the picture. We can use the relationship, with the comfort and security that has been established thus far, to work through these patterns. To change. To transform. Instead of running away, we stick with the difficulties and develop an awareness about how they have been created and what we can do differently in the future to prevent the same difficulties from arising, again and again.
Easier said than done.
Therapy for the individuals involved and for the relationship itself can be very helpful. Transformation within relationship requires at least several elements, all of which can benefit from the support of ongoing therapy. Respect for oneself and for the other person is necessary. Assuming responsibility for one’s own part in the patterns is also a key element of potential transformation. It is never one person’s fault. Stepping away from blame and replacing it with compassion and understanding for how the relationship got to be where it is now is usually helpful. Perhaps most importantly, the capacity for courage and the willingness to take some risks are essential.
The greatest risk is that of awareness, and so the first question of risk goes something like this: Am I willing to open my eyes (and heart) wide enough to acknowledge that certain patterns are not working? If you get this far, the next questions might be: Am I willing to let go of some of the safety, security, and ease that my patterns offer in order to gain back the life and spontaneity that has been lost? And am I willing to risk losing the relationship as it exists now and maybe altogether, in order to possibly experience its rebirth? I am willing to risk letting go of something of who the other person is to me in order to allow him the freedom to become something more? Finally, am I willing to risk losing something of who I am in the relationship in order to possibly become something more? More simply: Am I willing to let go in order to create something new?
In truth, letting go is one of the most challenging experiences many human beings face, and the reason for this is fear. We tend to repeat the same patters and have the same experiences because we cannot trust in something new. Because we’re holding on to what we know. Because we cannot tolerate the not-knowing. Because we fear letting go, and changing, and the discoveries we might make in this process.
If you are feeling stuck in life, stagnant in your relationships, or fearful of an intimate relationship in the first place, it might be helpful to ask:
What might you need to let go of?
Where do you need more trust?
What are you most afraid of losing?
What goals are you willing to take risks for?
What you are holding on to, and why?
What is the price of holding-on and is it worth it?
Can you allow yourself to die to one experience in order to birth another?
What feels most scary about this?
Can you die to one identity so that you can experience others?
What is your biggest fear around losing that identity?
These are admittedly very difficult questions. They are, though, the questions we need to ask if we wish to risk changing for a fuller life. The important place to begin is asking these questions in the first place, and then thought-fully answering them. There are many reasons that a person would not want to take such risks, and sometimes not risking is the right answer for a particular person or situation. Likewise, not all relationships can be saved or renewed. What is essential, though, for anyone who wants to avoid the many dangers listed above, is to dare to ask the questions and to then answer honestly, rather than avoiding ever facing them in the first place.
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