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Conscious
Committment
Written by Johnathan Wellwood
Genuine commitment
involves much more than simply staying together. It is based
neither on "shoulds," which create external obligations and
eventual rebellion, nor on idealistic hopes, which can leave
couples unprepared to deal with real-life difficulties. The
essence of a living commitment is two people's devotion to their
mutual unfolding. The basis for this kind of devotion is an
underlying commitment within each individual to open more fully to
life. In former times, commitment was defined and imposed on a
couple by family and society. However, now that external pressures
are no longer enough to keep most couples together, a more
conscious approach is called for. Instead of starting out as a
promise "till death do us part"-spoken at the marriage altar, a
commitment that is conscious develops gradually, evolving out of a
relationship that has successfully navigated its way through many
difficult passages. Initially, two partners cannot be sure just
what they are doing together or how far their relationship can go.
Yet, through testing the power of their connection-the depth of
their love and their capacity to handle its challenges-they can
become clearer about its place in their lives, and thus honor and
affirm it more wholeheartedly. Such a commitment is awake and
alive. Unlike something manufactured out of duty, hope, or
preconceived ideas, it emerges organically from the relationship's
own ripening. And it is full of passion, freshness, and
spontaneity ... the very juice of love.
Steps toward a Conscious Commitment
The following steps are suggested not to propose yet another
prescription for achieving perfect harmony, but rather to
encourage a careful consideration of how commitment can evolve
more consciously.
* Making a genuine connection. The ground of a strong and lasting
commitment is a passionate connection between two people whose
beings say yes to each other. When two people connect being to
being, they experience a deep "soul resonance" that goes beyond
mere romance or desire. Something powerful and real inside them
starts waking up and coming alive in each other's presence. It
often comes as a surprise, for they cannot reason themselves into
it or out
of it.
Although this resonance seems to arise mysteriously out of
nowhere, it may be understood quite simply. just as the body of a
guitar amplifies and enriches the vibration of the strings to
produce a full, rich musical sound, so does the resonance between
two beings amplify and enrich the qualities of each one. This
kind of "soul connection" is much more sustaining than the
attraction to personality or personal attributes. Out of this
passionate resonance grows a devotion to each other's well-being.
* Testing the
connection. The deeper a soul connection is, the more it brings
out the best and the worst in us. Along with our openheartedness,
we begin to experience our deepest fears, insecurities, and
resistances to intimacy.
We may become more emotional,
jealous, or unreasonable than we had ever thought possible. We may
discover new intensities of terror. We may recoil in horror at all
the hard, tight places we come up against inside ourselves. And we
may seriously doubt whether we have what it takes to make a go of
relationship at all. Real intimacy, in
short, brings up our unfinished business-all the rough edges that
still need to be developed, refined, and polished.
Such experiences provide a way of testing ourselves and our
relationship. Can we handle the disappointment of realizing that
we can never be everything to each other? That we can never meet
all of each other's needs? Can we include the thunderstorms along
with the sweetness and love? Does our relationship depend on a
limited set of roles, or can we make room for all our different
sides?
The main question facing a couple as they come up against their
rough edges is this: Can we work with whatever arises between us,
no matter how demanding it may be, and include that as part of our
path together? Working with whatever arises means facing it and
meeting it with our attention and concern, so that we can find a
way to move through it. If we cannot do this, we can never be
fully present in the relationship, and thus never fully committed.
Certainly, one or both partners will want to run away from
difficulties at times. That is to be expected. In working with
their differences, couples can also expect to experience moments
of intense frustration with each other and even the desire to give
up. The important question is not whether we sometimes go away,
but
whether we come back. What keeps a relationship moving forward is
our intention to face what is happening.
* Forging a container. In working with what comes up between them,
two partners discover just how large their relationship can be. Is
it a narrow box that they must squeeze themselves into? Or is it a
spacious vessel that can accommodate all the different parts of
both people? Only a sufficiently large container can encompass all
of who we are. Forging a strong, healthy container involves
learning to accommodate all the feelings that arise in
relationship. Even if we do not like our feelings, we can learn to
make a friendly space for them instead of ignoring or criticizing
them. This means giving ourselves permission to feel what we feel,
and doing the same for our partner.
Another way to accommodate feelings is to work out a balance
between containment and expression. Impulsively venting emotions
simply because we are uncomfortable holding them will eventually
overwhelm our partner and shut down communication. Instead, we can
learn to consciously contain these feelings by bringing attention
to them, giving them space, and seeing what they have to tell us.
Equally limiting is the tendency to withdraw inwardly every time
something hurts or makes us angry. When we withhold feelings, we
close off entire areas of interaction. Our work then involves
learning to open up and become more expressive.
A major obstacle to accommodating difficult feelings is the belief
that we should not have them in the first place. For example,
Peter had trouble acknowledging the anxiety he felt about the
arrival of his firstborn child. For weeks, he fought off his fears
because they contradicted his image of How a Real Man Should Be.
He also wondered whether his wife
would still love him if he revealed just how upset he was. As we
began working together, Peter made space for his feeling of "I
can't handle this," and thus relieved some of the pressure,
allowing him to consider what was really going on. More feelings
soon surfaced, as did important information: he was feeling
neglected by his wife and needed to take better care of himself as
well.
Still, he did not discuss the situation with his wife right away.
Had blurted out his raw feelings ("I'm upset and want to get away.
I hate that you're spending so much time with the baby ..... ),
he might only have put Diane on the defensive. Instead, he did the
inner work of connecting with his feelings, caring for them, and
giving them space. By containing his feelings in this way, he got
to know them better, and was soon able to express himself clearly
and skillfully: "I've been having a hard time wondering whether I
can handle all this, and that scares me. I want to be a good
husband and father, but I'm really feeling stressed out. And I'm
concerned about how little meaningful time we have together
anymore."
This evoked Diane's
empathy. It also aroused some uncomfortable feelings and
uncertainties on her part. However, by creating a space together
in which to share the pain and difficulty of their situation,
along with their deepest fears, they grew closer than they had
since the birth of their baby. Indeed, those feelings that at
first seem most threatening can actually promote deeper intimacy,
provided that both partners are able to accommodate and share them
openly More typically in relationships, one partner shuts down
when the other expresses difficult feelings. Grant had fallen in
love with Teresa after sharing some very warm and open moments
together. Yet, as they grew closer, Teresa's old fears about
intimacy began to surface. When she tried to tell Grant about
them, he felt angry and disappointed; but instead of letting her
know how he felt, he distanced himself from her and nursed his
anger in private. As a result, they began to grow apart.
What Grant did not realize was that communicating about obstacles
to intimacy can itself be a vital form of intimacy. After some
counseling, he began to see that if he wanted greater intimacy, he
would have to make room not only for Teresa's fears, but also for
his own responses to them. Eventually, he was able to share his
honest feelings with her: "When you get scared and pull back, I
feel tremendously sad and disappointed. I'm afraid I'm losing a
love that is really healing to me." This sparked Teresa's empathy,
invited her to share her fears, and drew her close to her partner
again. When two people accommodate their feelings in this way,
they gain confidence in including the whole of themselves in their
relationship. This naturally increases their sense of commitment.
Including all of ourselves in a relationship means walking a thin
line, neither suppressing who we are nor indulging our habitual
patterns. All too often, we assume that we must bend ourselves out
of shape to fit into a relationship. One might think, for
instance, "Now that I am married, I shouldn't feel longings for
independence, for being alone, or for other deep, intimate
friendships." In reality, no matter how committed a person is to a
relationship, he or she will continue to feel desires to be alone
as well as attractions to other people. If we try to eliminate
such feelings, they may only haunt us and cause us to view the
relationship as a prison. Or they may suddenly erupt as an
irresistible desire to run off and have an affair. When commitment
becomes a glue that keeps us stuck in a single mode of feeling, we
cannot help but experience the urge to break free of it.
Beware of critic
stories! One habitual pattern that is particularly destructive
occurs when we interpret certain feelings as a sign that something
is wrong with us. At these times, we give in to our "critic"-that
scolding, attacking inner voice that tells us we are never good
enough and, just to prove the point, contrives ominous stories
that serve as self-fulfilling prophecies. An essential task for
couples, then, is to distinguish these fictional narratives,
mental fabrications, and judgments from the real feelings that
gave rise to them. Those who are able to make this distinction
will be better prepared to work directly with their difficult
emotions and less likely to be misled or intimidated by
gloom-and-doom stories.
Peter's nagging belief-that because he felt so much conflict about
his new baby, he must be a horrible person-is an example of a
story told by the critic. In truth, Peter's feeling of being
overwhelmed did not mean that something was wrong with him; it was
simply a signal to pay attention to some
pressing needs. Diane could have made up a critic story as well,
perhaps concluding that Peter was unreliable and that their
marriage was in danger. Such a story would have prevented her from
hearing Peter's explanation. Moreover, had she blamed him for his
feelings, she would have further
activated his critic and set in motion a sequence of events that
might well have led to the disastrous conclusion she imagined.
Because a relationship inevitably brings our habitual patterns to
the surface, it is easy to start attacking ourselves or blaming
our partner for the powerful emotions that are released. However,
we need to remember that when difficult feelings arise, they do
not indicate that something is wrong with us. Feeling anger does
not mean that I am an aggressive person. Feeling vulnerable does
not mean that I am weak. Feeling fear about giving does not mean
that I am hopelessly selfish. If we can see the volatility of our
feelings as a sign that a relationship is deeply affecting us and
shaking loose some old habitual patterns, then we can let the
feelings arise and pass through us without condemning ourselves
for having them.
As two lovers work with what comes up between them, a real trust
starts to blossom. Then they can say, with honesty and humor, I
have seen your tricks, and I want to go forward with you,
including all of that." This kind of trust is different from the
naive faith of "Because we love each other, I know you'll never
hurt me." Genuine trust develops between two people not because
everything about them is trustworthy, but because they can work
with all the different parts of themselves, including those that
are not trustworthy.
As commitment grows, it turns into an alchemical vessel in which
all the personality patterns that cloud our full, radiant
expression can be held and healed within love's larger embrace.
The healing comes about through the heat of the connection, which
transforms these patterns into the gold of authentic being.
Flashes of this gold, first glimpsed in the initial rush of love,
may now shine through more brightly
* Going beyond "me first." Intimate relationships always ask us to
give up
something we cherish: certain favorite privacies, preferences, or
ways of staying secure. They require us to take a leap beyond our
usual style of defending our personal territory, to come out of
hiding and leave behind old egocentric attitudes and behaviors.
Going beyond a "me
first" attitude involves taking a leap-letting go of my primary
preoccupation with getting my own needs met at all costs. When I
let go in this way, I become less demanding, my concern for my
partner's well-being expands, and I become more sensitive to the
needs of the relationship as a whole. In moving beyond what feels
personally safe and comfortable I begin to cast in my lot with my
partner. I am no longer the sole center of my life.
When a child is born, a couple is called upon to take an even more
difficult step-to go beyond "us first." They are asked to
relinquish many of their shared pleasures in order to care for
their child's needs. It is no wonder that partners immersed in the
early years of parenting sometimes question what they are doing. A
healthy response to this kind of questioning is to go back,
reexamine the reasons for being together, and reaffirm the
dedication to opening more fully to life through the relationship.
One couple I know, whose baby suddenly developed a serious illness
requiring many years of intensive care, found their love and
commitment deepening during this crisis.
* Developing a vision and making a choice. The more two people
help each other work with whatever challenges arise, the more they
appreciate how much their connection serves their mutual
unfolding. This helps them develop a vision of what they are doing
together-which in turn allows them to make a clear, conscious
choice to be together.
Oddly enough, many people marry without ever consciously choosing
to be in a committed relationship; they remain in the marriage
halfheartedly, forever fin ing reasons for complaint and
dissatisfaction. How important it is to see clearly what
commitment involves and, if that is what we want, to choose it as
a way of life. Then, whatever difficulties arise can become part
of the journey rather than cause to complain or bail out.
In earlier times, society and family defined the man-woman
relationship. Now, each couple must forge their own vision to
guide and inspire them to keep moving forward. A vision that
develops out of testing the relationship and seeing how two lovers
can further each other's unfolding forms a much stronger bond than
any hope or obligation. Vision and conscious choice give us
strength to keep going, even when our courage or confidence may
wane.
The Journey of Commitment
Conscious commitment is a pact between beings, not between
personalities. In effect, my partner and I say to each other,
"Whatever problems our personalities have together, we will not
let them come between us. If our egos are at war, we will not let
that ruin our deeper connection; we will always come back and meet
on this deeper level. We will help each other wake up and become
all that we can be. We will keep opening to each other and to life
itself in and through this relationship."
Without such an alliance between our beings, our egos will surely
conspire to perpetuate old habitual patterns, and the container we
create may become a prison or a hollow shell. Conscious commitment
is to being together, not just staying together.
Above all, it is important not to be too idealistic about this
journey-not to force anything on ourselves, or pretend to be ahead
of where we really are. Approaching commitment as a "should" will
only hurl us into unconsciousness and set us up for difficulties
or failures. Those of us who undertake this journey are having to
learn something new: how to let commitment evolve naturally,
through many ups and downs, and numerous steps forward and back.
Uncertainty about whether we can handle the challenges along the
way is not a
problem, for it is part of the path itself. We can take heart in
the words of Chogyam Trungpa, a Tibetan teacher who was once asked
how he managed to escape the Chinese invasion and trek across the
snowbound Himalaya, with little preparation and no assurance of
the route or the outcome. His reply was brief: "One foot after the
other."
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