Path, Process & Presence

Everything Has A Crack In It...

2012-02-13T15:50:00.000-05:00

I've been giving my flaws a lot of thought lately. Truth be told, I've been giving everyone's flaws a lot of thought lately. I hear people say, "No one's perfect" on a regular basis. If that isn't said, then the other fall back position is, "Everyone makes mistakes." It seems people will go out of their way to confess to imperfections as long as the confession is generic and doesn't demand too much. It's frustrating to see how much energy goes into avoiding the acknowledgement of deep and abiding imperfection. This is particularly true when a heartfelt acknowledgement of the truth more often than not results in forgiveness and reconciliation. For all of our flaws, most of us are genuinely interested in connection...even if we have no real understanding of how it's to be achieved.

I like Leonard Cohen a lot. He's certainly a flawed man. Maybe it's his understanding of that fact that makes his songs so compelling. He has a song called "Anthem" that contains the line, "Everything has a crack in it. That's how the light gets in." The older I get, the more obvious it is to me that our flaws create a path to the deepest connection. Perfection offers no entry point. Whatever effort we make to appear seamless, is just so much avoidance. Genuine relationships are built on the acceptance of our flaws not on their absence.

Submission

2011-10-21T07:12:00.000-04:00

I came of age in the late 60's...a time of cultural revolution. Sometimes I like to think of myself as a member of the Woodstock Generation but the truth is that I grew up in a small farming community in Central Kansas...a long way from Woodstock and all that came with it. Aside from beer, there were no drugs in my high school. By today's standards, mine was a very sheltered childhood and adolescence. Traditional family values were taken for granted. Everyone knew their place and the community did what it needed to do to keep everyone where they "belonged."

Despite the buffer of wheat fields and miles of empty space, the events of the late 60's and early 70's left their mark on my life. By the time I graduated from high school, it was clear that I didn't fit well in that small town. Leaving Kansas for three years in France and Algeria, introduced me to all the "isms" of the time including feminism and socialism. I wholeheartedly embraced the notions of equality that came with those perspectives. By the time I entered the American workforce as a college professor in the late 70's I enthusiastically identified myself as a feminist and less obviously as a socialist. Although I'm still committed to equality and providing a level playing field to one and all, the way I think about all that now is quite different from the way I thought about it then. Thirty years of teaching and practice have brought an evolving perspective and a new appreciation for some of the things I threw overboard when I left Kansas.

Converts too often become zealots. My conversion to the equality promised by the "ism's" of the 70's left me a zealot. One of the first things I threw overboard was the notion of submission. For me, there was no place in a world of equality for something so unequal as submission. The word acquired an ugliness that made it difficult to utter without disdain.

Thirty years later, I see the inequality that naturally comes with life--inequality that can't be overcome. Some things are, by their nature, bigger than we are. I spend a lot of time with people who feel overwhelmed by the circumstances of their lives. Their circumstances are bigger than anything they are or could become. Listening to them tell their stories often reminds me of being in heavy surf. Resisting a large wave by trying to stand up to it almost inevitably leads to being thrown into the sand, pummeled and spit out on the beach wondering what just happened. The alternative, submission, means lying down as the wave approaches, letting it wash over and dissipate.

Submitting to one's life circumstance doesn't mean giving up. It means giving in. It means recognizing the "biggness" of the circumstance and allowing it to wash over us so that when the wave passes we can get up and prepare for the next wave. And, there will be another wave. Without the ability to submit, we are left with the inevitable prospect of being repeatedly thrown into the sand, pummeled and spit out on the beach completely unprepared for the next wave. And, there will be another wave.

Special or Ordinary

2011-08-27T18:36:00.000-04:00

I suppose I shouldn't be but, I'm always a little startled by how intensely people want to feel special. It makes sense that over a generation of media efforts to boost our children's self-esteem would result in the deeply held belief that we are unique and therefore special. Indeed, it's good to remember that we are special. But, it seems equally good to remember that we are pretty completely ordinary. Ordinary is what connects us to others. Ordinary is what guarantees similarity of experience. If each of us were completely unique, we would have little, if any, overlapping experience and therefore little to generate connection.

It's interesting to me that one of the most complimentary things you can say about someone you have believed to be special is, "He/She was so down-to-earth.." Although we often long to be special to someone, we also look forward to those times when we notice the "ordinaryness" of those we have made special.

Just as it feels like a gift when someone notices the ways we are special, it can be gift to others when we notice the ways we are completely ordinary.

Coming to Terms

2011-07-24T12:39:00.000-04:00

I was recently interviewed by a reporter from my local newspaper. He was working on an article about what couples need to address before getting married. Understandably, he wanted short answers to what feel like very complicated questions. I did my best to avoid offering short answers but doubt the article will reflect that effort. The whole thing reminded me how strongly we want quick and relatively painless routes to our desired goals.

Giving that interview rekindled a line of thought I've struggled with for the past number of months. That line of thought has to do with my own desire to find a quick and relatively painless route to the goals I've set for myself. The truth is that in order to successfully embark on the desired path, I first have to come to terms with myself. Coming to terms with myself demands the ability to thoroughly and compassionately take a "moral inventory" (to borrow a term from 12-step language) of my own life in all its dimensions. When taking this inventory, I've noticed the temptation to think that it's most important to catalog shortcomings, failures and flaws. Though noting those is essential, it is likely more important to note the places where I can exercise the courage to change...to live out the good things I want as opposed to bemoaning the flaws that block forward movement.

I suppose there's a fine distinction to be drawn between noting fear and noting occasions where I'm called to exercise courage. For me, there's an ease that comes with noting fear. I can rest in the truth and humility that comes with acknowledging fear. Noting an occasion that calls for courage, on the other hand, demands some sort of action. It calls for living something out...putting some "skin in the game." It's no more or less true than noting fear but it does seem more demanding.

So, what I'd say to couples going into a committed relationship and what I find myself saying to myself is, "Pay attention to who you are and do what you need to do to come to terms with that. It's a prerequisite to a successful relationship journey."

Maintenance

2011-07-24T11:47:00.000-04:00

Often, the least glamorous, most accessible experiences are the most important and life altering.. It's easy to be drawn to the exotic when a life change is desired. Vacations are a good example. Many of us need to have the experience of something completely different from our day to day lives in order to feel like we've had a genuine vacation. We are drawn to cruises and far away places. We want to be transported to a world as different from the one we left as possible. We want to get away from it all.

On the other hand, we all know that the little things count. Often they count more than anything else. Consistently paying attention to how often we touch, how often we express gratitude, how often we say what's really on our mind and how often we acknowledge the importance of those around us can have an amazingly positive effect on how well a relationship goes. In fact, relationship maintenance probably has more to do with relationship success than does the periodic "special" experience. Wonderful as those experiences can be, they rarely sustain.

So, the next time you want to improve the quality of your relationship, resist the temptation to do something "special." Instead, set out on a practice of doing a lot of little things consistently over time. Maintenance behaviors can slowly and reliably pull even the most difficult times into a better place.

Are We Compatible?

2011-03-27T11:44:00.000-04:00

Most of the research on relationship success tells us that compatibility between partners is essential. Living a long and happy life with a partner usually depends on the similarities partners share. If two people have the same definition of "clean," the same definition of "on time," and the same definition of "expensive," they are less likely to experience conflict and therefore more likely to live comfortably together. They will experience compatibility.

But what about "hard wired" differences like those that come with being male or female? Or, the "hard wired" differences that come with temperament and personality? What about the apparently natural inclination for opposites to attract? What about the desire to encounter something new and interesting--something different--that adds life and spark to the inevitable boredom that threatens to overtake long term relationships? It seems no matter how much we seek compatibility, we will inevitably find pockets of incompatibility as the relationship develops. Sometimes those pockets of incompatibility generate a gnawing disappointment. But, they can also create interest and curiosity. If allowed, points of incompatibility can be the source of substantial personal and relational growth. It's a cliche, of course, but pain and gain are, indeed, tied to each other.

Because people don't ordinarily see a therapist when they are in the throes of major compatibility, the couples I see come with a pointed and painful experience of incompatibility. Listening to people describe their discomfort with differences, it quickly becomes obvious that at an earlier point in their relationship the differences were not experienced as painful. Rather, they were often a source of interest and growth. So, what makes a thing that generated interest turn into a thing that only produces annoyance and frustration?

Three things contribute to the movement from interest to annoyance. First, there is an inevitable loss of imagination and curiosity that comes with a long term relationship. Second, the diminished space that comes with accumulated responsibilities like children and mortgages leaves less and less room for differences. And third, there seems to be a natural erosion of respect that accompanies relating over a long period of time. Disappointments and misunderstandings acquire a weight over time that makes carrying them comfortably very difficult. It's hard to maintain respect for someone you begin to see as making your life harder than it needs to be.

So, what's the best response to incompatibility? Assuming the incompatibility doesn't create a dangerous situation, the answer seems fairly straightforward. Begin by cultivating imagination and curiosity. Ask yourself, "What makes him do that?" or "How does doing what he does work for him?" or "How does my response to her make her more or less likely to continue doing the thing I find annoying?" Second, look for ways to create constructive emotional space--create room for differences. One way this can be done is to remind yourself that he/she is not doing something to you. For example, my partner's cleaning something after I've already cleaned it is not something she is doing to me. Rather, it's something she's doing for herself. Finally, act in ways that deserves respect and notice the ways your partner deserves respect.

Of course, all of this is easier said than done. Most of us get to a place where all we want is someone more like us than not. However, remembering that growth only comes with risk and difficulty can shed a kinder light on incompatibility.

Self Respect

2011-03-06T09:23:00.000-05:00

Therapy is supposed to be an occasion for self-exploration. It's supposed to offer an environment that allows people to safely go into uncharted waters to discover aspects of themselves they would otherwise find inaccessible. It's supposed to foster the kind of growth that deepens and enriches life. Along the way, it is also supposed to resolve "issues" that have often lingered for a lifetime. So, it's not just about discovery...it's also about putting things to rest.

I love doing that kind of therapy. It gives me a chance to be a travel companion on a fascinating, and occasionally treacherous trip. I get to point out things that might go unnoticed. I get to encourage and support. It's wonderful!

But, that's not what many people begin therapy with. Most people don't begin therapy eager to explore, with a desire to expand their internal horizons. Most simply want a problem solved. Most come in exhausted and exasperated looking for answers. They want to know if they have done enough to save the marriage. They want to know if their desire to end things is justifiable. They want to know if an additional effort they have in mind makes sense. They want someone they can trust--someone with knowledge and experience--to tell them whether or not they are doing the right thing.

In traditional therapy these pointed questions are sidestepped with responses like, "Well, what do you think is the best course of action?" The goal of sidestepping is to encourage self-sufficiency and confidence. It's an admirable goal and one to which I subscribe most of the time. Occasionally, however, people long for an objective standard...something to orient them as they move through the dense fog decision-making. To dismiss that need is a bit like asking someone to provide the dimensions of a room without allowing access to a tape measure. There's a lot of comfort in having something "objective" guiding us. If you're lost in the woods, the objectivity of a compass can prevent useless wandering, sometimes saving a life.

When we look for an objective standard to guide us, we naturally look outside ourselves. We turn our attention to experts, generally accepted philosophies or religious teachings. We assume that what's out there is more objective than what's "in here." Despite that natural, common sense inclination, I'm not sure looking outside ourselves guarantees the kind of objective information we really need. Since there's so much "objective" data out there competing for our attention, looking outside ourselves for direction may only contribute to our confusion.

So where do we find the perfect compass? I believe that ultimately it's within us. But, even looking within can be confusing if we don't know what we're looking for or where to look. I believe the compass we need has everything to do with self-respect. Lately, it's seemed pretty clear that developing a keen sense of self-respect can go a long way toward providing data as close to objective as we can get. If we pay close attention to our experience of self-respect it can take us to greater depths of compassion. It can also take us to places we may not want to go. I've worked with more than one person who clung to a destructive relationship because they desperately wanted to make it work. Careful attention to self-respect often makes it clear what needs to be done despite the difficulty of doing it. Careful attention to self-respect can put us in touch with the deepest truth of our lives and in so doing, offer direction that has integrity.

If we spent as much time honing our internal experience of self-respect as we do searching for good advice out there, we would likely make better decisions, avoid a lot of unnecessary pain and live our lives with more integrity.

Imagine Desire...

2011-01-22T22:51:00.000-05:00

There are two domains of relationship success...stability and satisfaction. Historically, we have tended to think of stability as the primary indicator of success. The longer a couple stays together the more successful they were thought to be. The labels we use for milestone anniversaries are a good indication of this. If you manage to make it to twenty-five years, it's a silver anniversary. If you make it all the way to fifty years, it's golden. The past few generations have seen the definition of success shift away from stability and toward satisfaction. These days we are not likely to consider a long lasting but fundamentally unhappy relationship successful. Rather, we think of a successful relationship as one that is primarily characterized by satisfaction. What this means is that if a relationship is no longer satisfying it's difficult to justify sustaining it.

For most of us, a key component of relationship satisfaction is desire...the experience of being desired and of desiring...the experience of being wanted and of wanting. The kind of desire I'm referring to here is not limited to the sexual arena. It includes companionship, conversation and simple physical presence. New relationships usually come with desire built in. It's the basic feature that draws us to someone and is usually in full supply when we're getting to know someone. The natural history of relationships suggests that as they progress desire becomes less and less pointed...less and less easily accessed. If familiarity doesn't breed contempt, it certainly breeds boredom.

This brings us to the interesting spot many in long term relationships experience. It's what I think of as the "meta-desire" experience. It goes like this--"I don't want to (fill in the blank with things like, have sex, spend time just being with you, have a deep conversation, and so forth) but I want to want to." It's the desire to experience desire. It's the sense of not feeling much but wanting to feel something deeply.

Too often couples stop at the point of noticing that they no longer feel desire for each other. They get discouraged, feel lonely and sometimes seek desire elsewhere. They don't take the next step and notice that they want to want to be connected intimately and meaningfully. For the most part, this inability to see the "meta-desire" seems to be a failure of imagination. Most couples know how to have desire. After all, it was a part of their relationship in the beginning. What they've lost is the imagination necessary to refresh their experience of each other.

A well nurtured imagination can go a long way toward keeping a relationship satisfying and ultimately, stable.

I'm Thirsty...No, You're Not...

2011-01-10T11:25:00.000-05:00

Memory being what it is, one can never be sure about these things but, I recall a moment in my childhood when the validity of my personal experience was called into question. It wasn't a malicious moment. It wasn't intended to make me feel crazy or to call into question the ground of my being. It wasn't supposed to be an existential moment. Yet, it was and did all those things.

So, here's the memory... I'm with my family--parents and sister--and we are on a road trip. I recall leaning over the seat to get within easy earshot of my parents. Those were the days before seat belts and certainly before car seats. What I said was, "I'm thirsty." My recollection is that my father replied by saying, "No you're not." I can still feel the onset of deep confusion. I remember assessing my senses and clearly experiencing thirst. Yet, my father, whom I respected, said I wasn't thirsty. What to do? There I was, dangling between holding on to my own experience and accepting his definition of my world. I'm not real sure what I did aside from sitting down and feeling perplexed. Because my father is a man of few words, he kept his response brief. In retrospect, I'm sure what he meant to say was something like, "You may be thirsty now but we just stopped to get something to drink so we are not going to stop again soon. You will just have to deal with your thirst." That would have told the truth without calling into question my experience. It would have forced me to deal with the reality of the situation without undermining my sense of self.

Thankfully, this kind of exchange was not common in my family. Consequently, it didn't leave a lasting scare. Maybe it had such an impact because it was rare. But, I have worked with couples where this way of relating is common if not normal. I recently listened to a woman recall an experience in childbirth where she told her husband, who was standing beside her, that she was in a lot of pain. He apparently looked at a monitor in the room, concluded she was fine and responded to her by saying, "No, you're not." According to her, this exchange was a poignant example of an all too common way of relating. She described having spent a couple of decades dangling between holding on to her experience and accepting her husband's definition of her world. At the moment she told the story, with her husband sitting next to her on the couch, she opted for her own experience and told him she wanted a divorce.

What's the point of all this? The point is that in order to relate meaningfully we have to join our partner--husband, wife, friend, whomever--where they are. We don't have to agree with them. We don't have to cave to whatever requests or demands arise from their experience. But, we do have to validate their experience and thereby join them in order to have a starting place for conversation. Doing that requires the ability to accommodate the reality that two people can have very different ways of experiencing the same event. It requires the ability to tolerate, if not enjoy, separateness--two whole selves interacting in the same space and time. It requires the ability to respect "otherness."

It always astonishes me how difficult this little exercise is for couples. There seems to be a natural inclination to compete for whose reality--whose experience of reality--gets to prevail. The competition almost always threatens to destroy the relationship. Paradoxically, it is the willingness to allow a place for separate and different experiences that creates and strengthens relationships.

Original Sin

2010-12-25T11:51:00.001-05:00

In 1973 the famous psychiatrist, Karl Menninger, wrote Whatever Became of Sin. In it he grappled with psychiatry's inclination to understand human behavior in medical terms instead of moral terms. There was something of a lament in his description of this shift. Some part of him seemed to wonder about the deeper, spiritual aspects and implications of human behavior. Although the movement away from a moral understanding of human nature to a more medical understanding has progressed exponentially in the decades since he wrote the book, the question remains. It remains in a larger form than simply wondering if a given act is good or bad. It's more than a judicial question. It's a question that tries to get at human nature.

Wondering about sin and sanity seems fairly straightforward when we are confronted by dramatic behavior like acts of terrorism, human trafficking or infanticide. It's even pretty clear when we're confronted by mundane acts like shoplifting and extramarital sex. It's much more difficult, however, when we bring the question to the everyday intricacies of our close relationships. We, correctly, think of our close relationships as sources of support, love and growth. They are certainly that. They are also the places where original sin plays itself out most perniciously.

Original sin isn't about an act. It's about a bent. It's about persistent inclinations. It's about natural, largely unconscious movements toward self-preservation that eventuate in relationship harm. It's about a recurrent block to the flow of grace and love. It's less about being innately bad than about being innately stuck.

A current, though controversial, and widely used framework that speaks to the question of original sin is the Enneagram. It takes the Seven Cardinal Sins, adds two, fear and deceit, to come up with nine universal blocks to the experience of grace and love. It's an interesting system, worth taking a look at. I raise it only to point out that the notion of something deep, abiding and spiritual being at the root of human nature and relationship difficulties is alive and well outside traditional religious institutions.

My interest in original sin is maintained by the regularity with which couples say they want to get over something but find themselves utterly unable. They come to therapy describing patterns of behavior and response that frequently go back to the beginning of the relationship. They want, more than anything, to shed the thing that blocks them from freely experiencing the good things they have for each other. Despite their best efforts and intentions, the block persists and under stress often gets stronger. I've come to believe that at the core of this stuck place resides some version of original sin or, if you prefer, original block. When everything else is stripped away, what's left is something very primitive like, fear, pride, gluttony or lust.

In the end, the "sin" or the "stuckness" isn't something that can be gotten over. You don't get over original sin. You learn to live with it. By that I mean, you learn to see the signs of its active presence. You learn to work with it without being drawn into it. You learn to acknowledge its presence and power rather than deny its impact. You learn that it's the place where forgiveness is most necessary and effective. Most of all, you learn that it's universal...that neither you nor your partner is free of it. You learn that connection can come in spite of it and on rare and wonderful occasions because of it. It's on those occasions that we can experience the miracle of redemption.

Isn't This Interesting...?

2010-12-16T21:50:00.010-05:00

My typical day is spent listening to couples describe their difficulties. Sometimes they don't know where to start and sometimes they launch into a rapid-fire, detailed account of wrongs done and slights endured. Often, the descriptions are laid out on a blanket of anger or sadness and almost always with disappointment and fear. The desire to unburden themselves of months or years of pain is palpable. Once it's all out, relief sometimes comes like a balm. What we are left with is usually the scene of substantial wreckage and a simple question, "Well, now what?"

The "now what?" question hangs there holding all the anticipation of an expectant parent moments before delivery. Of course, the reality of the situation is that there is no easy resolution to the difficulties laid out. It's unlikely either partner is going to have a sudden attack of unconditional love and forgiveness. The road ahead will be winding, hilly and littered with potholes.

It's at this point that I often succumb to the temptation to ask what probably seems like a really stupid question. I ask, "Is any of this interesting to you? Or, is all this just a huge pain in the neck?" Naturally, most respond by telling me how awful it is and wonder out loud how it could ever be interesting. It strikes me, however, that the ability to find one's circumstances interesting is a first step toward experiencing something different. If I look at the wreck my life is currently and respond to it with exasperation, I've doubled my burden and added nothing to its resolution. On the other hand, if I'm able to find my circumstance interesting, I've at least stepped back from it enough to have added perspective and I've laid some groundwork for a shift in behavior and attitude.

It all reminds me of times I've tried to fix something like a broken appliance or one of my son's toys. If I go into that enterprise frustrated or annoyed, I take the stance that this is just a colossal pain the the neck. What usually happens next is that I wind up breaking the thing, essentially making it irreparable. But, if I look at the project and find a way to make it interesting, patience grows and I'm able to notice details that my frustration would otherwise mask.

I'm not sure there's anything more interesting than the complexities of a relationship. Stepping back from frustration and noticing the interesting features of a life circumstance can go a long way toward smoothing the road to reconciliation.

Power

2010-12-11T18:49:00.003-05:00

There are few experiences more gratifying than the experience of power. I still hold dear a Christmas more than twenty-five years ago when I managed to buy my daughter the perfect present. She had asked for a doll and I found the one that would completely fulfill her desires. The smile on her face and the way she played with it spoke to my power as a parent. I imagined her looking at me and saying, "You have the power to make me happy!" Even now, recalling that experience, the feelings of her youth and vulnerability contrasted by my strength and power rush in.

Similarly, when my son was two he and I and our over-sized Boxer were standing on the banks of the rather large creek that runs through our backyard. We were marveling at the water when the dog turned and knocked him into the creek. In a split second, seeing him lying in two feet of water looking up at me, astonished and frightened, I reached down and pulled him up. Yes, I was scared. But, more than that, I felt powerful. I could and had saved him. He was weak and vulnerable. I was strong and powerful.

Feeling that kind of power--owning it--creates the sense of competence we want to feel.

Of course, all that is well and good when it comes to buying the perfect gift or saving someone from drowning. But, what happens when the power we possess is used to inflict pain? I'm not referring to abusive situations. I'm referring to legitimately exercising power that will cause pain. Much of our legal system is rooted in this dynamic. You commit the crime. The system has the power to make you do the time. In intimate relationships this can come in the form of "the silent treatment." You have done something bad to me and because our relationship is based in love and a degree of dependence, I have the power to punish you by not talking to you. The truth is, it might be completely legitimate for me to do that for a reasonable amount of time.

So, it's not the exercise of power that is a problem. If there is a problem, it resides in the attitude we have as we exercise power. Power held and exercised without humility is most likely destructive. If I'm humble I will recognize that buying the perfect gift is more likely the exception than the rule. As a result the sting of disappointment when I don't have the power to get the perfect gift won't be quite as sharp. If I'm humble, I'll recognize that saving my son from drowning was great but being by the water with him at that age and under those circumstances was probably a dumb thing to do. As a result I'll be more cautious. If I'm humble, the punishment I give my spouse for hurting me will give way to forgiveness and mercy without at lot of fanfare. As a result our relationship will likely mend quickly.

In the long run, there are few things more compelling than power held with humility.

Merging and Separating

2010-12-09T18:17:00.004-05:00

Speaking to his girlfriend, Annie Hall, Alvie Singer says, "A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark."

Annie Hall (1977) Woody Allen

The notion that relationships require movement is familiar to anyone who has been in one for more than a few months. Naively, many of us believe the movement will be essentially linear and in a positive direction. Oh sure, we say, there will be difficult times, disagreements and disappointments. But, we expect that over the long haul we will be in a better place when all is said and done than we were when we began. Often this is pretty much what happens in one of the several dimensions that make up an intimate relationship.

In another dimension there is also constant movement but it isn't linear. It's circular. In this dimension, we move in a repeating pattern of merging and separating, merging and separating--over and over again. Imagine two circles, side by side, with one moving in a clockwise direction and the other in a counter-clockwise direction. In a healthy relationship this is the pattern of movement that prevails. We connect, enjoying our time together and move apart enjoying our separateness. For example, we have a nice evening together but when it's over we eventually fall asleep and move into our individual worlds. When we wake we may cuddle and discuss the day ahead before getting out of bed. But, eventually we go to work and move into our individual interests and obligations. This is the pattern--merging and separating.

Alvie Singer's "dead shark" can show up in a couple of places. The most obvious is when a couple needs or demands constant connection--constant merging. It doesn't take long for this to produce an environment in which there is so little fresh air that the inhabitants eventually asphyxiate. Jealousy and the fear of loss are usually behind the inability to move toward appropriate separation. In much the same way, being afraid to give up separateness creates the kind immobility that eventually eliminates the fresh and new experiences necessary for life.

Good and fulfilling connection comes when we are moving toward or away from the experience of separateness. Likewise, healthy separateness usually comes in anticipation of or after a clear sense of connection. The constant merging and separating movement keeps the "shark" alive and well.

Intimate or Close?

2010-12-02T06:54:00.003-05:00

Cultivating an intimate relationship is a "contact sport." Unlike polite conversation and small talk, intimate conversation requires contact, encounter and engagement. It requires a respectful and unflinching exchange of personal data. To be in a relationship that is deliberately intimate is to be in a relationship that seeks connection whether comforting or painful. For someone seeking genuine intimacy, closeness often fails to satisfy. Closeness is warm and congenial. It doesn't have the grit and intensity that characterizes an intimate exchange. Finding closeness when you are looking for intimacy is like being hungry for a real milkshake in a town that only has a Dairy Queen.

Intimacy is about knowing and being known. It requires the courage to know and be known no matter what might come up.

A Spiritual Problem

2010-11-16T22:20:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the likes of Dr. Phil and shows such as In Treatment, we live in a "therapy wise" culture. Any stigma associated with seeing a therapist is long gone and the language of therapy has become common place. Most don't blink an eye at the thought of an active unconscious. And, although many are uncomfortable with the power of emotions, most recognize their importance--particularly in relationships.

Our culture has done an excellent job of teaching the value of psychological insight and behavior change and many have taken the lessons seriously. As a result, therapy frequently moves rapidly. We sift through the past, notice failed efforts to change in the present and identify potential improvement in the future with notable competence. Despite all the progress in awareness, I frequently scratch my head wondering why the anticipated life improvements so infrequently show up. Clients know what they need to do and why. They have insight. With others and often, even with a difficult partner, they can cite times when they've addressed problems quite skillfully. Yet, there they are, in my office, stuck in a persistently painful spot. It's often obvious that the problem does not lie in a lack of insight or skill.

Lately, my response to this set of circumstances is to ask, "How is this thing you're dealing with not a spiritual problem?" When I ask that question, I'm not wondering about their relationship with God or some other version of a higher power. What I am wondering about is their relationship with the larger, less tangible aspects of being in the world. I am wondering about fear and courage, pride and humility, greed and generosity...that sort of thing. For example, I can know exactly what to say, when to say it and why saying it is necessary. But, if I don't have the courage to say it, all my insight and skill is useless. I can know the "how," "when" and "why" of forgiving someone but if I don't have the humility necessary for authenticity, all the rest is just so much empty effort.

It seems pretty clear to me that no amount of insight, skill or, for that matter, medication will get us to our destination unless all of that is accompanied by a spirit of something larger--bigger than ourselves--something like courage, humility, generosity, patience, love, hope or any of the other virtues.

Time and the Art of Living

2010-11-15T19:54:00.001-05:00

A very good friend recently suggested I pick up a copy of Robert Grudin's book, Time and the Art of Living. I've found myself taking it with me whenever I think I'll have a few minutes to wait for whatever comes next. Reading it makes the wait a productive pleasure.

What follows is one of my favorite passages from his comments on psychological time.

Chess, which exists predominantly in two dimensions, is one of the world's most difficult games. Three-dimensional chess is an invitation to insanity. But human relationships, even of the simplest order, are like a kind of four-dimensional chess, a game whose pieces and positions change subtly and inexorably between moves, whose players stare dumbly while their powerful positions deteriorate into hopeless predicaments and while improbable combinations suddenly become inevitable. To make matters worse, some games are open to any number of players, and all sides are expected to win.

A Complicated Drama

2010-11-08T21:12:00.002-05:00

Drama is a natural characteristic of relationships. Whether romantic or tragic, the experience of drama is ever-present. When you hear an exhausted friend say, "I just can't take the drama anymore," what they are really saying is they can't take the particular kind of drama they're experiencing. That same person may spend much time and money seeking the experience of romantic drama.

Using the Drama Triangle, we can understand and even embrace the scenes we play out every day. The Drama Triangle suggests that in all interactions, participants play one of three roles, the persecutor, the rescuer or the victim. Every persecutor needs a victim. Likewise, every victim needs a persecutor and every rescuer needs a persecutor and a victim. You get the drift. Each role requires the other two. Otherwise, the whole thing is unsustainable and the interaction falls apart pretty quickly. None of this is a problem as long as everyone has equal access to all three roles. It becomes a problem when the roles are rigidly assigned or taken on. For example, I'm fine with my son identifying me as his persecutor when I refuse permission for yet another sleepover with his friends. For the moment, he's the victim and I, the persecutor, have "ruined his life"--a dramatic moment most parents have experienced. A problem arises if he refuses to give up the victim role and/or demands that I remain the persecutor. In healthy relationships these roles are fluidly picked up and dropped as we move through problems to resolutions.

A particularly interesting thing happens when betrayal, a deeply dramatic event, is introduced into a couple's relationship. It doesn't have to be a romantic/sexual betrayal. It can be something much more common. For example, in an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment he shares with her a particularly embarrassing experience from his childhood. Some weeks later, at a dinner party, the conversation drifts to childhood experiences and, joining in the fun, she tells his story. Believing he had shared something meant to be kept private, he feels betrayed and vows to himself he'll never allow himself to be that vulnerable with her again. She has, probably unknowingly, become the persecutor and he, the surprised and dismayed victim.

Frequently, the victim looks for rescue from someone outside the relationship--a friend, a relative or a therapist. In my example, he might confide to a friend that his wife is completely clueless and not someone he can really talk to. But, if this relationship rift is to be mended he will have to look to her for rescue and she will have to embrace the contradictory roles of persecutor and rescuer. This, of course, is where it gets complicated.

Most people don't want to see themselves as persecutors. Resisting the label, they suggest their behavior was borne of ignorance or misunderstanding rather than intention. Failure to acknowledge the role taken typically leads to further conflict and, perhaps, even estrangement. The persecutor has to be willing to own up to what he/she has done and recognize that a shift to rescuing is possible. Like the angry parent who reprimands an errant child in one moment then comforts the child in the next, it's possible to navigate the complexity of reconciliation successfully if we allow ourselves and others fluid movement from one role to the other.

It's an interesting and complicated truth that in intimate relationships, most of us want our persecutors to rescue us. We want those who have hurt us to recognize what they have done and then to comfort us as we work to heal from the wounds they have inflicted.

Something Genuinely New

2010-10-30T16:44:00.003-04:00

Whether from a garden variety of boredom or from the aftermath of trauma, most couples eventually get to the place where they say, tacitly or overtly, that something different needs to happen in the relationship. What they are usually looking for is something new, something alive...a change from the old, familiar pattern of relating. Ordinarily, it is easy to change the intensity and/or duration of an already patterned behavior. For example, if a couple has a habit of spending Friday evenings together, it doesn't take much to add going out to that behavior. Or, if a couple typically makes love four times a month it isn't very difficult to add or subtract one occasion.

Difficulty arises when a couple wants to change the fundamental quality of their relating-- when one or the other says, "I want us to be with each other differently. I don't just want us to talk about something difficult. I want us to talk about something difficult in a way that is unlike previous conversations. I want a new kind of conversation." This usually reflects a desire to engage at a deeper level.

The difficulty of this desire is compounded by the fact that if something is genuinely new it is also unfamiliar. So, the desire for something genuinely new amounts to one or the other asking for something neither knows how to do. A bind has effectively been created. At its most benign level this will be frustrating. Occasionally, the bind creates desperation. When the need for something new and alive is joined by sufficient frustration, the situation can become so discouraging it threatens the relationship's survival.

Resolving this bind requires engaging a new pattern, even a new paradigm. Couples have to be willing to proceed in a clumsy, awkward and confusing way. Doing something genuinely new can never be done well. For example, most of us have developed a post-shower drying off technique that we repeat daily and unconsciously. The next time you shower, try starting at at different place on your body--a new place--and see how it goes. In all likelihood the experience will be uncomfortable, confusing and frustrating.

Interestingly, introducing a genuinely new way of relating requires couples to tolerate failure. Maybe that's way so few couples are able to experience something new once their relationship his developed some momentum. Confusion, if not failure, is a prerequisite to discovering something new. Couples,therefore, have to be willing to fail repeatedly. Ask any research scientist. They will tell you that good things come from confusion, failure, persistence and hope.

Taking It Personally

2010-10-29T08:26:00.000-04:00

So much of the pain we experience in relationships could be diminished, even avoided, if we didn't take things personally. Partners routinely interrupt each other with comments like, "What did you mean by that?" Or, "I can't believe you'd actually think such a thing about me!" We make comments like these when we get snagged by the the belief that our partner is doing something to us. In the language of traditional psychology, we become defensive. We feel attacked and instinctively defend ourselves from blows that are often more imagined than real.

The taking-it-personally phenomenon reminds me of a fight my wife and I had a number of years ago. At one point she was describing, in very uncomfortable detail, all the ways I had failed her--all the ways she was disappointed in me. At the time, I did what came natural. I began to defend myself. After a few sentences of energetic defensiveness, she stopped me asking, "Why is it that every time we have this discussion it always has to be about you?" The question took all the wind out of my sails. I thought, "You mean this isn't about me? You mean I don't have to take all you've said personally? You mean you'd just like me to be able to hear and understand your disappointment?"

Although I learned a lot in that exchange, the inclination to take things personally, to be reactive and to defend one's self is incredibly powerful. It takes a lot of practice and a deep desire to be present with a partner before hearing things we'd rather not hear can be done genuinely and compassionately.

Just imagine how wonderful it would feel to be able to tell your partner about your disappointment in him/her without feeling like you needed to be ready to duck once the words passed our lips. In all likelihood it would make you feel closer and, paradoxically, a lot less disappointed.

Can't

2010-10-24T20:06:00.003-04:00

"I can't keep doing this."

"I can't continue."

"I can't change him/her."

Hardly a day goes by without hearing one of my clients say they can't keep doing what they are doing. Yet, they continue for weeks, months and sometimes years doing the thing they say they can't do. When I hear someone say they can't continue, my immediate internal response is often, "Well, of course you can continue. You've been doing this for a very long time without much let-up. Why should we think you can't do it now?" I'm inclined to think they aren't taking what they've said seriously.

Conventional wisdom suggests "can't" is a negative, defeating word. We are taught to think in terms of the possible and avoid thinking about the impossible. Most of us grew up with some version of the children's book, "The Little Engine That Could." As a result, there's something woven into our psyche that tells us we can do anything we put our minds to--all we have to do is think positively. Like the little engine that could we join the mantra, "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can." The net result is an abiding belief that there really are no limits to what is possible.

It strikes me that, although there may be a way anything is possible, life comes with some indisputable limits. Lately, I've been asking people to listen carefully to what they are saying when they use the word, "can't." I ask them to listen and try taking what they are saying seriously. I suggest this because "can't" has the potential for being a powerful, liberating and even positive word. If I genuinely can't do something there is no longer any struggle. Trying no longer has a point. Things become quite peaceful. "Can't" brings with it the experience of letting go. It closes a door thoroughly and completely. And, by closing that door it offers the opportunity for another door to open--thoroughly and completely. "Can't," if taken seriously, eliminates ambiguity and creates a space for clarity.

Sometimes I think we avoid taking "can't" seriously because we're afraid of the clarity it brings. We don't have the faith necessary to believe the door that will open thoroughly, completely and unambiguously is exactly the one that wants to open.

Intensity

2010-10-23T08:20:00.002-04:00

Few fires burn hotter than the one kindled by lovers. For lovers whose history includes the inevitable wounds brought on by misunderstanding, poor judgment, and inattention, the fire of passion is a mixed experience. The compelling desire to connect can be matched by the equally compelling need for self-protection. Caught up in this intense push-pull, couples are torn by opposing needs and desires. It's as if they were two burn victims trying to make love. Their hearts draw them to each other but the experience of pain when touched brings an immediate withdrawing response.

Both sides of this dilemma deserve all the attention they can get. Any attempt to deny the validity of either the desire or the pain will only result in a skewed picture of the whole. Some say arriving at this this dilemma is precisely the point of a committed relationship--that a committed relationship is the only thing that offers the crucible necessary to resolve the paradox of desire and pain.

Few experiences test the strength of a relationship crucible like the intensity of desire and pain brought together. Of course, there is no one-size-fits-all solution. It does, however, appear that successful resolution is almost always characterized by courage, patience, compassion and respect.

Lying

2010-10-21T22:03:00.001-04:00

Lying is such a common human experience. We say we value honesty. We say it's essential to a healthy relationship. But, we lie to each other and ourselves with amazing regularity. In its most benign form, we lie to protect "good" secrets--secrets like what's in the package under the Christmas tree--secrets like, "You really don't look all that great this evening."

Some say that if you can't lie, you can't leave home--that children lying to parents is a necessary step in their movement away from home. For example, when your father knocks on your bedroom door asking, "What's all the commotion in there?" What do you say? Most likely, you say, "Nothing!" You don't say, "Well, Dad, truth be told, I'm dancing naked in front of my mirror." The fact is that it's none of his business what's going on as long as it's legal and moral. So, we spare ourselves and our parents the unpleasantness of saying, "It's none of your business what's going on in here." Instead we say, "Nothing." And both we and our parents know it's a lie. In a healthy family there's a place for this kind of "dishonesty." It's recognized as an appropriate way to gain independence. Everybody accepts it for what it is and no one is offended.

In its destructive form, lying creates a gulf between two people that quickly widens. Like a wildfire, it can move from "You're lying" to "You're a liar" with remarkable speed. Once you've arrived at you're-a-liar, conversation is all but useless. How can you have a useful, reliable conversation with a liar? You can't. It isn't possible. Everything is suspect when you're dealing with a liar.

Yet, we often find ourselves bound to people we've labeled "liars." The option to refuse communication with our spouse, our child, our landlord, our banker is impractical if not impossible. We have to maintain a level of openness if for no other reason than basic life efficiency. So, how do we avoid chronic suspicion or worse, a creeping paranoia? How do we make sense of all this?

One way out of this dead end is to recognize that the destructive version of lying is all about self-protection. If I believe my spouse is lying, my first job is to make sure he/she has no good reason to be self-protective. I have to make sure I'm not on the attack--that I'm giving no reason for self-protection. This is, of course, a very difficult task given how offended most of us are when we've been lied to.

Most lying is the product of caution, even fear. It's probably not an exaggeration to say people who lie are frightened people. It follows, then, that if I don't want my partner to lie to me, I have to make sure he/she feels safe enough to tell the truth. I have to recognize that more than dealing with a person who's lying, I'm dealing with a person who's frightened. It's the fear that deserves my attention, not the dishonesty.

When all is said and done, it's a choice between using the language of morality or the language of emotion. If my goal is to judge, I'll chose the language of morality. If my goal is to connect, I'll choose the language of emotion.

Stance

2010-10-12T11:59:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I think the thing that really changes in people's lives is their stance. It's not that they no longer get angry or frightened when undesired and unexpected things happen. It's not that they no longer voice their displeasure. It's not that they are able to overlook or even accept their partner's irritating habits. It's that their response to all these things comes from a different place than it once did. A response that comes from fear, for example, is very different from the response that comes for a grounded awareness that something is simply not right. It isn't necessarily different in the words that are used. It's different in the energy that comes with the expressed response.

I suppose this could be just another way of saying, "It's not what you say. It's how you say it." But, the fact is that no matter how you rearrange words in an effort to change how you say something, if you don't change the energy behind them nothing is really different.

What you say should come from the heart. But, it matters whether the heart is cold and hard or warm and compassionate. In both cases the source is the same but the stance is very different.

Conditional Love

2010-10-05T21:42:00.001-04:00

Most of us have a very difficult time pulling off unconditional love. Those rare and wonderful moments when we succeed ought to be noted and celebrated in a humble and quiet way. So, what about all the other moments when we just can't rise to the level we'd like? For those all too normal moments we have three guideposts: Reciprocity, Congruence of Perception and Equivalence.

Reciprocity simply suggests that when we get something we expect something in return. Most of us think of this as basic manners. If we are given a gift or a compliment we respond with a "thank you." Many of us engage in an elaborate "reciprocity" dance around holiday gift giving. Huge efforts are made to ensure an evenness of gift giving and receiving. All of this is to maintain relationship balance--to reduce guilt and resentment. It's all about maintaining reciprocity.

Congruence of perception refers to the need to be seen as we see ourselves. So, if I see you the way you see yourself and if you see me the way I see myself, we will get along famously. If, however, if I fail to see you the way you see yourself, we are in for trouble. None of us feels comfortable when others' perception of us differs significantly from our self-perception.

Finally, equivalence refers to the need for both parties in a relationship to assign equal value to their contributions to the relationship. For example, if he makes $100,000 a year and she changes the diapers it's vital that they value those two contributions equally. If, however, she begins to believe that her diaper changing is worth more than $100,000 a year trouble is around the corner.

Typically, we spend most of our relationship time in the world of unconscious score keeping. That world offers it's own risks and opportunities. The more we are able to define what goes on in that world the more likely we are to find opportunities.

Prepositions

2010-10-01T19:20:00.000-04:00

Since I graduated from college with a major in English, it should come as no surprise that words are of particular importance to me. Lately, I've spent a good bit of time on prepositions. Prepositions are words that link nouns and pronouns to other parts of a sentence. It's the linking quality of prepositions that make them interesting--especially in the world of relationships. Take the sentence, "I'm doing this for you." "For" is the preposition. Or, "I'd like to go for a walk with you." "With" is the preposition.

A lot of relationship pain could be avoided by paying closer attention to how we say and hear prepositions. For example, if my partner is yelling, it matters whether I think she's yell at me or to me. In the sexual arena, how we use prepositions in our thoughts can be critical. Feel the difference between the following sentences.

He/She is doing this for me.

He/She is doing this to me.

He/She is doing this with me.

The "favor" of the interaction is largely determined by the preposition we use. In my experience with couples I've noticed that the internal conversation we have about what is going on in the external world is heavily influenced by prepositions. For example, if my partner forgets an important date I can choose to think he/she did that to me or I can choose to think he/she simply lost track of things. If I think the forgetting was something done to me I will take it personally and likely feel hurt. If I recognize that my partner does things I don't like but doesn't do those things to me, resolving the issue will come much more easily.

Non-Zero-Sum

2010-09-24T08:06:00.002-04:00

So, what does applied mathematics have to say about healthy, intimate relationships? Well, it seems to have a lot to say. One of the more interesting aspects of game theory, a branch of applied mathematics, is the distinction between zero-sum and non-zero-sum games. A good example is tennis. In singles tennis, if one player gains points the other does not--a zero-sum phenomenon. In doubles tennis, if one side gains points the other doesn't but the two players on one side do not experience the same thing. Their relationship is a non-zero-sum relationship. If one does well the other benefits and vice-versa. Their goal is to work together and against the other team. Another example can be found in the difference between money and love. If I have ten dollars and give you five, I have five left and you have an additional five--a zero-sum situation. On the other hand, if I have ten units of love and unconditionally give you five, I may well feel like I have more love because I gave you some--a non-zero-sum situation.

When couples are getting along well, their relationship is often characterized by non-zero-sum interaction. The more it is characterized that way the better they get along and the better they get along the more it will be characterized that way. However, when couples are not getting along the relationship can quickly devolve into a zero-sum situation. This is what people are referring to when they accuse their partner of "keeping score." The more committed I am to a zero-sum stance the more fear and anger I will generate in myself and my partner. Of course, the way out of this spiral is to unilaterally adopt a non-zero-sum stance.

Adopting a non-zero-sum stance will not be easy in a zero-sum circumstance. In fact, it will be painful and feel defeating in the short run. This is one of those places where doing the good and right thing may well feel unnatural. This is also one of those places where it is better to ask, "What does the relationship need?" than to ask, "What do I need?"

Private and Secret

2010-08-15T20:18:00.002-04:00

Among the many concepts couples do well to agree on are two--private and secret. It's pretty much axiomatic that relationships suffer tremendously when partners keep secrets from each other. Secrets engender anxiety and mistrust. They introduce a corrosive element that often results in the death of the relationship--if not literally then at least emotionally. Many relationship experts contend that the corrosive quality of secrets can even be transmitted through several generations with children unconsciously carrying the weight of secrets their parents have kept.

By the same token, it is also axiomatic that everyone deserves their privacy. Of course, people have varying needs for privacy. One person may have very little need and, as a result, is not offended when his/her partner goes into a wallet or purse without permission looking for lunch money for their child. Another, however, might well hold a wallet or purse as private territory to be entered only with permission. It's not that they are hiding anything. It's just that their privacy needs to be acknowledged and not breached without permission.

Keeping secrets and invading privacy have the potential to seriously damage a relationship. Both diminish the sense of safety necessary for intimacy to flourish. When either of these issues comes up, it's important to recognize the complexity of the situation, tread carefully and respond respectfully. These can be volatile but productive occasions.

The Death of Me

2010-08-13T20:59:00.002-04:00

Having been steeped in existentially oriented therapy, I tend to think much of what how we live our lives is determined by an awareness of death. Much of our energy is spent fighting for recognition and against annihilation. So, for example, I can't allow myself to lose the argument I'm having with my wife because to allow it would be to symbolically accept my own death. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to people express their astonishment at how hard a partner fought over such a "little" issue. The fact is that in some way that "little" issue wasn't little at all and the argument was a "life and death" struggle.

I have come to believe that every couple that stays together an appreciable amount of time eventually gets to the place where they say to themselves, "If I stay with him/her another day/week/month/year it will be the death of me." It's not uncommon for couples to think and occasionally say things like, "This is killing me." or "You're killing me." And, in a symbolic way, it's often true.

The question that should arise when we experience the "lethal" quality of our marriage is not, "How can I arm myself better so that I can survive or better yet, do him/her in?" The question should be, "What in me needs to die so that something new and better can be born?" Or, "What kind of surrender do I need to embrace in order for a better thing to come into our relationship?" The willingness to lose often precedes a meaningful gain.

It takes a lot of courage to do this kind of "unnatural" thing.

What Comes Natural

2010-08-06T18:18:00.004-04:00

There's a scene in The African Queen where Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn have the following exchange.

Charlie Allnut: A man takes a drop too much once in a while, it's only human nature.

Rose Sayer: Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.

The more I work with people the more this perspective seems legitimate. There are many things that call us to act beyond what comes naturally. These things are usually foundational in our lives and even in history. Parenting, marriage, war, genuinely helping our neighbor are a few of the life circumstances that require an ability to, at least occasionally, do things that don't come naturally.

Marriage, or a long-term intimate relationship, frequently calls us to set aside natural inclinations in favor of compassion and patience. It's easy to demand our hurts be validated. It's easy to take the opportunity to subtly exact revenge. It's easy to look outside the marriage for support and solace when needs aren't met within the marriage. It's easy to clam up and protect one's self when, out of hurt and fear, our partner lashes out. These are all "natural" responses to the common disappointments partners experience.

The hard and necessary response is often the "unnatural" response. Receiving a partner's anger with compassion, patience and even open arms is likely what will change the situation dramatically. Alas, most of us aren't grown up enough to set aside our natural response in favor of the better response. But, that's one of the basic functions of marriage--offering an opportunity to grow up.

Trying to Change Your Partner

2010-05-21T21:43:00.002-04:00

Before embarking on marriage, a common piece of advice is, "Don't try to change your partner." I've spent a lot of time puzzling over that suggestion because I've never met a couple who was able to follow the advice. Maybe the couples who are able to avoid trying to change each other never need a therapist. My hunch, however, is that I haven't met a completely accepting couple because that couple doesn't exist. Most of the couples I see have spent months if not years trying unsuccessfully to change each other. And, I can't think of one case in over 30 years where the effort was to change things in a negative direction. Everyone wants their partner to be better, not worse. They want to improve communication, expressions of affection, money management, parenting style and much more. These are all areas that deserve attention and improvement.

So, my advice to couples is, "Go ahead and do your best to change your partner for the better." It's not whether or not we try to change our partners because we inevitably will. It's all about the method. If we do it lovingly, respectfully, empathically, gently and patiently, our partner will likely experience the effort as supportive. If, on the other hand, our efforts are characterized by exasperation, annoyance, impatience, condescension and disrespect, we will likely experience resistance and rejection.

The next time you try to change your partner, notice how much love and respect are in your efforts. Chances are, if your efforts are unsuccessful it's because you've "lost that lovin' feeling."

Am I Normal?

2010-05-19T06:58:00.003-04:00

Not a week goes by without hearing questions like, “Is it normal to…?” or “Am I normal?” I suppose most of us want to know we are normal. And, if we’re pretty sure we’re normal, we want to know if our spouse, child, parent or friend is normal. We need reassurance relative to normalcy when things are unfamiliar, new and unpredictable. Getting the reassurance we need is often difficult and confusing because there are several good definitions of “normal.”

First, normal can be defined as average. So, if most of the people on my block are smoking crack cocaine and I spoke crack cocaine, then, I’m normal. Or, if most 60 year olds have arthritis and I have arthritis then I’m normal. I conform to the average life experience on my block.

Second, normal can be defined as asymptomatic…having no symptoms. As long as I am symptom free, I’m considered normal. So, although I have an undiagnosed brain tumor, if I don’t have headaches or blurred vision, I’m normal.

Third, normal can be defined as functioning optimally or, above some predetermined level of functioning. In modern psychiatry, panels of experts convene periodically to draw lines between function and dysfunction. So, if you meet the set of criteria the professionals decide are necessary then, you’re normal. If you don’t meet the criteria then, you’re not normal and need treatment.

The important thing to remember when wondering about normalcy is that there are several definitions. And, they are not always compatible with each other. So, pick a definition and check yourself out. If that doesn’t work, pick another definition. Eventually, you’ll come to a clear determination of your normalcy.

The Benefits of Not Knowing

2010-05-09T07:31:00.002-04:00

One of the most difficult spots in couple therapy occurs when both partners are convinced they know each other. They say things like, "I knew you were going to say that." Or, "I know how you'll respond if I do that." Or, "I know what she thinks about that." This stance poisons efforts to change. It locks the relationship in repeated, unproductive interactions. Conventional wisdom suggests it's important to know your partner. I'm not so sure about that. It seems to me that it's important to try to get to know your partner. It's important to always help your partner get to know you. But, to arrive at "knowing" is to arrive at a dead end. Doing new things in a relationship (a prerequisite to changing anything) doesn't make sense if I "know" how my partner will respond. So, it seems important to actively cultivate a sense of "not knowing" if improving the relationship is a goal. "Not knowing" may bring with it a degree of uncertainty and anxiety. But, it also brings with it a real opportunity for change. It creates a space within which new things are allowed to emerge.

Natural History of Conflict

2010-01-23T21:04:00.002-05:00

The conflict couples experience typically has a natural progression. Understanding this progression can help efforts to manage and reduce the conflict. Ordinarily, conflict begins with an attack on the issue. For example, a wife might say to her husband, "It really bothers me that you leave your dirty socks for me to pick up and deal with." If her husband can respond appropriately to her addressing the issue, the conflict will likely be resolved. If, however, he chooses to ignore her efforts to attack the issue, eventually she will take the next step in the progression. She will attack the person. She might say something like, "I've asked you several times to clean up your dirty socks and you won't do it. You're such a slob!" She has progressed from attacking the issue to attacking the person. Sometimes this escalation prompts a change for the better. More often, it just creates defensiveness. Over time, repeated, failed attacks on the person prompt the final step in the natural history of conflict. This is an attack on the relationship. She might say something like, "I've asked you repeatedly to clean up after yourself. But no, you're too lazy. You're just a slob. I can't live like this anymore. This relationship isn't what I signed up for." Once a couple progresses to attacking each other and then the relationship things are headed in a very bad direction. Anything beyond attacking the issue is destructive and will eventually weaken the relationship bond. Pulling back from attacking the person and the relationship can be an important step in improving a relationship.

Going Around in Circles

2010-01-21T09:25:00.002-05:00

Some years ago I noticed that almost everyone I work with for a significant amount of time eventually says something like, "I feel like I'm going in circles...not making any progress." At first I found the comment disturbing, almost embarrassing. After all, isn't it my job to make sure there's always a sense of forward movement? I spent a good bit of time struggling with the fact that it was hard to maintain a consistent forward movement. Eventually, I noticed that there's a lot of circularity in life. Seasons come and go in a circular way...it's not like once we are done with winter we never have winter again. Looking at this more carefully, it became clear that there is going around in a circle and then there is going around in a circle. The kind of going in a circle that a top does is really pointless. It doesn't get anywhere. But, the kind of going in a circle that a screw does is very different. Each time a screw goes around it is in a slightly different place. So, it has become important to remind myself and those I work with that circular movement is probably natural but that it doesn't necessarily mean we aren't getting somewhere. It's very helpful to notice the subtle ways in which this time I encounter the problem is different from the last time I encountered it. That's where the progress is located.

Becoming Faithful

2009-12-06T07:55:00.004-05:00

Around about 1983 I began writing what I'd hoped would turn into a book. At the time I found myself seeing a number of couples all of whom were clear about their Christian faith and, all of whom were dealing with infidelity. I wrote and thought and wrote and thought. The more I wrote and the more I thought the more I had to conclude that the kind of fidelity we pledge at the wedding alter is rarely, if ever, sustainable. The level of emotional commitment typically vowed at a wedding is vulnerable in many, many ways. Over time our primary emotional commitment often shifts away from our partner to our children, or to our careers, or to our favorite cause and even to our favorite sport. Of course, there is always the "traditional" experience of infidelity where our emotional commitment shifts to another person. But, whatever the case may be, maintaining our partner as our primary emotional attachment often falls by the wayside. This lapse in fidelity my be temporary lasting anywhere from a few months to a few years. Couples who have been together for many years will often look back on their time together and admit that for long periods of time they just "weren't there."

Given that a sense of meaningful fidelity is critical to marital stability and satisfaction, is there a different, more useful way of considering fidelity?

Coming Out of Hiding

2009-11-20T20:41:00.003-05:00

Shortly before my wife, Bonnie, died this fall she introduced me to a book entitled, The End of Your World: Uncensored Talk on the Nature of Enlightenment by Adyashanti. When she didn't have the energy to read anymore, I read to her. The following passage struck us both as the thing we wanted most in our relationship.

"What would it be like if we didn't avoid anything we knew to be true? What if we came out of hiding in all areas of our life? What if we completely stopped avoiding ourselves, because that literally is the awakened life?

The next day there was a meeting with a question and answer session. An older gentleman raised his hand and said something really beautiful. He said, 'I was listening to the talk last night about truthfulness, about being honest, about having a willingness to face one's self as one is and not hide in some past realization.'

'My wife and I have been on the edge of a divorce for quite some time now. When we went home after we heard the talk, we just sat down and started to tell each other the truth. We started to tell each other what was true for ourselves.'

He went on to say that it wasn't like when they used to tell each other the truth, which was more like trying to convince each other of the truth. It wasn't about one of them being right and the other being wrong. It was just telling the truth, very simply. It was confessing exactly what they had been experiencing for a long time, confessing the fact that they felt separate and distant from each other, confessing the very secrets that were causing them to feel separate and isolated. 'We actually just sat there and told each other the truth,' he said. 'I would tell the truth and then allow her to tell the truth.'

He said it wasn't that they were working anything out or trying to come to conclusions; they were simply coming out of hiding. He finished by saying that it was the most extraordinary evening of his entire life: just that evening of truth telling. Not asserting truth and not denying truth--just simply telling it in a very sincere way, coming completely out of hiding."

The Truth and the Whole Truth

2009-11-17T19:45:00.002-05:00

Most couples cite honesty and trust as essential to the stability of their relationship. When a couple experiences a crisis, especially a crisis that threatens their ability to trust each other, the truth often acquires a particular importance. This kind of crisis often injects a huge dose of fear into the relationship. And, many people correctly believe that the primary antidote to fear is the truth. People will say things like, "If I just know what's really going on, I can deal with it." Or, "If he would just tell me the truth I think we would work this out."

In the rush to manage fear, couples quickly latch on to specific truths. For example, "I looked at your cell phone and you called him three times yesterday." Or, "You haven't wanted to make love for the last several months. Something must be very wrong." While these events are certainly true, they represent only a truth. The crisis is made substantially worst when the truth that's been discovered gets translated into the whole truth.

Translating a truth into the whole truth is the shift from an act to an identity. So, Bill says, "I looked at your cell phone and I could see that you called him three times yesterday." If he follows that truth with, "You are a cheater!" he has taken a truth and turned it into the whole truth. The question is, does doing something automatically determine who you are? Perhaps, but not necessarily. When a truth is translated into the whole truth, meaningful conversation becomes almost impossible for most couples.

Consider this. Although it may be very difficult, it is possible to to have a productive, meaningful conversation with someone who has cheated or lied. It is, however, all but impossible to have a meaningful conversation with a liar or a cheater. By labeling a partner in this way, by assuming we have found the whole truth about him/her, we practically eliminate the possibility of meaningful problem solving.

Of Weddings and Marriage

2009-07-20T10:40:00.006-04:00

The question, "Are you married?" comes up often and easily. When we fill out a form at the doctor's office, there it is. When we meet someone new, there it is. It seems like such a simple, obvious question. But, is it really that simple?

When people ask, "How long have you been married?" or "When did you get married?" our thought goes immediately to our wedding date. So, we calculate the length of marriage from the date of the wedding to the present. It seems so straightforward--so obvious.

But, give it a bit more thought. Does a wedding create a marriage? Legally, it certainly does. There's the license to prove it. But does it create a marriage in any other, deeper way. I don't think so. A wedding does one of two things. Either it celebrates the fact that a marriage between two people who are committed to each other has already taken place or it signals the intention to become married at some point in the future. Marriage is far too big to be contained in a twenty minute ceremony. Because marriage is so broad and deep, a wedding can only point to it. It can not contain it.

Weddings don't make marriages and divorces don't end them. Marriage is far too complex to be started (or ended) by something as simple as a wedding or divorce decree.

Paradox

2009-04-04T11:42:00.005-04:00

Most important life experiences are rooted in paradox. They have the quality of giving and taking simultaneously. Having children, for example, gives great pleasure and meaning while, at the same time, reducing familiar pleasures and generating routines that are often difficult to find meaningful. Marriage limits freedom while creating a depth of freedom that can't be found anywhere else.

Paradox offers a wonderful opportunity for personal growth provided we are willing to hold both sides of the paradox equally. In other words, if I devote all of my attention to the limitations that marriage brings and none to the freedom it offers, I will develop a skewed sense of the experience of marriage. I have to hold limitation and freedom in the same space and time in order to deepen my understanding of marriage.

Genuine growth, particularly in the realm of relationships, requires an ability to embrace the intricacies and complexities of an experience. Paradox is, necessarily, characterized by intricacy and complexity. It is, therefore, an ideal environment within which personal growth can take root. To avoid the experience of paradox in favor of the illusion of clarity is to avoid an opportunity to deepen one's life.

Is the Problem really the Problem?

2009-04-04T09:48:00.003-04:00

It seems reasonable to assume that if two caring, thoughtful, articulate and loving people go around the same problem more than three times without solving it, then the "problem" might not be the "problem." It seems likely that, in this circumstance, there is a problem that underlies what was thought to be the problem. The "problem" under the "problem" is often something bigger and less tangible... like trust or fear. Working through these bigger problems can make the more mundane problems disappear on their own.

Falling in Love

2009-04-04T09:25:00.003-04:00

Most of us have a soft spot in our hearts for the experience of falling in love. Often, we can look back on the first or deepest time of being passionately drawn to someone whom we were sure would meet most or all of our emotional needs. Sometimes we long for the return of the intensity, drive and passion that came with having fallen in love. A few of us are still looking for our first falling in love experience. We might envy those who have already had their shot and resent those who pass it off as an essentially unimportant event.

There are two distinct understandings of falling in love. First, there's the belief that it represents a kind of madness--a temporary loss of sanity. People who take this stance tend to assume that the decision to marry--to commit to spending the rest of one's life with someone--necessarily demands that we be out of our mind. So, falling in love is nature's way of generating the requisite amount of hysteria necessary to take the audacious leap into life long commitment. In other words, no one in their right mind would decide to marry. So, nature contrives to make us lose our minds thus making the decision to marry seem reasonable.

On the other hand, there is the belief that the experience of falling in love is one of those rare moments of complete sanity--complete clarity. It is when we fall in love that we feel completely seen for who we are and see our partner for who he/she is. Instead of clouding our vision, falling in love clarifies and validates. It is out of this absolute clarity--absolute sanity--that the reasonable decision to marry comes.
How we choose to understand this powerful experience will say a lot about how we "hold" the experience over time. If we choose to think of it as temporary insanity we'll likely devalue it and it's product--the commitment to a life union. If, on the other hand, we think of it as a time of genuine seeing and being seen, we'll likely cherish it and the relationship it fostered.

What is Your Theory of Change?

2008-09-18T10:47:00.008-04:00

If we take a moment, most of us can come up with our personal theory of how (or, if) people change. Think about how you parent... Or, how you train your dog... Or, how you manage your spouse... Or, run a committee. Often, we'll say to ourselves, "If I'm nice, they'll do what I want them to do." On the other hand, we might say, "If they know they will be punished for doing the wrong thing, then I can get them to do the "right" thing." The stance we take is a manifestation of our theory of change. "If I let him off the hook, he'll never change." "If I don't nag him after school, he'll never do his homework." "If I stop beating myself up about my poor eating habits, I will never eat well."

Consider this as a possibility--nothing of any consequence changes until it is fully accepted. Of course, we can make people do things. But, that won't change their hearts...certainly not in the way most of us want hearts to change. Most of us want to change important things about us. Most of us begin to believe that's actually possible when we find someone who's willing to accept us fully.

What's the Big Picture?

2008-09-06T20:12:00.022-04:00

The Starting Point

Soon, I will have thirty years of being a therapist under my belt. A substantial portion of that time has been accompanied by study, teaching and a variety of therapeutic experiences of my own. When I was in my early thirties I reminded myself that it was imprudent to write or say much publically before turning fifty. Youth has a natural impulsivity about it and I didn’t want to open myself to that unnecessarily. Now that I’m well past fifty I feel ready to hazard saying out loud some of the things I’ve learned. So, what follows is an offering of thoughts and feelings born of years spent listening to people struggle with both ordinary and extraordinary life circumstances. Read it knowing that it’s only my perspective and can be tossed as easily as it can be taken in. I have long since given up believing that what I say or write will have the exact, intended impact I was seeking. If it has an impact at all it will be what you allow it to have and no more.

What's so important about the path?

Every trip needs its map. While it may be fun to take a Sunday drive—to get in a vehicle and “see where the road takes us,”—if we are intent on arriving at a particular destination we need to have a fairly clear sense of our beginning point as it relates to our desired ending point. Sometimes the path comes in very specific terms. For example, people will say things like, "I want to retire at age 55." Or, "I'd like to have the kind of marriage where my spouse and I share recreational interests." At other times, the path comes in much more nebulous terms.

What's so important about the process?

Once we have established where we want to be, the next, obvious question is, “How do we get there?” The process is all about the internal working out of the problems that have been identified. Sometimes that involves looking at and reconsidering aspects of our history. Sometimes it means attending more fully to what's happening in the here and now.

What's so important about presence?

Presence is what allows us to make use of our path and our process. Often we are reactive to our path and/or our process. We don't like where we seem to be going. Consequently, we resist our path in ways that may make it impossible to get where we want to go. Or, we don't like how we feel...we can't bear our fear or anger. This may cause us to avoid the feelings or, on the other hand, we may identify with the feeling as we way of getting it over with. Presence allows us to be with our path, where ever it takes us, and our process, no matter what it brings. We can be with these aspects of our experience in a way that allows us to actually change our path or our process.