I am indebted to Clare Erhard and to Mark Spirtos who inspired this
conversation.
He and I have been good, close friends for a long, time. We've been
around each other through
our confusions
and
our clear moments,
our lows and our highs. But even his erstwhile lowest low wasn't
anywhere near as down as what he was going through now. He barely
spoke. And when he did, it was in a somber tone in an unusually (for
him)
quietvoice.
The pallor of his face, usually bright and healthy, was an ashen gray.
He was clearly not a happy camper.
Hanging his head, he told me his girlfriend had broken up with him. And
as he regaled, and as I already knew, he really loved her and was
intent on taking their relationship to the "next level". More than
that, he knew (or at least he thought he knew) they were
on the same page. So before they met for what would be the last time,
he assumed they would be planning their "next level". It didn't happen
- not by a long shot. Instead she "Dear John"-ed him. Ouch!
He was dumbfounded, shocked, taken aback. In his own subsequent
post-mortem, he struggled to come up with something, anything,
to explain it. He had looked at it from every possible angle, reviewing
every minutiae from all their times together. Nothing she said in
addressing his plaintive "But
why?",
was sufficient. The only certainty was it was over. And so we
sat,
he grappling with
why
she ended it, me
listening
intently, both of us knowing nothing she said, none of her rationale
fit her
actions
satisfactorily. His
sadness,
hurt, and
confusion
hung thick in the air like a wet,
velvet
mist. You could cut it with a knife.
Taking Responsibility For That Which Didn't Happen
I asked him "Was she cheating on you? Was she having an affair? Was
there somebody else?". He said no, there wasn't. I asked "Did you do
something that turned her off?". He said no, nothing that stood out,
nothing that he could come up with. "Can you think of anything?" I
asked, "Just look.". "No" he said after a long pause, exhaling
slowly, clearly pained, "We were so great. If I knew something,
anything I could 'fess up to, I would. But there's nothing.".
"OK" I said after my own pause and silence, "Is there anything you can
take responsibility for?". And again, "Nothing" he said,
still very
sad,
"I've shared everything that happened ie everything I can come up with,
with you.". "No" I said, "that's not what I'm getting at now. I mean
pick something, anything, to take responsibility for. Make it
up if you have to, even if she didn't say it was that.".
Perplexed,
he asked "But what good will it do to make up something that didn't
even happen?". "What it will do" I said, "is put you back in touch with
your experience of being
cause in the
matter.
If you and I can't complete this by explaining / understanding it, then
let's see if we can complete it by restoring your power in the matter
ie by bypassing the middleman, if you will.".
I could literally see his
resistance.
Then (to his credit) he warmed to my idea ... and said "I was away too
long.". "Please elaborate" I pressed, "What do you mean '(You were)
away too long'?". "Well" he said, "I was often away on business trips.
Three days at a time. Four days at a time. Five days at a
time. Heck, there was one chapter in my life with her when I was in two
different states a week for two years.". "And was that a problem
for her?" I asked. "No" he said, "She never said it was a problem for
her. And it really did happen. I really was away a lot. I
didn't make that up. But I did (since you asked me to) make up that for
her it was a problem, about which she didn't say anything
or
complain about.
So I'm taking responsibility for being away a lot.".
"A-Ha!" I exclaimed, "Good one! And now that
there's something you can take responsibility for (even though it
wasn't a problem for her), what's it like for you?".
There was actually some relief in his
voice.
"I get I can take responsibility for her breaking up with me, even
if I don't get
why
she did it.". "And where does that leave you?" I asked. "In ...
charge ... of ... my ... own ... life" he said, slowly,
exhaling with each word, "Isn't that what you call being
cause in the
matter?"
(you could tell he and I had touched on conversations like these
before). "So if you knew
why
she broke up with you, you could be
cause in the matter,
and even if you don't know
why
she broke up with you, you can still be
cause in the matter
- like a stand ie like a possibility, yes?" I ventured.
He was
quiet,
very
quiet.
I could tell something had shifted, something had shifted for him
big
time: he had
discovered
his
causality in the matter.
He had
discovered
(ie he had
re-discovered)
he could take responsibility in the
matter, even for that which didn't happen. And his
access
to that
re-discovery
was to pick something, anything, to take responsibility for. The
experience of being
cause in the matter
(and with it, an inherent sense of being in charge, at choice, in
control,
at peace)
is available just by picking something, anything, to take
responsibility for, even if (here's the kicker:) it didn't
actually happen.
He said "Wow!", slowly, over and over, about a dozen times, exhaling
with each utterance,
"Good coaching.
Thank you!", in response to which I was about to say my
usual "Don't thank me. Thank
Werner"
- but I didn't, and instead let it stand. Now's the time for him to be
rocked.
We can all thank
Werner
later.
