Posted on May 15, 2013
“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
~ Ann Landers
Over the past few years (yes, years) I have slowly been working through a book called Spiritually Oriented Psychotherapy (2005). It is a collection of essays from various therapeutic perspectives on the relationship or integration of spirituality and psychotherapy. It is not a read for the faint of heart—or mind. I read a bit here and there when my head and heart are in the space to absorb and digest the words strung into sentences, put together in paragraphs, that form the essays. Hence the time it has taken me just to get to chapter 4! It will be awhile yet before this book is completed.
Most recently through this slow reading, a new concept was introduced to me: the Chinese attitude of wu-wei—“that is, letting things happen and unfold on their own” (p. 67). Combine this with my new understanding of stress: not knowing the outcome and/or not having control; and voilá, the seeds for developing a tool for stress management. Or as the authors of the essay write, “an attitude of openness to the unknown” (p. 67).
This leads me to wonder about how I can actually use this concept to handle everyday stresses as well as the all-consuming kind. My tendency is to dwell, ruminate, or obsess ‘ad nauseam’ on whatever has gotten under my scalp to fret about. It intrigues me that this may be my coping strategy when I am (un)aware that I have no control over the outcome of my problem. Perhaps it is my brain’s effort to come up with a solution to an unsolvable situation—hence a false sense of control or action. I am not doing ‘nothing’ about my problem—I am thinking about it—expending energy in useless effort, mind you.
So what if I were to let it go to work itself out? To let things happen and unfold of their own? Am I open to the unknown? To the unknown of an “Unknown” working out the problem? To the unknown of an unknown solution? What if I don’t like how things are resolved? Ah, hence the anxiety. I want to have some say in the matter. I want my thoughts and opinions to count, to have some import. What if I were to let go of that and simply trust the process?
Yes indeed, what would happen if I were to trust ‘this’ to work itself out? I most certainly cannot leave my head in the sand. For one, I won’t be able to observe things happening and unfolding. For another, when things begin to happen and unfold, I won’t be able to interact with those changes should opportunities arise.
Now obviously some discretion is called for here. We can claim to be ‘letting go’ to let things unfold on their own when actually we are absconding responsibility to influence change because it is frightening or overwhelming. We have found some way to manage the status quo, maintain equilibrium—even if in an unhealthy dynamic. There are other times when our fretting and fussing is a reluctance to take a step back from the situation and merely observe.
What is getting in the way of your openness to the unknown? To allow things to follow their own course to resolution? What may be keeping you stuck? May you experience the freedom of letting go when needed or the courage to take action when required.
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Posted on Apr 15, 2013
“The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through.”
~Henri Nouwen
I have recently finished reading through the book The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey through Anguish to Freedom by Henri Nouwen (1998). It is a polished version of his own journal entries of a very significant time for him. For me, it was a rather strange experience—a bit like voyeurism—peeking into the interior life of another person. The strange part was how much I related to his journey—somewhat like reading my own journal using someone else’s words.
Some of which he talked about, I have already been through; some was new ground for me. Some points I disagreed with, others I agreed with fully. It was a very personal journey made public—yet it was a shared experience in that we all struggle through anguish hoping to find freedom from it. Our journeys are the same, yet vastly different. Public yet personal
One entry that resonated with me was entitled, “Live Your Wounds Through.” Nouwen’s concluding thoughts that day were:
You have to let go of the need to stay in control of your pain and trust in the healing power of your heart. There your hurts can find a safe place to be received, and once they have been received, they lose their power to inflict damage and become fruitful soil for new life. Think of each wound as you would a child who has been hurt by a friend. As long as that child is ranting and raving, trying to get back at the friend, one wound leads to another. But when the child can experience the consoling embrace of a parent, she or he can live through the pain, return to the friend, forgive, and build up a new relationship. Be gentle with yourself, and let your heart be your loving parent as you live your wounds through.(Nouwen, 1998, p. 110).
These words struck a powerful chord with me. Being a (recovering) control freak, I am very prone to wanting to control my emotional pain. As well, I don’t give the healing power of my heart much credit. So I end up inhibiting the healing process. It is like telling my body how to heal from a deep gash—but no pain allowed. Without the reminder of the pain to be careful, the same wound can easily get re-injured over and over again—hindering the natural healing process.
I want to work around the emotional pain of deep internal wounds. If I could think my way through, then I render the pain impotent and unnecessary. Not only is my heart not a safe place for my wounds, I also deprive that place to become “fruitful soil for new life.” I would rather live damaged and disabled than healed and fruitful. I would also rather live pain-free than parent/nurture myself and build a new understanding of/relationship with my own self. How we stunt our own personal growth!
Somehow we have convinced ourselves that pain is harmful and to be avoided at all costs; that somehow once we experience pain, we won’t feel anything else—ever again; that pain is permanent—nor can it co-exist with other emotions and/or states of being. Sometimes our pain is indeed overwhelming. Hence our need for support systems—even if as frail as our attempts to parent/nurture our own selves or our allowing our wounds to be received by our own hearts.
What is getting in the way of your own pain journey? What is blocking your path through grief to restoration and joy? May you enlist the courage to live through your woundedness, to ‘be there’ for yourself with kindness and gentleness, to work through the anguish to freedom.
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Posted on Mar 20, 2013
We all know where the road leads that’s paved with good intentions. Maybe that’s why, realistically, our intentions are irrelevant most of the time. Somehow many of us have fallen into the trap of justifying our actions with our intentions. However, regardless of what our intentions are or are not, our words and actions can inadvertently hurt others. And whether or not we intended to hurt a fellow human being, if our words or actions caused harm, we need to own up to that and make amends.
How many of us have begun an apology, I never intended to hurt you, but….? By qualifying our apology in that way, we are trying to give ourselves a break/get ourselves ‘off the hook’ somehow. It’s as if our intentions, whatever they may be, hold more value or weight than what we say or do, or what impact our words and actions have on others. In a nutshell, we tend to believe our intentions have more value than whatever hurt feelings someone else may harbour.
Of course, there is always a flip side. We also know many a manipulator who uses our words and actions against us. And we try to defend ourselves with our intentions. How do we handle that situation? How can we own our words and actions without falling prey to being manipulated or taken advantage of?
Again, intentions are irrelevant. When faced with bullying behaviour, we only have control over how we respond—our own counter-behaviour. Often, our own sense of being attacked or put on the defensive is the cue. If we sense our words are being twisted and used against us, there really is no need to engage in a battle of words—or intentions. As difficult as it may seem, there is truth to the statement of choosing our battles. Simply put, we can own our own feelings and respond accordingly—calling someone on their own behaviour and setting a boundary or limit. Books have been written on this subject. Maybe in a future blog post, I will review some of the classic manipulations and appropriate responses.
Another layer to our good intentions running a muck is triggers. What we say and do may trigger another person to have a certain response. That person is fully responsible for their own reaction to that trigger. However, there is a delicate balance of communicating and respecting triggers. If someone tells you a tone of voice is a trigger for them, you can get defensive and pull out your good intentions, or you can honour the courage it took for that person to communicate their trigger and the request for changed behaviour. Which option sounds like a longer-term, healthier solution to interpersonal conflict?
Same goes for the reverse. If we find ourselves triggered by someone’s words or actions, we can use that internal cue to make a request and/or process what the trigger is all about. Of course, there is always the possibility that our request is negated or turned down. It is then up to us to make a counter offer or figure some other way through this interpersonal conflict. That can be tricky.
Our intentions really don’t count for much when it comes to negotiating the turbulent waters of interacting with other human beings. We can set boundaries with good or harmful intentions. We can respond to triggers with good or harmful intentions. We can be railroaded or respected. But do we have a sturdy water-safe vessel, appropriate gear, paddles in good shape, and the skills to navigate the rapids of interpersonal communication?
The starting point is those skills. We can have all the right equipment; but if we don’t know how to use it, we will soon flounder under pressure. One of those skills is having a good sense of self including a good set of boundaries and a good understanding of who we are in relation to others.
Journey mercies to you as you continue to learn about yourself and navigate the rapids of life.
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