Rupture and repair

It is no secret that, for many, intimate relationship is one of the great amplifiers of the unlived life. We can count on our partners to relentlessly illuminate everything that is longing for wholeness within us. Not because they have some agenda to do so, but simply by the nature of the crucible that forms when we allow another to truly matter to us.

We come to our relationships with an already-existing patterning that formed long ago, crafted of both personal and collective material. While this template can be updated and itself longs for reorganization into more integrated forms, until reconfiguration it has a way of looming over us and coloring our perception. It functions in large part by way of a time machine where, when activated, it is as if we have left the “here and now,” crossed the liminal, and found ourselves back in the “there and then.”

There are aspects of ourselves that are aching to come out of the shadows and into the warmth of holding awareness. Not to harm, but as forerunners and emissaries of wholeness. There is nothing like a close relationship to remind us of the orphaned emotions, feelings, and vulnerable parts of ourselves that have lost their way in the tangle of somatic and psychic pathways. They are exhausted from a long voyage to reach us, but have not given up.

The reminder of this truth by way of intimacy can at times be a bit agonizing, as the beloved may seem to have extraordinary powers to open the raw, tender, and naked dimensions of our being. But this achiness is sacred and its embodied exploration is holy. Inside the ache is a jewel. Go there.

Please be kind to your partners in response to the inevitable conflict that will arise as you make this journey together. Learning how to harness the energy of conflict – and to engage it directly, skillfully, and with an open heart – is essential on the path of intimacy, and requires the encoding of new circuitry.

The transformative art of rupture and repair is one that is endlessly profound, revealing that relationships of vast depth and meaning are *not* those which are free of conflict, but those where working through conflict is embraced as path, as a unique and transmutative vessel of purification, love, and healing.

This is a difficult and alchemical realization to come by, and one that is unfortunately not all that popular in a world that has forgotten the gold that has been buried in the dark. But here we are. It is up to us to bring these fruits into the collective.

My new book – The Path Is Everywhere: Uncovering the Jewels Hidden Within You – is now available 

The next event, The Magic of Being Fully Human, to be held in Ojai, CA on October 14-15. 

A friend of the breath

Beyond all the theories, approaches, interventions, and strategies, for me therapeutic companionship is a process of bearing witness to the life of another as they come to befriend themselves in a way that was not possible until now. To excavate meaning where there was none, to find purpose in the core of the purposelessness, to somehow bear that which has previously been unbearable.

Interestingly, if we look at the etymology of the word "psychotherapy," "psyche" in Greek referred to "soul" or "breath." Therapeuin derives from the idea of caring for, accompanying, or tending to. So engaging in psychotherapy, in this sense - an outrageous act ultimately open to anyone with a human heart - is to tend to the soul or even care for the breath, the life force, the essence. A friend of the soul. A friend of the breath.

This befriending is not ordinary or passive, not always flowing and peaceful. It is fierce, on fire, and an act of revolution. It is the light shining out of the core of the dark night, the outrageousness of the human spirit, and the basic goodness of the human heart. It is standing on the rooftop and declaring that pain is not pathology, grief is not pathology, despair is not pathology, confusion is not pathology, that heartbreak is not pathology. Rather, that they are path.

At times, each of us will be invited to walk into the dark wood with another, into the disorienting and hopeless places, without knowing where the journey will lead, if we will make it out in one piece, or where new life will be found. We will be asked to make sense together of where they have been, who they see themselves to be, and what they are longing to become. To illuminate what matters most to them and cradle it in our shared heart. To help them gather the pieces of the broken world.

To proclaim their experience as valid, that their feelings are intelligent, that their vulnerability is whole, and that they are worthy of our care and presence as they are. That even if their pain constellates that which is unresolved within us, that we will remain close, and not place the burden of our unlived lives upon them. That despite the pain of the present, the traumas of the past, and the fragmented dreams of the future we will dare to reclaim the aspects, parts, and pieces of the soul that have been turned from, now longing to return home. That we will participate in the sacred assembly that is gathering before our very eyes, an assembly of the shattered. And open to the creativity of the light as it appears at times in darkened, disguised forms.

We will assert together that pain is not evidence that they have "failed," that something is fundamnetally "wrong" with them, or that they must first be "cured" in order for us to stay near. Rather, we will affirm that their suffering is authentic, that their hopelessness is well-founded, that it is honorable, that it is integral to the unfolding of their unique journey. That they are not a project to be solved, but a mystery to be lived.

And then, from that foundation of companionship and bearing witness to the sacredness of what a human being truly is—including the profound grief, despair, and moments of great joy—we are able to turn together into the unknown and bow before its immensity. In awe at the mystery, together.

It is awesome, in the truest sense of the word, to bear witness in this way. To fall to the ground in the beholding of the divine in action, of the unstoppable wild bravery of the human spirit, and the relentlessness and creativity of love as it makes its way into form.

It is easy and very natural at times to deflate as we look around at the tragedy of what happens when we forget, when we lose touch with what matters most, and fall into trance. But in any moment, no matter what is disintegrating around us, we can remember, we can open again, be a friend of the breath, and pray for whatever wisdom and skillful means are available here to help others. We can start wherever we are, right now, in this moment. In this holy moment. Together, we can encode new circuitry into a world that has understandably grown a bit weary.

Photo credit: James Estrin/ New York Times

My new book – The Path Is Everywhere: Uncovering the Jewels Hidden Within You – is now available 

The next event, The Magic of Being Fully Human, to be held in Ojai, CA on October 14-15. 

"Ego" as a doorway to wholeness

Someone recently asked why I do not write about the "ego" and my understanding of that term. It’s not a word I use often as I have come to find it to be a pretty disembodied and experience-distant concept. Also, it is one of those words which usually carries with it an element of shame, often used as a way to attack our vulnerability and humanness. But mostly, I have looked long and hard and have never found such a thing in my immediate experience.

It might be helpful to see "ego" as a process or verb, rather than a noun, countering the idea that it is some reified entity that exists within us, surprisingly with a voice similar to early, misattuned attachment figures. The "ego" is often spoken about as some "thing" that takes us over – a nasty, ignorant little person inside who causes us to be really lame and unevolved. Above all else, it's super unspiritual, something we must work hard to "get rid of." If the ego is anything, it is likely those voices yelling at us to "get rid of it." But how do we get rid of something that isn’t actually there?

When we slow down and step outside the world of conceptual spirituality, attuning to our actual present experience, do we find an "ego" there? Or is the "ego" a disembodied concept that we learned one day? Please don't take my word for it. Turn inside and see.

One simple way of approaching "ego" is as any activity which leads us to turn from, abandon, deny, or practice aggression toward what is present in our immediate experience. If sadness, rage, a constricted throat, a heavy heart, an aroused nervous system, or cascade of critical, ruminative thoughts appear, ego would be that process whereby we move away from that experience rather than toward it, which would be a more embodied, yogic, or compassionate response.

This movement away, the essence of so much of our emotional suffering, takes place by denying what is there, on the one hand; or fusing with it as who we ultimately are on the other. Both strategies (corresponding to limbic fight-flight as well as anxious-avoidant attachment) inevitably trigger engagement with compensatory (addictive) behavior, designed to take us as quickly as possible out of our embodied vulnerability.

In other words, ego is a process of dissociation and splitting off, in the attempt to prevent overwhelming anxiety from spilling into conscious awareness. Or, in spiritual language, the attempt to protect us from just how open, unknown, and mysterious it really is here, where anything could happen at any time. We could lose our jobs, a loved one could die, a lover could leave us, our hearts could break, we could forget why we're here, and the meaning in our lives could dissolve in front of our very eyes.

If we want to know more about ego in an experiential way, we can start by getting really curious about those feelings we will do just about anything to avoid. We can make the commitment to notice when we are caught in habitual, addictive behavior, including complaining, blaming others (or ourselves), unconscious self-aggression, eating when not hungry, etc. - anything, really, to avoid feeling.

It can be icky to turn toward the panic, claustrophobia, restlessness, and sense that things are just not safe. But we do so in any case, slowly, not out of some masochistic compulsion, but out of curiosity, self-compassion, and a longing to love and care for ourselves in a new way.

What is it that I'm trying to avoid? What aspect of my vulnerability am I needing to bail out on? Would I, even for a second or two, be willing to shift the momentum and meet that which has been trying to reach me for so long? To invite that one home and see what he or she has to say? To end the cycle of abandonment.

In this way, we can use the surges of "ego" - whatever it is - as an invitation and reminder to infuse our experience with empathy, warmth, kindness, and breath. In this sense, ego is an invitation into presence, a special, wrathful sort of doorway into wholeness.

Love will do anything to reach us, even create concepts like "the ego," in the longing that we will use even those to return home. So I suppose in this way we can salvage the use of the term "ego," at least for today.

Image of Pangong Tso, near Ladakh, where I found myself wandering one summer

My new book – The Path Is Everywhere: Uncovering the Jewels Hidden Within You – is now available 

The next event, The Magic of Being Fully Human, to be held in Ojai, CA on October 14-15.