How to See People WHOLE

My husband says that he thinks I’m pretty darn perfect most of the time (and to be fair, he usually acts like he actually thinks this). Until…He doesn’t.

Every couple of months Tom suddenly expresses a list of gripes about me – most of which I’ve heard before. And so – upset but curious - I ask him, ‘Why don’t you tell me these things as they’re happening, rather than letting them bottle up and then randomly explode?’ He never really has an answer for me.

I, on the other hand, tend to express my frustrations as we go; something many men like to call “nagging”. And yes, it’s usually a repeat gripe (so whose fault it this – mine or his? We may never settle this one, I know…).

So, the reality is, we both have issues with one another at times. Who doesn’t? No matter how much I like and/or love someone, I don’t think any relationship can ever be 100% harmonious. Even my own mother – who says her children “can do no wrong” – is occasionally upset with my brother or me. And that’s just plain real.

Each of us has enlightened/ideal qualities… As well as practical/flawed qualities. If we choose to see just one aspect in someone, it’s eventually going to backfire on the both of us.

I know I’m not the exact same person 24/7, and much of the time I can admit this. Human interactions and communications can be complex and confusing. I don’t even always know why I do what I do or say what I say; although I can at least admit that and keep trying to learn more about myself to help me, myself and I – and friends/family – grow.

Anyway, show me someone you think is ‘perfect’, and chances are you’re idealizing them, are infatuated with them, or actually love their unique blend of hard and soft, dark and light, expected and mysterious behavior. Until for a bit or a long while, it rubs you the wrong way and you think you just can’t take it any longer. Well, welcome to the Real Relationships Club.

Being realistic about our own quirky traits and those of the ones we care about helps us find the compassion it takes to understand, forgive, move on, and hopefully learn something about ourselves along the way. We are then (ideally at least) given the same understanding and respect in return.

[Original Painting by Melanie Noel Light]

Writing a Book, pt. II – The Philosophical Side of a Creative Project’s Journey

Recently on the Heart & Soul blog we talked about embarking on a long-term project and how it stacks up in the scheme of our lives. While there’s a thrill from the potential of the project and a motivation to keep going, there is at times also a wistful aura around it when interruptions force a temporary separation.

But interruptions aren’t actually separate from our creative life’s journey; they are part of the journey. Like being on a road trip and having to pull over to change a tire… It is simply a detour to a new and unexpected experience. And it should be savored (or at least accepted) rather than viewed as something that’s not supposed to be happening.

So then what exactly does a creative project mean as it relates to our lives? Because there’s always some connection and some grander meaning to our creative endeavors. Using our imaginations to think differently, we are connecting with a deeper part of ourselves and bringing it out into the world. Therefore, any creative or novel activity not only brings about a new facet of reality, it also reflects our private inner journeys.

A book, for example, is always somewhat autobiographical, being part of the writer’s own story. And as the story and characters evolve, so do those of us involved. A certain partnership develops not only between those working together on the same project, but between project and creator. And as these relationships strengthen, so does the potential for our lives. For example, the vision for our fiction novel Something So Obvious has expanded along with that of our practice at Middle Way Health. The project itself has become part of our inner vision, part of our personal growth, and part of our professional growth.

Collaborating with others on a long-term project requires a mutual respect and admiration. This then evokes an equality that allows us to inspire one other, be open to new ideas, brainstorm out of blocks, and keep each other on track. We stay grounded by creating a healthy sense of place, which we accomplish by meeting at the office once a week, catching up on personal stuff, and then delving into the deliciousness of letting our minds wander freely.

But it is nonetheless a process, and process implies movement. It’s almost as if we’re all on a pilgrimage together, like we’re traveling in a moving train across landscapes that continually change and yet sometimes repeat without ever being exactly the same. Our lives go on just as the train traverses boundless territory. Meanwhile, we are part of the landscape - not mere observers - affecting it as well as we go. The conversations change as we get older and grow, incorporating our newness into the story and the story’s excitement into our own lives. The settings and characters constantly evolve, just like real life.

And yet, there’s also an odd ‘Alice in Wonderland’-like quality to the journey that can cause us to wonder at times whether we’re really going anywhere or if it’s the landscape that’s actually the thing moving around us. So we pause and ingest the big picture - newness and all – and realize that our project remains a tangible thing, building a framework to which we can take hold and a structure for the relationship that enables a genuine richness to flourish.

Any relationship is unique in itself, but it takes on another dimension when we have a common goal and work through it together. Like traveling companions, our conversations and habits change when embarking on this kind of a journey. There is a familiarity that allows us to share what feels necessary or right, and a focus that then pushes us to get down to the work at hand; Work that takes effort and persistence in bridging inner and outer worlds, but includes plenty of play in the rich realms of imagination.

Creating something, imagining something to life, and working with others on its manifestation can be a dizzying process. It may be moving fast when we want to slow down or it can seem at a standstill when we’d really like to be cruising at a comfortable pace. But here’s where the lesson of the journey is: We’re not in total control of the wheel, the winds, visibility, or other variable factors. They too are our silent partners, whether supporting us, guiding us, inspiring us, or providing necessary detours along the way.

Communication Styles ~

Dialogue. It’s not something we tend to think about much. We just do it, and fortunately it comes naturally to most of us. But are we really that good at it? Do we think about how we go about conversing with others and whether or not our typical style of communication is actually constructive? Dialogue is important for many reasons, to a large extent because we build relationships through it.

When communicating with someone, do you have to win them over, do you prefer coming to a consensus, or do you often just agree to disagree? Are you an antagonist, pacifist, or reside somewhere in the middle? Do you bounce back and forth, pinging to the edge and then back again? Or do you allow for synthesis to unfold, a third possibility coming to the surface when conversing with someone else? What about your internal dialogue? Are you aware of how it brings even more people into the discussion, how important perspective is, and how multiple perspectives can exist in any given conversation?

Yeah, there’s a lot there when you hold it up to the light.

Personally, I think my style depends not only on with whom I’m talking, but also what we’re discussing. Is there passion in the opinion from the get-go or a conflict already in existence? Are we aware of what the issue is and how we’re feeling about it? Are we on the same page and communicating on the same level? It’s not always easy to tell, and can in fact make relating seem like a science.

Communication with particular people can be highly delicate at times, vacillating between harmonious and volatile. With others, however, conversations may feel downright effortless. So what’s the magic equation for relating? There might be a whole slew of theories and equations, ranging from simple addition and subtraction to complex calculus-like brainteasers.

Most of us would rather communicate clearly and easily – and let’s be honest – not have to think so much about it. But not always seeing eye to eye isn’t necessarily a bad thing and doesn’t have to mean that we’re disagreeing. We each simply view things from our own perspective. Sometimes the exchange ends in agreement, while at other times we’re left with open-ended questions.

“There just isn’t always going to be a resolution,” Stephen says. “Some things aren’t going to work out.” Besides, he adds, “I’m always suspicious when things are too tidy. When I think I have it all figured out, I know I’m getting close to disaster.” He chuckles.

Seated in our cushy chairs, we both look out the window at McKinley Park just across the way. Sometimes I think we’re speaking different languages, but the intention for communion is there, and so that’s usually what we get. Engaging in the act of communication means we have relationships – and that’s a great thing – but as we all know, relationships can be challenging. Dialogue-ing is a process, just like most everything else in life. It requires awareness, practice and patience, repeatedly.

“I always prefer the peripatetic style of dialogue,” Stephen continues, as I give him a perplexed look he’s probably used to by now. “This is when you walk and talk, rather than flying around or being stuck.” I know the style; just hadn’t heard the word before. “You’re not so fixated on body or mind, and the rhythm from the movement helps relax and open you up.” Makes perfect sense to me. “You don’t feel confronted by another or confined by the walls or the room. Walking helps you balance internally because you’re literally going back and forth on two feet.”

“Ah, yes - Aristotle style,” I say. “That’s my favorite too.” Maybe we should try it.