Storming on Bastille Day

Today is an omen-filled day of mixed meanings. Even as the sky is broody (we had lightning and thunder bumpers around midnight last night, with a strong chance of more this evening), so am I.

Two years ago on this day Ma'ikwe asked me for a divorce I didn't want. While I worked hard to get another chance—which she gave me several weeks later—I remember two years ago as a devastatingly difficult time. 

Then things got a lot better. I moved in with Ma'ikwe in November 2013 and we felt solid enough about our reinvigorated marriage to conduct a recommitment ceremony, where we renewed our wedding vows. We purposefully chose to do that on this day a year ago, in an attempt to redirect and reclaim the Shiva energy of 2013. In the context of this ritual I also released my 40-year membership at Sandhill, going all in on my marriage.

Then, last February, Ma'ikwe reversed directions and decided she wanted out again—which decision she has stuck with. Suddenly I had lost my marriage (again) and was unsure of where my home was. In June I left northeast Missouri after 41 years to try to reinvent myself in North Carolina. In the short time I have been here, many good things have happened to me, with two standing out in particular: a) I am off to a promising start in trying to establish the nucleus of a community with my housemates, María Stawsky and Joe Cole; and b) I have found love with an old college classmate, Susan Anderson, based on the seed of an attraction that was first planted 45 years ago and which has turned out, surprisingly, to be not only viable, but robust.

So today is a day of reflection. In the last two years July 14 has represented both a nadir and a zenith with a partner who is no longer my partner. And today I am joyously with a new partner in a new home (though, notably, the two are not in the same location—which means that integrative work remains), neither of which I suspected I'd be in the market for half a year ago. What a roller coaster!

What Does the Mother Say?
I figure this reflective moment is a perfect opportunity to consult divination. Thus, I have drawn three Tarot cards from the Motherpeace deck:

1. What is the predominant theme I need to pay attention to right now?
—Priestess of Swords, reversed 

 

The mind at work, a channeling of wisdom. This is feminine knowing from a widow (Susan?). The motif of this card is from the North, an Arctic landscape (Susan lives in Duluth MN). The priestess is a thinker and probably a writer (me?). Thought flows through her like water or light. The owl represents healing and the power of thoughts to "take flight." She draws power from the moon. She has a quiet psyche, allowing her to know the minds of all those around her. Thus, she is able to imagine solutions that others miss.

This card suggest a contemplative, introspective approach. You may be experiencing a separation from your lover (only 1250 miles!) and it's a propitious time to think and write (which I reckon I'm doing right now). Reversed, the card suggests relying not solely on critical judgment; trust the heart.

2. What is the undercurrent that I need to bring into my consciousness?
—Six of Cups, mostly upright 
 
 

Sixes in general are about exuberance and triumph. Of cups, it is riding a wave of orgasmic energy. This is about celebrating having caught the wave just right and luxuriating in the resultant joy. As the card was not fully upright, there is some swaying in the waves, letting the pulsing current toss you around.

3. What do I need to pay attention to going forward?
—Priestess of Cups, rotated 90 degrees to the right

 

This is all about feelings, desires, and dreams. She represents the soul, mediating between the spirit world and daily events. The priestess is an enchantress who has secreted herself in elusive, sacred islands. In her realm of power she is stronger than masculine, hero energy.

This card suggests focusing within and giving your imagination free rein. Your emotions are core, your feelings and desires central. Rotated to the right, the card is progressive, leading into divine inspiration. Something new and powerful will emerge if you let it.

• • •

If have drawn positive cards for my new relationship and the grip of this day on my heart has eased.

As I type this the sun is shining. Maybe the energy associated with the day is settling down. Maybe I've experienced enough break up and celebration of union on July 14 (mirroring exactly what happened in Paris July 14, 1789—the storming of the Bastille, marking the determination of the Third Estate to have a constitutional government instead of a monarchy—followed by what happened in Paris July 14, 1790—a celebration of unity of the French people.

Maybe next year I will experience no storming on July 14.

Marriage Aftermath

Have you ever pondered the oddness of the term, "aftermath"?

I reckon you can conceive of it as what happens after you've totted up the pluses and minuses of a situation—which is a tender calculation I've just been going through with Ma'ikwe, after she announced eight days ago that our marriage was done.

As you might imagine, Ma'ikwe went through her own calculus in determining whether it was time to move on—and I believe she did this carefully and with sensitivity. While I'm not happy with her conclusion, I fully believe in her right to make this call. Good things don't happen from someone staying longer than they think is good, say because of guilt, obligation, or pity.

After I rode the first waves of emotional response on my own (and with the support of friends; I got a lot of email), Ma'ikwe and I began an email exchange that has been invaluable to me—which, ironically, showcased just how good our relationship can be—where we each got to explain how we related to events of the last month and the final sequence that led to the demise of our partnership. This was important because, right up until the end, I was viewing our challenging times as difficult, yet constructive—while Ma'ikwe was convincing herself that it was time to pull the plug. While painful, it was instructive to plumb the information buried in the gap between our perceptions.

I was grateful that Ma'ikwe was willing to frame the larger picture of her frustration and analysis with me, and to take the time to point out how my behaviors didn't work for her. After four days of this back-and-forth I was able to write:

As I sit with what you’ve experienced as my criticality, my narcissism, my resistance to your ideas, my inability to provide empathy when you're struggling, my failure to follow through on commitments, my inability to honor requests that matter a lot to you, and my competitive one-upmanship it’s a fairly grim picture, and makes me wonder at the folly (even irresponsibility) of presuming that I’m capable of being anyone’s partner. Looked at from this perspective, I’m humbled that you hung in there with me as long as you did. Thank you. Your loving me has been a precious gift.

Ma'ikwe had a complex response to this. On the one hand, it showed I was hearing what she was complaining about, and she wholeheartedly endorsed the idea of my continuing to do personal work in an attempt to address these behaviors.

On the other hand, she encouraged me to soften what I did with her rejection because she was only saying that I was a poor partner for her. Well, this is tricky ground to navigate with sure footing. While Ma'ikwe and I agree that we both could have been better partners, I think it's dangerous for me to slough off responsibility for what went awry (laying it at her feet instead). Better, I think, is to try to own all that I can and see what I can do with it. (Ma'ikwe will have her own version of this, but that's her business.) So I'm facing a large hill to climb.

While there are ways in which it's only possible to work on intimacy dynamics in an intimate relationship (and I'm not seeing a clear pathway to that given all the barnacles on my hull), I am hopeful that most of Ma'ikwe's issues are tractable in the context of friendships and relationships with clients—both of which I have in abundance. So I'm holding onto the idea that I can continue my work without necessarily putting another partner at risk.

I intuit that my main challenge will be remaining open for engagement, and not playing it safe. It's the work I need to address after doing the math. We'll see how it goes.

Divorce 2.0

Ma’ikwe told me Friday evening that she wants a divorce. This is the second time I've had experience in the last 19 months and I didn't enjoy hearing it any more the second time. It's like getting kicked in the stomach.

One of my first thoughts was how clearly this development points out that I am only in control of my part of the partnership, and the commitments I make do not bind her. While I readily agree that we've had to handle some tough challenges on the way to death do us part, I've never found divorce an attractive choice. Yet Ma'ikwe can opt out—and has done so twice—regardless of where my heat is on the matter.

Here are some high and low watermarks of our relationship:
Oct 29, 2005             We became lovers
Nov 18, 2005            We decided to get married
April 21, 2007           We got married in a blow-out four-day wedding in Albuquerque
July 11, 2008             Ma'ikwe moved to Dancing Rabbit 
spring 2009               Ma'ikwe broke ground to start building Moon Lodge
2010                          Ma'ikwe discovered she has Lyme disease and had a debilitating year (a lot of pain and a lot of bed rest)
2012                          Ma'ikwe relapsed with Lyme and had another debilitating year
Feb 11, 2013             We had our first appointment with Kathy, our couples therapist, which continued for the next two years
July 14, 2013            Ma'ikwe announced that she wanted a divorce
Aug 26, 2013            Ma'kiwe agreed to try the marraige again
Nov 29, 2013            I moved out of Sandhill and started living in Moon Lodge with Ma'ikwe
July 14, 2014            We held a recommitment ceremony for our marriage
Oct 3, 2014               I strained my lower back lifting heavy boxes improperly
Oct, 2014-Jan 2015   I had restricted mobility (with a lot of bed rest) as I recovered from back pain
Feb 6, 2015               Ma'ikwe announced that she wanted a divorce

Our marriage has enjoyed many sublime and beautiful moments, and it's also been a gut-wrenching emotional roller coaster.

In this latest round of turmoil, Ma'ikwe first told me that she was again frustrated to the point of thinking about ending the relationship three weeks ago. Having reserved time with our therapist for Feb 3 (the day before I left on a four-week trip) I had understood we were waiting to work on her concerns with Kathy's help—which has frequently been a good idea. After one 90-minute appointment last Tuesday, Kathy was able to make another session available to us the same day. In trying to decide how best to use that opportunity I said my highest priority was using the time to give the best chance for us working through the issues that had brought Ma'ikwe to the brink again. 

With that request on the table, Ma'ikwe decided to meet with Kathy alone. While I don't know what they discussed in the second session, three days later Ma'ikwe announced that she was done. In retrospect, I reckon by the time we got to Kathy I was essentially a dead man walking and just didn't know it yet. 

I outlined in my previous blog some of the concerns that have been troubling Ma'ikwe lately and it all unraveled incredibly fast. The thing that hurts the most is that there was never much of an opportunity for me to address Ma'ikwe's concerns between her articulation of the issues and her unilateral decision to end it all.

I reckon staying with me represented too much slog for too little hope; she weary of trying to make it work and just needed to move on. 

One interesting pattern I noticed is that both times Ma'ikwe got to clarity about wanting a divorce, the sequence started right after one of us came out of a long stretch of compromised health, where the person in recovery wasn't capable of doing serious relationship work. Both times I was caught off-guard by the build-up of negativity and critical analysis. I don't know if that's merely a coincidence or a smoking gun.

When weathering the localized storm of emotional turmoil that was triggered for me by Ma'ikwe's first decision to end the relationship in July 2013, I got enormous help from EMDR therapy with Kathy, which has permanently helped me be less reactive. This benefit, fortunately, is still available to me today (thank god) and helped both to stay afloat with my feelings and to not spiral down into a very dark, and blaming place. I know Ma'ikwe has been doing the best she can and I know that I will not die.

Oddly, it has also helped that I'm currently reading Wyvern (a semi-obscure 1988 novel by A A Attanasio). It contains a fantastical exploration of being alone while at the same time being in relation to spirit, in relation to other humans, and to the universe. The protagonist is an illegitimate blond blue-eyed boy of mixed Dutch/aboriginal stock who is raised as a sorcerer (or soul catcher) in the jungles of Borneo, and the book is full of cosmological and existential questions as explored through the eyes of “primitive” culture. This story is powerful medicine for me right now.

The bottom line is that Ma’ikwe no longer saw her future as fruitful with me and acted decisively to move on. Loving her, I support her getting what she wants—even if at the extreme of leaving me.

Having gone through this particular hell once already, it’s not so devastating the second time. I know I'll survive. Though I've been rejected, I'm not beating myself up.

Yet whither now? Fifteen months ago I've walked away from my community as part of my recommitment to the marriage. Can I go back? Is that what I want? Is that good for Sandhill? I don't know. I was mainly at DR to be with Ma'ikwe; now what?

Ma'ikwe and I have to navigate our professional relationships moving forward and to what extent, if any, it makes sense to try to work together. It's confusing for me to know how much I can trust her commitments at this point.

I went all-in on my relationship with Ma'ikwe, and still got rejected. While not an ending I was looking for, I knew at the time that it wasn't a guarantee and I don't regret the attempt. I am not bitter.

In addition to losing my wife, I'm losing my best friend—the person I'd been sharing my daily observations with. This is highly disrupting and I have no idea how I'm going to replace the comfort and groundedness that I derive from that level of subtle sharing.

Right now there's a large hole in my heart and it will take some time to figure out what it all means and how to adapt to my suddenly wifeless life.

Giving Thanks

I know that Thanksgiving is tomorrow, but I'm going to start early. 

I'm chugging inbound on the eastbound Southwest Chief, having boarded in the wee hours of Tuesday in Kingman AZ. I was awakened in the pre-dawn of eastern KS this morning as they stuffed the empty seats with heading-home-for-the-holidays passengers at Topeka and Lawrence. That means I have four hours until I'll be collected at the Art Deco Amtrak depot in La Plata MO—just enough time to jot down (well, peck down) all that I'm thankful for in the final hours of my four-week road trip.

—Home 
I'm thankful for the home that I am returning to. On a basic level, homelessness is a serious societal ill, symptomatic of the inevitable consequences of our winners-and-losers competitive culture. As a road warrior who travels mainly by train, I get to see more than my share of the not-so-pretty sides of cities and the people for whom the American dream has become a nightmare. I was raised with plenty of privilege and advantage and I've been able to parlay those into a life that works pretty well.

On a deeper level, home is more than just a roof over my head: a) it's a place on Earth where I have sunk deep roots, and where I have found a strong sense of Spirit, even though I didn't know I was looking for it; b) it's a community where I have established deep personal connections with fellow travelers in the social change business; and c) it's served as a living foundation from which I operate as a cooperative process consultant—my work is grounded in the reality of my life experience much more than any books I've read or workshops I've attended.

In many ways, connection to place has crept up on me. It was not the way I was raised, and I stumbled upon its preciousness as the years went by and I accreted in my psyche the natural rhythms of my community's farm in northeast Missouri as season followed season, year after year. This is a profound gift that I discovered in spite of my slash and burn cultural conditioning.

—Wife
I'm thankful for my intimate partner, who loves me profoundly and pushes us to be all that we can be—on stage as public figures, on the couch, at the stove, and in the bedroom. (There's a reason that the kitchen sink is a metaphor for everything—and the goddess only knows we've spent our share of time there, talking about how to build it, how to get water to it, and how frequently to clean the dishes. There's an amazing amount of domestic dynamics that revolve around the kitchen sink.) 

We have been a couple for eight years now, and we've worked our love harder in our eighth year than in any of the previous seven. For one thing, most of this past year we've been doing couples counseling, getting help looking at the parts we've rather not see. I'm telling you, a good marriage (and why settle for anything less?) is not for the feint of heart, and our relationship is a work in progress if there ever was one. All together, I feel blessed and I return home eager to begin our grand experiment in maintaining a single household for the first time.

—Paid Work That Aligns with My Values
I'm thankful for my parents who instilled in me a strong sense of self—as a person who could be all that he could be. While my choices confused my mother and confounded my father (who was hoping he was raising a midshipman of industry who would grow up to be a captain), I've found my place in a life centered around community with a minimal amount of wandering in the wilderness. It was from my upbringing that I learned to be risk tolerant, from which I derived the courage to insist that I make a living from activities that embodied my values and which satisfied my soul, not just my wallet.

Whenever I encounter people who are weary of their jobs, or peers who turn longingly toward retirement, I realize how fortunate I have been. I still get up each day looking forward to speaking at the next conference, facilitating the next thorny meeting, or crafting the next report. People pay me to do what I love and are happy with the bargain. Is that a good life, or what?

—Service Work That Aligns with My Growth Path
I'm thankful for my work in a second way also. More than being consonant with my values, my work is also the way I try to be a social change agent. Rather than heart work that I do on the side as a volunteer, as a community builder (though I know my way around a hammer and trowel, I mean this more in the sense of social sustainability than bricks and mortar) I've made it my business to place the creation of cooperative culture at the very center of my life. And the way I know that's a good choice for me is that my work regularly results in my getting up close and personal with my blind spots and human frailties—often in a spectacularly public way! I figure that when your service path coincides with your growth path it's a cosmic affirmation.

—Living in Interesting Times
I'm thankful for all the amazing opportunities there exist for doing good in the world at this time of flux. While today's global reality (peak oil, climate change, population pressures on water supplies, economic instability) translates into a general malaise of uncertainty and anxiety—and that's no fun, especially for those craving stability—it also creates openings for reexamination and experimentation where there were few before. We live in a time that's rife with possibilities. Though all seeds won't sprout and some fields will be overtaken by weeds, I find it an exhilarating time in which to be cultivating new culture.

—Friends
I'm thankful for the amazing wealth of people who know and care about me, and who open up their hearts for me to be there for them in return. As John Donne succinctly pointed out four centuries ago, no man is an island, and I am buoyed by the archipelago of my myriad close relationships. This was poignantly brought home to me in July when Ma'ikwe was ready to throw in the towel on our marriage, and I struggled to come to grips with what my life would be like with the center blown out of it. Slowly, I realized that I would be fine. While my relationship with Ma'ikwe remains precious to me, I had a good life before her and all of the elements of that would remain if she left. I remembered that I am not an island and that even in emotional free fall I could expect my friends to be there to help break my fall.

—Grown Children
I'm thankful for my two adult children, Ceilee and Jo, who both take responsibility for their own happiness and for their commitments. They know how to work hard, and how to take into account how their behavior affects those around them. Most of all, I'm thankful that we love each other, that we freely acknowledge that love, that we make time for one another, and that we enjoy each other's company. No sooner does one visit end than I am looking forward to the next.

—Family
I'm thankful for my four siblings, all of whom cultivate the scared garden of familial relations. Though we don't see each other often, we are there at times of need and celebration. Two months ago I visited my youngest sister in Toronto. Two months from now I'll see my brother in Fairhope AL. Blood ties are the long waves of relationship, where the currents are deepest and steadiest. This is not so much about a mind meld or an alignment of values. Rather, it's about a common history and the shared water of our earliest memories. It's recognizing and honoring bonds that is operates on a visceral level. I am thankful that we all know that.

—Wholesome Food
I'm thankful for living in a community that has a core commitment to growing and processing its own food. It's not possible to eat any better than we do. Though I did not move to community because of food, it turns out that I love working with food and didn't know it! I am grateful that my community has a spiritual connection to raising and consuming organic food. It is integral to our symbiotic connection to our land, which we interact with on a daily basis. We feed our land and it feeds us, body and soul.

—Health
I'm thankful for a body and mind that still work pretty good at 64—which is a good thing given all that I ask of them. The older I get, the more I've lost friends and acquaintances who have had their health (or luck) run out. Increasingly, these people are younger than me and I have occasion to be thankful for the good cards I have been dealt. It is up to me to honor that gift by playing them well.

—Books
I'm thankful for being able to read and for the existence of more good pieces of writing than I will ever be able to get to in one lifetime. I'll never run out of good material to read, and I still buy books faster than I read them. Some of this is the chance to be exposed to new thinking. Some is enjoyment of a well-crafted story. Some is appreciation of word crafting (which is not the same thing as a good plot—J K Rowling is a terrific story teller, but a wooden wordsmith; Charles Dickens was superb at both; Ambrose Bierce was so trenchant and clever that he could make a dictionary good reading).

—Blogging
I'm thankful for the excuse to pause every three days and reflect on what's happening around me, and for the chance to practice my craft as a writer (striving ever to be more like Bierce, though perhaps less acerbic). I have tried at various times in my life to maintain a journal, but was never able to manifest sufficient discipline until I began this blog six years ago. While I have sometimes been successful with an epistolary approximation (when investing in a particular relationship at a distance), these would invariably peter out after some months.

In this format I have chanced upon just the right mix of public service and private inquiry to sustain my interest. Although my primary inspiration for starting this blog was public service, it's proven to be such a personal benefit that I would probably continue it even if no one read it—it's been that much fun and helpful in clarifying my thinking. Today, if someone casually asks how I've been, I can generally swamp their boat by simply giving them the URL to this blog.

—Coffee
Finally, I'm thankful for my favorite way to start the day (other than sex). I prefer French roast, brewed strong enough to put hair on your forehead, balanced with a generous glug of half and half, which neutralizes the acid while preserving the essential bitterness that I crave. It's my only non-negotiable when clients hire me to work with their group.

Where there is life there is coffee
Where there is coffee there is life
We all worship the brown bean
Body of the God Caffeine

Rebooting My Marriage

Back on July 14 Ma'ikwe booted me out the door as her husband. Today we're rebooting our marriage. It's been an unusual and surprisingly productive six weeks...

After she reached the gut-wrenching decision to end our marriage, it triggered a sequence in which Ma'ikwe started putting our intimate relationship behind her and I entered into an intense examination of how I'd failed the partnership. With nothing to lose, I began the somewhat embarrassing and humbling process of unpacking how I approach relationship, intimacy, and life in general, which, ironically, led to some wonderful exchanges with Ma'ikwe (of the kind that she'd despaired of experiencing with me) and ultimately to my inviting her July 26 to try again. A month later she conditionally accepted my offer (which we cleverly refer to as the Offer).

Mind you, this was not an invitation to go back to what we'd been doing; it was not an attempt to save the marriage. Rather, we'll be starting over. We will begin with new assumptions:
o  That we'll live in a single household that we'll jointly manage.
o  That I'll leave Sandhill, my home of 39 years, and move in with Ma'ikwe.
o  That Ma'ikwe will not travel as much as she used to (conserving her energy for Lyme recovery) and I'll negotiate with her my travel commitments to protect our time together.
o  I'll phase out of my administrative role with FIC, and devote more time to writing (which requires no travel).
o  I'll place my relationship with Ma'ikwe ahead of other major commitments (rather than rotate through them as I've been doing).
o  I'll ask for what I want.
o  She'll tell me what's not working.
o  We'll both blow on the coals of our sexual relationship.
o  I'll work on my reactivity to criticism and my self-esteem as an intimate partner.
o  She'll take more pleasure in my company.
o  I'll tackle my issue of overcommitment. 
o  She'll share more regularly with me (or at least earlier in her process) what's she's thinking about.

In short, we're committing to being more present, more alive, and more joyous.

To be sure, this is a lot of commitment, and we're making the attempt without any certainty of success. (That's why Ma'ikwe's acceptance of the Offer was conditional.) Essentially, we're acting on intuition. I reached clarity July 26; for Ma'ikwe it took an extra month.

While there are all manner of reasons why this is a stupid idea, we're doing it anyway. Mainly because it would hurt too much to not know if we could make it work.

There have always been ways in which our partnership has been positive for each of us individually (we wouldn't have lasted nearly eight years together if it had been all dross and no gold). Yet more than that, there have been ways in which our being together has been synergistically great—where we have effected a quality of being that has inspired others and occasionally manifests transformative magic.

We are under no illusion that this will be simple, or non-tumultuous. But we think it can be great, and that's worth reaching for. It is an act of love.

Sometime after Thanksgiving, I will begin a year's leave of absence from Sandhill. I'll move in with Ma'ikwe at Dancing Rabbit, and we'll see what we can create from scratch(ing an itch). If we fail, at least we will have tried. If we succeed, then we will have pulled the baby out of the bath water after having pulled the plug—just as the whirlpool was forming over the drain. Whew!

If we succeed, it will give us an opportunity to formally recommit to one another based on our relationship having died and been reborn. I fervently hope to have the occasion to design that ceremony.

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.

It Is Finished

About an hour ago Ma'ikwe told me she was done. Our marriage is over. 

It was a day I'd hoped to never experience. Ma'ikwe was close to ending it this winter, but stepped back from the brink when she had an initial positive response to our doing couples counseling. Things took a bad turn again in June, and this time we were unable to recover.

While my head knows that I'll survive this, my heart can't imagine it. Right now I feel broken and can hardly believe that I'll ever smile again—much less find the courage (or temerity) to consider trying another intimate relationship. I gave all I had to this partnership and, in the end, it simply wasn't enough. 

I loved Ma'ikwe as deeply as anyone I've ever known, and it wasn't enough. She has made her choice and I wish her the vibrant and joyous future she aspires to and deserves. It just won't be a future with me.

I took my wedding ring off this evening and placed it on the shelf in my bedroom where I keep my memories. Tonight, that's all I have left.

Lilly in the Field

Life out of balance,
Carbon won't you please come home?
Grow trees; don't burn them.
—Laird's Sequestration Haiku (a somewhat obscure category)

I had a phone call yesterday with an old friend, Kip Lilly... We met our first year at Carleton College in the fall of 1967, where, in the way of clever freshman everywhere, we hung on him the moniker Young Eli—after the founder of the Indiana-based pharmaceutical conglomerate, with whom he shared a last name. Of course, neither he nor I are quite so young any more, but I reckon he'll always be younger than the guy with "Eli Lilly" on his birth certificate.

I had last seen (or even had a conversation) with Kip almost six years ago, when he attended Ma'ikwe's and my wedding (April 2007). He was one of about 10 college friends who attended, which was an impressive showing given that our connections were 40 years old and our lives had diverged considerably since those halcyon days.

Kip called because another special Carleton friend, Sue Anderson, is a consumer of this blog and had alerted him to my marital struggles. As good friends do, Kip called to see how I was doing. I was touched by his reaching out.

One special quality about my relationship with Kip is that he is every bit as much a word player as I am. Though I don't know how much he writes, you can't listen to him talk for more than a few minutes before you encounter the same kind of convoluted sentence structure—peppered with tortured punctuation, whimsical metaphors, and obscure cultural references—that I am prone to. I had forgotten how much he has been soul mate for me in that regard!

By way of example, his parting shot on yesterday's phone call was that I accept a homework assignment: a haiku on the topic of sequestration. Where does he get this stuff and what does it represent that it's rattling around in his head? Breathing through those existential questions, I reflected on how few people I know who would make such an oddball request (probably a good thing). Of course, being a player myself, I agreed with alacrity, and I led off this blog by turning in my original composition.

While this Lilly in my field can be, at times, pretty far afield, he's nonetheless precious to me.

Though Kip and I were once fairly close (we canoed a lot together in our 20s) and he's been to Sandhill a few of times, we've seen each other rarely in the last three decades and it was amazing how many deep references we were able to call up on demand and weave into our telephonic stroll down memory lane. Though our points of connection had mainly receded below the surface of consciousness through disuse, they remained in place and surprisingly accessible at need. Opening the door to that closet, I am suffused with dusty memories today.

My college years were important to me and formative. It was where I first examined the conservative values of my upbringing and started down the path of inquiry and personal growth work that (apparently) has no end—witness my counseling appointment this afternoon, as I continue my work to strengthen my marriage.

This morning I'm wondering about how the following observations fit into one sensible narrative:

o  I established a number of friendships in my four years of college that were valuable for me at the time and have remained so 40+ years later. Even though the points of contact are much less frequent today, I am invariably able to drop right back into depth and tenderness when with my old college friends. Even more impressive is that there are several people from my Carleton days that hold their friendship with me in high esteem.

o  I figure I've been working toward being a more complete, more aware, and more integrated person my entire adult life. While this pilgrim's progress has not always been linear and there have been plenty of bumps in the road, I have a definite sense of advancement the last 45 years—which makes the strength and steadfastness of my college connections all the more impressive, as these lasting bonds were forged at the front end of my journey, when I offered more relationship potential than accomplishment.

o  One of the central points of connection I have with Ma'ikwe is our dedication to an examined life. While we haven't taken the same paths in pursuing this, there is deep respect for the work we have each done, and we value a willingness to hang in there when we hit a rough patch. This expressly includes recognizing our own reactivity and working emotionally. (I'm not claiming that we always do this well; I'm saying that we recognize the need for it and have made a commitment to try.)

o  For all of our dedication to cultivating the garden of our relationship—which we have been doing for over seven years now, about twice the time I had in college with my friends there—Ma'ikwe and I are nonetheless in serious struggle, with the viability of our marriage in question. 

o  While taking into account the adage that familiarity breeds contempt, and that being a good friend is not the same level of commitment or complexity as being a spouse, I'm still scratching my head about how I manifested such enduring friends from college days—when my personal growth work was just getting started—while stumbling so badly in my marriage with a sophisticated partner and four decades of personal growth work under my belt.

Hmm. This humbling juxtaposition causes me to rethink just how much progress I've made over the years. That's the problem with an examined life: peeking in the mirror can reveal blemishes you'd rather weren't there.

In Defense of Imbalance

For those who have been keeping up with the serial drama of my marriage, Ma'ikwe and I saw a couples counselor Monday and had a positive experience—good enough that we're going back next Tuesday for more. Ma'ikwe has taken a step back from the brink to give this a try and I am very grateful.

To be sure, there remains gobs of work to do, and it will likely be messy, but she's willing to try again, which is a huge energy shift and essential for us to have a chance. Whew!

• • •

OK, that's the news bulletin update. I received an outpouring of sympathetic responses to my previous posting (for which I thank all those who wrote), where I characterized my partnership as being on the edge of a precipice, and I want to say more about what my marriage blogs are—and what they aren't—so people don't have a mistaken idea about what I'm portraying.

For the most part (and this was certainly true of last Sunday's posting) I write about how Ma'ikwe sees me and how those observations land with me. Or, more accurately, I write about how I understand that she sees me. While sometimes that includes complimentary reflections, mostly I focus on what's problematic. This is intentional. In consequence, my depictions are not balanced at all. They are not a balanced description of how Ma'ikwe sees me, nor are they a balanced description of our relationship challenges. 

I don't do this because I enjoy high drama or self-flagellation in public. I do it because:

a) Articulating Ma'ikwe's concerns forces me to be clear about what her issues are. I focus on the problems because that's where the heavy lifting is done, and I don't want to dilute their significance with sugar coating. I have a strong sense of self, and believe in my ability to solve problems and build healthy relationships. In order for that to work well it's important that my aura of self-confidence not become a protective armor that repulses feedback, thus dedicated myself to being transparent about what I hear.

b) Articulating Ma'ikwe's issues (if I do it well) demonstrates that I'm listening and at least have gotten off to a good start on the road to resolution (the point being that if you don't understand accurately what your partner is saying, it seriously undercuts your ability to have a productive response).

c) I am highly suspicious of relying solely on my own judgment in assessing what weight to give criticism of my actions and patterns. By sharing the criticism with a wider audience, I get the benefit of other perspectives on my not-so-great tendencies.




d) Dark corners are less scary when you shine the light on them. By openly admitting how bad issues can be, they become more tractable.

e) It generally works much better if I can prioritize understanding ahead of being understood. I'll still get my chance to say what's bothering me, or the ways in which I think Ma'ikwe criticisms are unfair or off base. First though, let's make sure I've heard them right.
 
f) Even though Ma'ikwe often feels that I hear her criticisms as more extreme than she means them, my aim is to lay them out as they landed with me. If I've overamped it, fine, let's dial it back. In my experience this is a lesser problem than the danger of underplaying the criticism. To be clear, I don't strive for exaggeration—I strive for energetic accuracy (articulating how Ma'ikwe's statements have landed with me). If I've missed the import (blowing it out of proportion), this gives us the chance to make the correction in real time.
 
g) Talking about the ways in which I get into trouble tends to be far more useful to readers than my writing about my relationship successes. Not only does it make me more human, but it's easier for people to connect with me. While I am loathe to make shit up for this purpose, it turns out I don't have to—I get into hot water often enough that I'm sufficiently illuminating and entertaining just reporting on the Best of Potholes as I stumble into them.

h) While it may well be interesting and instructive if I also wrote about my issues with Ma'ikwe (the other side of the story, as it were), I have a standard of not writing critically of others in my blog unless I have their express permission, and that definitely includes my wife (I first articulated this in my April 19, 2010 blog, Writing About My Life, But Not My Wife). While I sometimes choose to intentionally obscure attribution when I want to write about others critically, that is hardly a viable option when talking about my marriage ("I was in a conversation with one of my wives the other day…" would not mask anyone's identity).

i) I believe one of the greatest challenges to personal growth and robust relationships is our inability to welcome and hear accurately critical feedback. By focusing in my blog solely on the ways in which I'm perceived to be contributing to the problem—while resisting the urge to slop tar on others at the same time as a salve to my ego—I am trying to witness my ongoing efforts to handle feedback better.


In Defense of Imbalance
In working through tough issues it is my style to first probe criticisms to understand their underpinnings and the context in which they are experienced. If I'm having a significant reaction to receiving the information (which, luckily, doesn't happen every time, yet is always a possibility), there is a danger of my jumping into this probing step too abruptly—before admitting (either to myself or the other person) how their criticism is landing. This can come across as brittleness in my voice or a sharpness (lack of grace?) to my questions, which can then take on an inquisitional tone. At its worst, I can be flat out defensive, essentially punishing the speaker for their "temerity" in voicing concerns. When this happens the whole exchange goes south in a hurry.

Next I tend to go through a period of catastrophizing, where I imagine the worst and feel through the awful things that may ensue if the analysis is correct and I don't address it. While I don't tend to stay in this dark place for long and it helps me gain perspective on what's at stake and how my behaviors may be inadvertently damaging relationships, it can be awful for Ma'ikwe to witness my transit through this phase, which tends to include double doses of self-incrimination and remorse for bad things, many of which have not happened yet and probably never will. Ma'ikwe, I think, finds this a colossal waste of energy and painful to observe, yet it's part of how I get to center, how I demonstrate that I'm taking criticisms seriously, and how I prepare myself to respond without shying away from touching the tender spots.

Fortunately, Ma'ikwe and I have made considerable progress over the years in navigating this step better together: I indulge less in beating myself up, and move through this phase more quickly (sometimes minutes instead of days); in turn, Ma'ikwe has learned to give me room to go through this, trusting that I'll come out the other end, where we can begin constructive problem solving. 

The keys here are that I know I'm not being balanced, that I take full responsibility for my reactions, and that I then reengage with open ears and an open heart. Essentially, I am reporting here just my end of the work of tending the garden of our marriage. Ma'ikwe has her part in this as well. If she wants to write about that, that's her business.

On Being a Poor Partner

I. Embracing the Past 
We come together both wounded and wise, tentative and sure, enriched by the Fool's taste for the fullness of Life. We offer each other the salt of our tears, the song in our throats, the wrinkles of experience, & an exuberance for Life.

II. Embracing Who We Are
We stretch to see each other as we are, without the illusions of who we'd like the other to be. Our marriage is marked by the passionate and reverent care that comes from loving deeply, not backing away from struggles, and enjoying each other, faults and all.

III. Embracing Community
Our union is rooted in community. We are nurtured by these connections, and commit to nurturing them in return. We commit our marriage to a path of Service in the world and intend our circles of community to be the well from which our work will spring.

IV. Embracing the Magic
We commit to giving our lives to each other, with respect and humor; with curiosity and steadfastness. We commit to living an examined life, working with our bellies and our hands; our heads and our hearts. We draw strength from Spirit and Mystery in times of need. We commit to acting for Good, and believe that we are better together than apart. Above all, we commit to showing up—to being courageous & joyous in the face of the Unknown.

—Ma'ikwe and Laird's Wedding Vows • April 21, 2007

Ma'ikwe and I made these promises to each other in front of 175 friends and family almost 70 months ago in the Sandia Mountains overlooking Albuquerque. It was one of the happiest moments in my life.

Now Ma'ikwe is feeling heart-weary and worn down by the attempt to intertwine her life with mine and she is on the verge of breaking her commitment to the marriage. Standing on this precipice, my heart is on the verge of breaking as well, and I am in anguish. This is a blog I'd hoped to never write.

Tomorrow we are going to see a couples counselor—someone new to us who has been recommended by friends—to try even at this eleventh hour to find hope and reason to continue working on our relationship. If something significant and positive doesn't happen in that hour, I believe Ma'ikwe is ready to end the marriage.

Standing on the edge, looking at the abyss, it seems appropriate to outline what I understand about why Ma'ikwe despairs that I can be a good partner for her. While we've unquestionably both played a role in getting to this unwanted place, and Ma'ikwe has her own culpability for how we got here, in this blog I'm only exploring my side of it; the ways in which Ma'ikwe has helped me to see my shortcomings as an intimate partner…
o  I don't work with feelings the same way she does, and some significant fraction of the time when I'm try to connect with her emotionally she feels pushed away—the exact opposite of what I'm intending. Ma'ikwe has reported that when she's in a state of heightened emotional energy, she prefers to experience it as purely as possible, without contamination of thought. In trying to bridge to her in those moments, I have either made statements or asked questions that have drawn her back into thinking mode and she's repeatedly been frustrated by my lack of sensitivity in this regard. While this articulation is only a week old, it's nonetheless a powerful deterrent for Ma'ikwe when she thinks about staying with me.

o  Our rhythms for sharing are different. Where I can often jump right into intimate sharing (downloading what's been happening for me since we were last together, and my reflections about it) as soon as we're together, Ma'ikwe needs a day or two to synchronize orbits well enough to dock with me. When our visits are less than 48 hours, there's a risk that she won't be ready to share before it's time for the next separation. Not good.

Thus, when we're both in Missouri and alternating between our homes three miles apart, she's come to prefer fewer, larger chunks of time together, in contrast with our typical pattern of my coming over to spend the night at Moon Lodge (her house at Dancing Rabbit) two or three times a week. We have recently been trying to work on this pattern (which was first articulated in December), but hadn't gotten too far along in our experiments before being overtaken by our current crisis.

o  Ma'ikwe feels worn down by my criticalness—not just of her, of everyone, including myself. I have high standards for how things should go and can be outspoken about it when actions fall short of ideals. By virtue of my being largely unguarded with Ma'ikwe—both a blessing and curse in intimacy—she tends to hear more of my frustrations and criticisms than most, and she's tired of it. She often catches me muttering under my breath and wonders if I'm being critical of her. It's been exhausting, even to the point of making her feel unsafe from judgment in her own home.

While I make no apology for having high standards, It's abhorrent to me that I'm driving away the person I love above all others by indulging in an unmindful pattern of speaking critically, a bad habit I picked up unwittingly at my father's knee. I certainly witnessed how hard it was for my mother, and now I've recapitulated my father's error. What a disaster!

o  Ma'ikwe has lost sexual interest in me. To be sure, some of this—perhaps even all of it—may be the debilitating effects of her battle with chronic Lyme disease, but as Ma'ikwe succinctly put it last night, it doesn't matter why, only that it's true. The point is that she's rarely interested in sex any more. Something that once had been vibrant and bonding for us has disappeared.

She trusts her body knowing more than her mind knowing, and her body is telling her that I'm no longer the guy. As I've not lost any ardor for her, this is a poignant point of imbalance.

o  My life is too booked for her. With my marriage as one leg of the table upon which my life is supported, the other three are: a) my home community (Sandhill Farm); b) my work as FIC's main administrator; and c) my group process consulting work. Ma'ikwe finds it too crowded sharing access to me with my other three commitments. The sense I have is that Ma'ikwe wants a partnership where the couple maps out their time together and the rest each partner's interests divvy up what's left—not the other way around.

A couple months ago Ma'ikwe asked me to give up one of the other three legs (probably Sandhill) in order to manifest greater room on my dance card for our marriage. I balked at a "legectomy" without first getting a chance to try meeting her needs without losing a leg. Two weeks ago Ma'ikwe realized her frustrations had grown to the point where she wasn't at all sure that having more time would be enough, and that she was effectively asking me to leave my home of 39 years for the chance to save the marriage, which was an especially heavy card to play.

o  Similar to this last point, yet not the same, is how Ma'ikwe sees my life as too rigid. My commitment to the other three legs predates the marriage and are too longstanding and too immutable for her to feel hope of meaningful shifts in priorities. She wants a life where she can change directions when it suits her (an Enneagram 7) but mine is not set up that way (as an Enneagram 1)—so how can we partner? What might be viewed as bedrock by some—a stable partner with reliable, value-based work—has become a sea anchor for her, tethering her to outmoded interests.

Ma'ikwe is ready to try some new directions in her life and doesn't see where that will leave room for her and I to connect enough to maintain a viable partnership. She no longer wants to travel as much as we did before chronic Lyme started to flare up in fall 2009, and time together on the road had been an important element in our relationship. While she hasn't recovered enough from Lyme to test yet what she'd like her new direction to be and its consequences on our marriage, she's concerned enough about it going poorly that it's another nail in the coffin.

• • •

Despite all of this, I emphatically do not want to lose Ma'ikwe. That said, it makes no sense to try to hold her against her will and if the fire for our marriage goes out in her, then we are done. Fool that I am, I hold out hope that after tomorrow's counseling session there will yet remain a glow in the embers of Spirit and Mystery sufficient for us to blow on and requicken the pulse of our Love. For ours is a partnership worth drinking of down to the bitter dregs, and I'll not count on having another chance this good again.

Being Married in a Different Tradition

Last night I received an email from my daughter Jo that included a JPEG of her and partner, Peter, standing joyously in front of a white wrought-iron gazebo with an arched sign reading, "Little White Wedding Chapel." The text of her mail was pithy:
Hey thought u might care to see this one. No this doesn't mean grandkids.

Hmm. As the subject line of the email was "4/1" I could feel a definite tug on one of my legs. Still, I hedged my bets with this riposte:
I wasn't thinking it did [mean grandkids].

Does it mean you're married though, or just fooling around on April 1? I'm guessing the latter because [if you were actually getting married] it seems highly unlikely that you wouldn't have mentioned it on our phone call the other night.

Mind you, I'm not trying to steer the ship—I'm OK with you being married or not being married—I'm just trying to understand what meaning adheres to the image you just sent me (in case it's something more than an April 1 goof).

This morning I was greeted with this:
Still married even though its not 4/1 anymore. Surprise!!!!! I didn't tell you because I wanted to see which way you would go with the April Fools or not and u have joined the ranks of everyone on the not believing side. [Laird's note: this seemed a bit mean spirited in that I at least acknowledged there was a chance they weren't kidding.] But... the real prank is that it's real. We just decided to do it last week and we didn't invite anyone but Ceilee to be a witness. We got married at the same place he did. But at least I'm telling you about it.

Sigh, I reckon this goes to show that even after they're adults, the capacity of one's children to surprise never wanes.

My reactions to all this are complex (though I suppose that in itself is not surprising):
o I'm happy for my daughter. She's been in a relationship with Peter since fall 2008, she loves him, Peter is a good guy, and the marriage is a recognition of that happiness. That's a good thing.

o I'm sad that I didn't get to celebrate the relationship by being present at the marriage. (I love receptions, especially when I actually know the couple and think they're good together.)

o I'm confused that she didn't tell me about it ahead of time. I don't understand the advantage of being secretive about celebrating happiness.

o I'm curious about why they got married. I'm guessing it may be a practical thing, like Jo getting covered on Peter's health insurance as his spouse (maybe the CBS affiliate in Vegas doesn't extend coverage to domestic partners), or maybe they get a better home owner insurance rate as a married couple (they just bought their first house). Who knows?

o I notice with some bemusement that I am probably in a select company of people who: a) had both their children play major roles in his first (and only) wedding—Jo was in charge of the reception menu and Ceilee ran the bar when Ma'ikwe and I got hitched in a four-day extravaganza back in 2007; b) generally has good relationships with his kids; and c) didn't get invited to either of his children's weddings, both of which turned out to be subdued, low-key civil affairs in a Las Vegas wedding chapel—in fact, the same wedding chapel. How many of us can there possibly be? About the only thing we three have in common is that all the weddings took place in a desert environment above 3000 feet. (And I had been hoping all three would have occurred in more of a dessert environment, as in wedding cake and champagne.)

I reckon parenting is mainly an exercise in letting go. If you need your kids to reinforce the choices you've made in life, it's a sure recipe for heartbreak. A main motivation for my having a large and multi-day wedding was the chance to make a positive statement about ritual and celebration. Hah! After being an integral part of my nuptials, when it was their turn both of my kids opted for a minimalist ceremony, as stripped of ritual as they could make it. So much for impact.

Maybe when I'm out for visit in June, Peter and Jo will let me take them out to dinner.

Let Me Count the Ways…

While driving me to the train station last night, Ma'ikwe asked me—on the verge of my embarking on the start of back-to-back long road trips—to take time today to write all the ways that I appreciate her as my partner.

I liked that assignment, and thought it might be interesting to share what I came up with for today's blog entry. Keep in mind that she only asked me to write about the good parts, so this is my rose-colored perspective of our marriage. Fortunately, I had no trouble coming up with quite a long list.

In no particular order...

1. She takes responsibility for her own happiness, and does not build her life around mine.

2. She's logistically competent.

3. She offers helpful reflections about my writing.

4. She stands strongly for her views when present with me in dynamic situations. She's collegial without being mousy or pushy.

5. She balances well her ongoing friendships and her home community with her time with me.

6. She's intellectually curious.

7. She's spiritually curious.

8. She's willing to share many of my recreational pastimes (such as crosswords, cards, board games).

9. She's sexually open, and non-judgmental.

10. She's wiling to tell me when she's upset with me.

11. She hangs in there in tough times with me.

12. She's committed to personal exploration and growth.

13. She's a gifted facilitator.

14. She's a creative and sensitive mother.

15. She's a highly accepting and supportive partner with my friends and family.

16. She takes the time to listen to me share what's going on in my life (which is a substantial investment).

17. She works gracefully with multiple paradigms (examples include her own health, and personal growth work).

18. She's a good project manager.

19. She loves me.

20. She's committed to our marriage.

21. She's a good cook.

22. She's totally accepting of my chewing foods she eschews (don't laugh; this is bigger than you might think).

23. She's fun to work with.

24. She doesn't wilt in the heat of the moment.

25. She loves Nature.

26. She loves her body.

27. She's not squeamish and handles rustic conditions well.

28. She's equally adept at being a leader, a coequal, or a follower.

29. She can forgive and move on.

30. She likes trains.

31. She adapts her dress and demeanor to the situation.

32. She can work a room well in social networking situations.

I don't know that one is ever truly done with a list like this. Like the marriage itself, it's a work in progress.

Coffee, Tea, or Me?

Ma’ikwe and I unreservedly agree that we have a great sex life. However, when she asked me yesterday if I thought that was one of the main reasons our partnership worked well, we didn’t have the same answer. And that got me thinking…

For me, sex has always been confusing. While I’m generally sure of my footing in most things I undertake (which means I’m either confident in my ability to do a thing well, or confident in my ability to find out how to do a thing well), that’s not the case with sex.

I’m mystified why anyone finds me sexually attractive (though thankful that some do). And while I really enjoy sex (mysterious though it is), I do not have much confidence in the outcome of any particular engagement. On the up side, as I’ve gotten older—I’ve been doing this for more than four decades now—I’ve gotten more sensitive to reading my partner and tuning into what she wants. On the down side (so to speak), my erections have become increasingly erratic and undependable. By unlinking the concept of sexual pleasure from the imperative of male orgasm, Ma’ikwe and I have been able to achieve a highly satisfying sex life.

I give Ma’ikwe a lot of credit here—when it comes to sex she has catholic tastes without Catholic guilt. I’ve had past partners who found my inconsistent erections highly frustrating—even to the point of accusing me of withholding erections (for what reason I cannot fathom).

Not trusting my sexual response or sexual performance, I’ve emphasized connection in other ways: mainly emotional, intellectual, energetic, physical, yet even spiritual and psychic. For me, sex is a private exploration that is an enhancement to an established connection; it is not a lead-up to intimacy, it is a celebration of it. Thus, for me, sex is magical and potent, yet it is also quixotic and non-essential.

This choice has also been reinforced by my emerging role as a public figure in the Communities Movement and as a group process consultant. The Communities Movement and my work as a consultant are both rooted in a commitment to creating cooperative culture. While that culture is certainly not anti-sexual, it is anti-manipulative, and there are far too many stories of men in positions of power or prestige who have parlayed that into sexual advantage. I am determined to not be one the men about whom such stories are told (and not because I didn’t get caught; I want it to be because I never went there).

In contrast, I experience my wife as marvelously sure of herself sexually, and amazingly open (which, no doubt, enhances her sexual attractiveness—I believe that centeredness is more potent than pheromones). I think her sexuality is well integrated into her identity as a vibrant, fully-featured person, and it makes sense to me that for Ma’ikwe sexual connection is more centrally positioned in her personal pantheon of life’s important relational elements.

All of which sets the stage for yesterday’s off-hand query and the surprised look on her face when I reported after a moment’s reflection that I didn’t think that our creative and deeply connecting sex life was central to our marriage. For Ma’ikwe, she can’t imagine being happily married to someone with whom she didn’t connect well with sexually. For me, I would never assess the soundness of a nutritional program by the dessert menu.

Luckily, we both like sex, we especially like it with each other, and the authenticity and power of our sexual connection is independent of whether we label it appetizer, main course, or remedial training. It’s all good.

40 Days in the Wilderness

Yesterday I picked up my wife, Ma'ikwe, at the La Plata train station. Outbound from Albuquerque, she'll be in northeast Missouri for two weeks, to participate in the first Dancing Rabbit visitor period of the 08 season. In addition to her enthusiasm for the upcoming visit to her prospective cmty, her arrival was noteworthy because it marked the first time we'd seen each other since March 10—a (nearly interminable) stretch of 40 days and 40 nights.

While some subscribe to the theory that distance makes the heart grow fonder, mostly Ma'ikwe and I experience separations beyond two weeks with crankiness (for a fortnight we can more or less happily occupy ourselves with the myriad other portions of the full lives we already had before we got together). We hope to avoid doing 40 days in the Wilderness of Spousal Separation again. No fun.

Agonizingly, we only have about 55 hours together before she needs to head over to DR and I race around to wrap up loose ends at home before a 15-day road trip to North Carolina. Then it's another month apart before Ma'ikwe and I rendezvous next (in Albuquerque, just ahead of the FIC's Art of Community Southwest weekend that Ma'ikwe is coordinating May 30-June 1). These precious hours are an oasis in a desert of deprivation. Luckily, after we reconvene in late May, time apart will be more the exception than the rule—that I'm very much looking forward to.

When Ma'ikwe finally settles in as my neighbor (perhaps in July), we'll need to work out our routines of involvement in our home cmties interwoven with our lives as a couple. While it's not yet obvious how that will play out so that no one will feel short-changed, we're eager for that challenge to replace the one we're in now—trying to maintain regular contact while living in different time zones. Compared with what we've weathered so far, having Ma'ikwe just three miles away looks might good.

It happens that today is also the one-year anniversary of our wedding. Despite all the crazy logistics, it's wonderful to be together on this propitious day, and to celebrate that we're still very happy to have made the commitment we did last year. In the end, there's no substitute for having a partner you're totally into and who's totally into you. I'm a lucky guy.

Private Is More Public in Community

I’m working with two couples who are going through the painful process of trying to recover from a freshly uncovered affair where two people not in the same marriage jumped the fence and got together on the sly. As a further complication, both couples have been living in the same cmty, and they are all trying to figure out a way that they can still do so. It’s a mess.

While there’s nothing new about married people having affairs, I want to focus today on how this impacts the cmty, and the ways in which that context can be turned into an asset.

On the one hand, the cmty is another player in the equation. At some point, tensions between the couples (or even within a couple) cease being wholly private and spill over into cmty life. (Let me give you an example: imagine the now-informed cuckold being sarcastic and over-reactive in response to his wife’s lover’s proposal to the cmty about a new way to allocate parking spaces. Cmty members may need a more forthcoming response than “none of your business” in reply to a query about why he’s being so critical.) Can it ever be better to simply let people guess what’s happened? Is the part-fact-part-fiction distortions of the rumor mill ever better than the truth? I don’t think so.

Still, it can be excruciatingly hard to launder one’s intimate indiscretions in public and to share the hurt and pain with the full cmty. It can take a lot of moxie, and it’s not too hard to sympathize with those who feel too overwhelmed to make the attempt.

Communities involve a commitment by members to be more in each other’s lives than what you’d find in your average neighborhood—they’re called “intentional” for a reason. Unfortunately, most groups are rather casual about defining how much more, and it often takes a problem (or crisis) to make clear the extent that other members now see themselves as stakeholders in your well-being. Nowhere is that more tender than when a family gets into deep mud and the whole cmty gets splattered in the thrashing.

The good side of this closer connection is that you have the possibility of a broader network of support (think of how other cmty members will rally to provide food and succor for families in times of illness). The challenging corollary is that there is now a much wider circle of folks who are affected by your life and may expect to have a say in how things unfold. In the case of extramarital affairs, this can move you into an arena where you never expected to have the spotlight shine, much less be in the center of it.

To be sure, there are still boundaries of privacy in cmty—they’re just narrower. And perhaps fuzzier, since everybody doesn’t draw the lines in the same place and it’s difficult to find the motivation for the conversation short of a specific incident to push your nose into the ambiguity. At what point does a couple’s struggles become cmty business? Arguably, when the distress starts leaking into cmty interactions—which I’m defining broadly enough to include normal social interplay, not just maintenance and governance.

The two couples I’m working with have lived in the cmty for a while, and have already had first-hand experience with a prior affair (not involving any of them) being revealed to members via the grapevine. They all know how potentially damaging that can be—both for the cmty and the couples.

As hard as it is to face the music about embarrassing moments, in a situation like this it’s better that it’s your tune and your band. Not because the cmty has the right to tell the couples how to do their marriages (they don’t), but because the cmty needs to know what’s going on—in order to better understand why there’s tension, and how they can be of help to both couples as they work to repair their marriages. Cleaning out the wound may be painful, but it accelerates the healing.

Here’s the way I'm advocating doing this, all with the help of a strong facilitator:

1. Given the volatile feelings running in several directions among the two couples, the starting place needs to be an opportunity for each to tell their story and the emotions they've been going through. While I don't expect there to be ongoing friendships between the couples (given the depth of hurt and sense of violation that’s just occurred), I think it will go better for both partnerships if they can approach the cmty in a combined effort to tell the story and hear the cmty's responses. The hope here is: a) to establish a uniform story about what happened (to the extent possible); b) to give the cmty a chance to get the information all at the same time with all key players present; c) to define what support and healing will look like to all the key players (not that the answers will all be the same; but that the requests will all be on the table at the same time); and d) to steer clear of asking people to take sides.

In order to accomplish all this, it will go much better if all four people are allies in the attempt, and I don't see how that will be possible without first clearing the highly charged air among them.

2. If we weather the first step OK, next we’ll discuss what a constructive future will look like for each person, based on the assumption that both couples will continue to live in the same cmty. I’ll be asking each person to offer their best thinking about what they'll need to heal their damaged marriage (not just from their spouse, but from the other partnership, and from the cmty), how they'd like to participate in cmty life, and how they'd like to handle moments when someone from the other partnership triggers them (which we have to anticipate will happen).

3. Next we'll set up the mtg with the cmty. I favor asking for a special session (as soon as all four feel up to it), where the goals would be:

a. All four principals can tell their stories and their reactions. In addition, each couple can relate where they're at, how they're trying to heal, and what, if anything, they want in the way of support from the cmty to accomplish that. Included will be an opportunity for all four to state whatever boundaries they have for being approached about this in the future.

b. People can ask questions—which the four will answer if their willing and able—and the other cmty members will be given a chance to share their reactions. (I expect these will be all over the map: some will be outraged, some angry, some sympathetic; some sad; some scared; some will be blown away by the vulnerability—it will be a kaleidoscope of responses. No small part of the benefit of doing it this way is the value to the rest of the cmty of their hearing the breadth of each other’s responses and feeling emotionally connected in a troubled time.)

c. Unless any of the four have specific requests from the cmty, this will not be an action mtg; it will be a time for sharing and listening carefully from the heart.

It will be a tough mtg, yet it can also be very important one in its healing potential for both the couples and the cmty. And that’s the most exciting part, helping the cmty be a place where truth can land softly and be a catalyst for healing, rather than an invitation for tribunal and judgment.