Slow Dancing with My Ex-Wife

Ma'ikwe and I agreed to restart our intimate partnership Aug 24. While I'm very happy to have this chance, our re-entry is downright meditative.

Now 10 days into the current incarnation of our relationship, we've had three dates where we hung out and cuddled some. We've been together at Twin Oaks since Friday (first for their Communities Conference and then for the FIC fall organizational meetings) and most days we've eaten a meal at the same table. 

Every now and then we'll be together and she'll hold my hand or lean against me (which is precious), but there are days we don't touch at all. Ma'ikwe is reacclimating to me as partner at her own pace, and I get to practice patience.

We're basically working on her timetable and, at least for now, that means all ahead slow. Ma'ikwe and I will be together for another week before she returns to Missouri (while I remain on the East Coast for the remainder of the month). While I originally thought that her accepting my offer to try again meant that we'd be sleeping together, it hasn't meant that so far.

Given that I've never before attempted what I'm doing right now (trying to start over again with my wife) I don't have a road map to follow. Maybe going slowly is exactly right.

While I miss having more regular time with Ma'ikwe, the limited amount we've had has lead me to treat those occasions with heightened consciousness. Of late, intimacy has come to mean paying close attention, being minimally reactive, and taking pleasure in Ma'ikwe's emerging smiles. It's about enjoying what's possible, being available, and not pushing for something else. It's about presence.

It's also an exercise in letting go of expectations. While Ma'ikwe has agreed to hold my hand into this uncertain future—at least for the coming months, as we explore the fields of our new intimacy—I have little idea where the ground is. My main work right now is breathing through the anxiety of leaving familiar territory and entering terra incognita. I am learning to cope with my fear of falling; my fear of being lost; my fear of becoming entangled in the bared wire that marks the boundaries of pastures I've been asked to not enter. I am confronting my fear of being unwanted and decoupling Ma'ikwe's not reaching for me as proof of her disinterest. 

It's a lot of breathing, self care, and listening for the soft, deep resonance of our dance on uncertain terrain.

Dating My Ex-Spouse

Last Thursday Ma'ikwe and I had a date. It was the first time we purposefully spent time together that was not work-related since she ended our marriage July 14.

It started the way most Thursdays evenings do: by ordering a pizza at the Milkweed Mercantile. After picking up our hot pie, we stopped by Moon Lodge (Ma'ikwe's home), collected a jar of Kalamata olives and a bottle of wine (interestingly, it was a pinot noir produced by Irony Wine Cellars in Monteca CA—how perfect was that for a date with your ex-wife?) and walked down to a shaded bridge on the path between DR and Red Earth, the neighboring community to the west.

There we shared stories. Some were things from our childhood that we didn't think the other knew. Some were poignant revelations about the tenderness and uncertainty of what we were doing together. Some were about the impossibility of our situation because we couldn't fully know what we'd create unless we committed to the attempt—and Ma'ikwe is in anguish at the possibility of making the same mistake twice.

Afterwards, it occurred to me how appropriate it was that we our date mostly occurred on a bridge, as that's the metaphor that I'm holding around where Ma'ikwe and I are in our evolving dance of intimacy. After Ma'ikwe sundered the bridge between us that we'd consecrated in our wedding ceremony back in 2007, I was more or less got dropped on my head and my heart cracked open.

Seeing the world differently I was able to behave differently (at least some of the time), and suddenly the prospects of what Ma'ikwe and I could create looked differently. Rather than accepting the inevitability of our separation, I made her an Offer: I would change how I saw our partnership and how I organized major parts of my life, if she would make also make commitments to being with me differently. Essentially I walked halfway out on a new bridge and asked her to meet me there. She's thinking about it.

Our decision to date was a response to my Offer. Understandably, Ma'ikwe isn't sure she can trust that I can do things so differently, and she's not sure that she can meet me in committing to be different. So there's a lot to think about.

On top of which she's angry that I'm making this Offer now, when she went through considerable agony to reach the decision to give up on the marriage because my progress on what wasn't working was too slow. She's angry both because she went through hell to try to get from me what I've now packaged together after she gave up, and because she had finally reached a decision to move on and now she's back in the what-to-do-about-Laird soup. Ugh!

Ironically (would you care for a glass of wine?), it took my losing her to crystallize:

o  What the partnership means to me.
o  What I'm willing to give up to make it work better.
o  My willingness to make my relationship with Ma'ikwe central in my life.
o  The work I need to do to get a grip on self-esteem issues (that my worth is not the same as my productivity) and the ways in which I undercut critical feedback (mainly through the crafty device of beating myself up).
o   The need for both of us to quit finding excuses to not say hard things to each other.

• • •

Today is the final day of the Ecovillage Education training at DR. We'll do an extensive heart-centered circle process involving every student, plus Ma'ikwe and me. In turn each person will offer a self-reflection about what the last 37 days have meant to them, and then receive reflections from everyone else in the room. 

In the afternoon there will be a graduation ceremony that includes brief video clips of student interviews when they first arrived, paired with another interview from the last few days. Then the fledglings leave the nest.

Starting tomorrow, Ma'ikwe and I will no longer have the excuse of teaching the course to spend regular time together. The many other things in our lives—that have been mostly held off the past five weeks—will flood back in to claim our attention. It will be up to us to choose to spend time together, or to let the new bridge languish, unused.

Today, I'm standing on that bridge, observing the chasm beneath me, the gulf that separates our hearts, wondering what my ex-spouse will choose. I am still breathing.

Bombs Bursting in Air

Today is a national holiday, celebrating the 237th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. While there won't be mail service and we can expect more noise and bursts of bright light in the night sky than usual, my attention is mainly focused on my marriage and a 37-day educational adventure that starts tomorrow, for which I'm serving as Ma'ikwe's main assistant on the teaching side.

Tomorrow starts the Ecovillage Education course at Dancing Rabbit. We have 10 students (which was the magic number that we'd established in January as our must-have minimum to produce the course; below that the budget doesn't work), including six from the US (Josi, Ted, David, Natalia, Erin, and Fiona) and one each from Canada (Miguel), South Korea (Myung), India (Manasi), and Australia (Marita). 

[Alliterative aside: Interestingly, the last member of the matriculation pool to drop out (because he was unable to manifest the money) was Medoune, a male from Senegal—which mentioning makes possible the metaphysical observation that we have mainly been a magnet for foreign students whose monikers begin with "M." What do you suppose it might mean? Meditating on this for a moment, my mischievous mind suggests a mystical connection between the year (2013) and M being the 13th letter in the alphabet. Mmm, maybe.]

For Ma'ikwe this is big: she has dreamed of doing the course at Dancing Rabbit ever since she joined in 2008 (right on the heels of her participation as a member of the four-person organizing and teaching team in Albuquerque that first delivered the full Global Ecovillage Network's Ecovillage Design Education curriculum in the United States).

While we tried to get this going last summer, we only had four students register by late May and reluctantly we had to cancel the course. This year we made it!

Understandably, in the last week both Ma'ikwe and I have been devoting an increasing fraction of our attention to preparations for the course. While exciting, working out last-minute details has also been frictional, exposing ongoing concerns Ma'ikwe has with me as her partner.

In particular, I failed to meet deadlines she set for when teachers were asked to turn in course outlines and handouts. By not respecting her guidelines I squeezed the time she had available to review materials and make adjustments. She was not happy. Instead of the final prep week being a buoyant time for us a teaching couple, Ma'ikwe was experiencing me as a sea anchor. 

While that wasn't good, it got worse. After we got snarky with each other about my being disrespectful about deadlines, another challenging pattern of mine emerged. Here's how Ma'ikwe describes it:

M: "I don't like that you did X."
L: (hears X plus mentally adds on top of X "she thinks I'm not good enough" = L experiences M's feedback as a much bigger problem than just X; L's sincere attempt to reflect back feels exaggerated or overamped or universalized to M and sounds something like): "You just said you hate working with me," or "You're saying I never do it right," or some other globalized catastrophe.
M: "That's not what I said."
L: "That's what it sounded like. I think that's what you meant."
M: Grrrr... (feels discouraged to bring anything up)

On the one hand, this is an unfortunately accurate description of the pattern (because this isn't a helpful thing that I do). On the other hand, it's a fortunately accurate description (because we can agree on what's happening and because it excited our therapist when she heard about it).

On the conscious level, the good thing I think I'm doing is being diligent about not dismissing critical feedback just because it's uncomfortable. Instead, I tend to dive in and explore how bad it can be. After a time (which used to be days, but with Ma'ikwe's help has now more commonly been shortened to hours, or even minutes), I emerge from the dark side of the moon with a sense of what I can own and what I can do about it. Mind you, I'm not saying I'm always brilliant at this; just that I always come back into the light.

However, even if you agree that there may be a useful side to my pattern (and maybe you don't), there is also an unhelpful side which Ma'ikwe's generic dialog above captures pretty well: my reactivity and exaggerated responses tend to undercut a person's willingness to give me feedback (why bother if I'm just going distort it and use it as a flail?). And when that person is my wife, it's a real problem. 

Essentially, I have a deep groove within me that automatically translates non-trivial feedback into "I'm not good enough." Having been in the presence of this pattern for seven years now, Ma'ikwe has learned to be careful about playing her cards when it comes to giving me feedback. It takes a build-up of steam to trigger her pressure relief valve, which point was reached last Saturday. Then, once the valve has been opened, all kinds of stuff comes spewing out. 

While I experienced this cascade of problems as overwhelming evidence of my unworthiness, our therapist (who we saw on Tuesday) heard something else that totally took me by surprise. She heard Ma'ikwe's complaints as a request for more of me, rather than pushing me away and judging me as unworthy. Wow! I never saw that coming. 

While it's still possible that Ma'ikwe may decide I'm not worth the effort, she's continuing to give me a chance to make meaningful progress on this debilitating pattern. Part of that work will be done by me alone; part will be done by my working with our therapist; and part will be done together (with and without the therapist).

As we're about to embark on a 37-day journey together as teachers and partners, Ma'ikwe painted this picture for me of the request that underlays the anguish in her critical feedback:

What I want more of is the guy I have fun with, and the ways you contribute to my life, whether that is getting projects done, sex, or your simple presence. I want more of our really positive creative juice in teaching and contributing to the world. I also want a deeper sense that we are in our lives together, rather than operating mostly in separate domains and then coming back and reporting on our lives out there. I want more of a sense of making decisions together, and just having more time together period. 

While I doubt I could have ever found my way to that translation on my own, it's enormously helpful for me to hold onto as a buoy in stormy seas. It's the message I want to rely on as my mantra whenever there are bombs bursting in air—even if I'm the one who lit the fuse.

I don't expect there to be anything dull about the next 37 days.

Not Getting Stepped on During the Dance of Intimacy

I recently spent a couple hours doing couples counseling with my wife (in this case, we were giving advice rather receiving it), and we spent most of the time unpacking a fresh, representative example of how things go off the rails for this couple. It was both illuminating and poignant in that you could easily follow how each person came to the same dynamic with different perspectives that compounded their challenge in navigating a tender moment well.

While it remains to be seen how well our session provided the players with sufficient insight and hope that they'll be able to more productively handle the next flare up—and there is always a next flare up—rather than sliding back into the unproductive pattern that motivated them to ask for help in the first place, I want to devote today's blog to laying out their story, as an excellent cautionary tale of how tangled and hurtful these tough moments can get—despite deep love and both players intending well!

Let's call our couple Pat & Chris. Pat has self-esteem issues and a tendency toward jealousy and feeling neglected when Chris spends time with others. Pat also feels inarticulate and less powerful in conversation with Chris.

Going the other way, Chris was raised to be afraid of conflict (bad things happened at home when Chris' parents fought) and has been doing considerable personal work to better recognize and articulate feelings—which is something Chris has never been all that great at, and Pat is encouraging Chris to work on. On top of this, Chris also has self-esteem issues and often feels that whatever they offer is not enough; that criticism is much more likely than praise. While Chris is aware that they have more personal work to do, they're starved for recognition for what they've accomplished and for the effort they're putting in.

With this background (I'm simplifying, but it's already sufficiently complicated for this story), here's the scene: Chris has been working at the office during the morning, and completes a major piece of work. Hurray! Chris takes some time off in the afternoon to relax and then comes home to Pat later in the afternoon, hoping to go out to dinner and celebrate. Chris is in a good space, yet walks in the door to find that Pat is upset. Pat is aware that Chris was spending time with someone else in the afternoon and has been stewing about why Chris didn't come straight home.

At first (remember, this is a tune they've danced to many times before), Chris responds pretty well. Setting aside the agenda of celebration, Chris hangs in there to listen to Pat's upset, recognizing how Pat might feel less special when Chris didn't bring the joy directly home. This wasn't easy for Chris—who was struggling to keep breathing in the unsafe world of high emotions and thought they were taking Pat into account in the invitation to go out for dinner. For all of that things started moving in a productive trajectory and Pat was responding positively to Chris' reassuring presence. Then all hell broke loose.

Chris' story is that Pat often prefers some private time to process a meltdown and re-center before engaging socially on more solid footing. With the idea that bringing home the food might work better than eating out and that it would take about 45 minutes to place the order and collect the food, Chris proposed to run this errand while Pat waited at home. This would simultaneously allow Pat the opportunity for some down time, and Chris could accept an invitation to have a celebratory beer with a friend (of the opposite sex) while the food was getting prepared.

While Chris thought they were offering a solution that could work for everyone, Pat was flabbergasted. How could Chris be so dense as to think that what was called for in response to Pat's voicing fears about not being wanted was to immediately propose to spend happy time with someone else? Duh! Pat felt that Chris just didn't get it, and it completely uprooted the tender shoots of healing that had sprouted during the first part of the conversation. Pat was in severe distress and felt hopeless.

In turn, Chris was devastated that all the work done to listen lovingly to Pat's distress had counted for nothing. All the good faith efforts made by Chris to balance what everyone wanted were turned into evidence of Chris' perfidy. By what sinister alchemy had that happened? Why do these conversations always go south?

This Way to the Egress
Trapped in the Not-So-Fun House of distorted mirrors, neither Pat nor Chris could find the exit. Luckily, Ma'ikwe and I had ideas.

—Don't project, ask
In the future, we encouraged Chris to ask Pat what they want in the moment (when looking for assurance). If Pat isn't sure (which will happen some of the time), Chris can make suggestions, trying to be as flexible as possible with Pat's answers. Chris fell into a trap by projecting what Pat would want. While this can work well if the projection is accurate, it was disastrous in the incident above.

—Speak from the heart, not the head
One of the delicacies of the exchange outlined above was that Pat reported that Chris had never apologized for their insensitive suggestion to have the celebratory beer while leaving Pat at home. Yet Chris thought they had apologized. Oops! When we carefully dismantled this bomb, it amounted to Chris doing the best they could in an uncomfortable situation, and Pat never feeling that Chris had reached across the gulf between them at the heart level. Chris had acknowledged that Pat was unhappy with what Chris had done, yet hadn't demonstrated to Pat's satisfaction that Chris had understood the impact it had on Pat.

This is a key issue in conflict work, making sure that all the stories and feelings have been accurately understood (not necessarily agreed with) by all the players before moving on to problem solving. There is a tendency—all the more common when people are uncomfortable with distress and want to get through it as quickly as possible—to simply assume that if you've given the other person air time and have heard their words, that they'll feel heard. It doesn't work that way. Reflect back the essence of what they shared and then ask if they feel heard, If they report no joy, do not pass Go and do not attempt to collect $200.

—Focus on relationship, not truth
In the conversation with the four of us (Pat, Chris, Ma'ikwe and me) it became apparent that Chris was focused on fairness; on not being taken advantage of. Ma'ikwe & I made the point that they'd be better off if their primary focus was on relationship first, making sure that neither proceeded with proposals (or demands) sooner than attending to reflecting accurately what each person's experience had been. Agreements that are pushed on people ahead of hearing at this foundational level tend to be brittle and not well followed.

Further, truth is relative. It's not at all uncommon for two stories of the same event to be wildly divergent, yet each advocate believes fervently in the veracity of their version. If you insist that yours prevails, this will undercut relationship, diminish trust, and ultimately be a hollow victory, confounding resolution. When relationships are precious, make sure you keep foremost in mind what the impact of your actions will be on your connections. This is not about selling out or soft-pedaling upset; it's about making sure you listen as fully and as deeply as you want to be heard. Sometimes there can be tussle over who leads and who follows, but that's not the key. What matters most is that everyone gets a turn and that no one is dancing without a partner.

• • •

While learning new steps always involves a certain amount of awkward self-consciousness, it's refreshing to hope that you can still pirouette with an old partner while finally learning how to miss each other's instep on the downbeat.