Group Works: Nooks in Space and Time

This entry continues a series in which I'm exploring concepts encapsulated in a set of 91 cards called Group Works, developed by Tree Bressen, Dave Pollard, and Sue Woehrlin. The deck represents "A Pattern Language for Bringing Life to Meetings and Other Gatherings."

In each blog, I'll examine a single card and what that elicits in me as a professional who works in the field of cooperative group dynamics. My intention in this series is to share what each pattern means to me. I am not suggesting a different ordering or different patterns—I will simply reflect on what the Group Works folks have put together.

The cards have been organized into nine groupings, and I'll tackle them in the order presented in the manual that accompanies the deck:

1. Intention
2. Context
3. Relationship
4. Flow
5. Creativity
6. Perspective
7. Modeling
8. Inquiry & Synthesis
9. Faith

In the Context segment there are eight cards. The sixth pattern in this segment is labeled Nooks in Space and Time. Here is the image and text from that card:

Incubate creativity and nurture relationships by encouraging unstructured time and semi-private space. Insight arises fruitfully during times of open-ended conversation or in solo musing at the edges of a group. Can be designed ahead, or may arise in the moment.

This pattern is more robust when considered in the context of at least an all-day event or set of meetings. If it's only a single-session meeting, there's not be a lot of wiggle room. When you extend to multiple sessions however, the possibilities and pacing get a lot more interesting. 

The main point to keep in mind is that productivity can flourish in the interstices between the scheduled activities. This includes side conversations during bathroom/stretch breaks, what happens during meals, the dynamism of spontaneous clumpings of participants who linger after a session is officially ended (as in the photo above), the digestion and creative flights that can occur during the evening social time, or even what people experience when they get up and do tai chi before (or instead of) morning coffee.

The key is that people can benefit unpredictably from a change of setting, configuration, size, structure, or time of day—and organizers are smart to take that into account (as opposed to fretting because people are enjoying the breaks so much that they aren't arriving in their seats on time for the next session).

The prize at meetings and events is connection and insights, not perfect attendance or a complete set of notes. This is why it's valuable to have easy chairs, coffee, and confections (or better yet, confessions) near the event bookstore or registration, so that people can sit and chat. They may not go buy a book, but neither are they going "by the book," and good things may incubate in that rich unstructured milieu.

One of the prime directives of an event organizer is not to try to dictate what people will learn; it's to create an environment (and flow) such that learning can flourish. Let the magic happen. Give adequate breathing space between sessions, encouraging lingering and dalliance over rushing and urgency. You want an atmosphere that conveys the message: relationships matter. 

As different people will have different needs for what best promotes relationship and connection, your job is to leave adequate room—in space and time—for people to find what works best for them. If you build it (into your schedule and configuration) they will come.

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.

An Eventful Time of Year

A week from today I'll be arriving at Twin Oaks—the well-known 46-year-old egalitarian community in Louisa VA—for the start of their annual Communities Conference, running Aug 30-Sept 2. I've been attending this gathering for so many years in a row that I don't recall the last one I missed. Probably in the last millennium sometime.

Participating in community-related events like this is one of most enjoyable things I do. Typically I give a few workshops, perhaps facilitate a panel, often operate Community Bookshelf, sometimes run a benefit auction, and get to schmooze with a bunch of people hungry for more community in their lives. At Twin Oaks I'll get to do all of that. What's not to like?

As the main administrator for the Fellowship for Intentional Community, it's important that I'm in regular contact with our constituency, which includes both people living in community and those who would like to be. At gatherings like the TO Conference, I get to meet with folks from both sides of the aisle. With a projected attendance in the 200-250 range there are likely to be as many as 30-35 different groups represented. While it will be hard to have a conversation with everyone, I can try.

In some cases I'll be catching up with friends. In most cases though, I'll be meeting people for the first time, nurturing the seeds of community that have germinated sprouted in their consciousness. My job is to water the seedlings, to pull a few weeds, and perhaps to build a trellis to help guide the tender shoots.

I'll leave home next Wed for the drive east, and won't be home until October. With the Twin Oaks event on the front end of my trip, I won't head for the barn until after the Northeast Regional Cohousing Summit, happening in Cambridge MA Sept 28. In between I'll attend the biennial gathering Ecovillage Network of Canada at Whole Village in Caledon Ontario (about an hour west of Toronto).
In between I'll do a mixture of consulting & training for four groups from North Carolina to Massachusetts, with FIC's semi-annual organizational meeting thrown in for good measure. When I get back home it will be fall, and Sandhill's annual sorghum harvest will already be underway. 

After three weeks of recharge in the sorghum fields (and wrapping up the garden harvest), I'm back out for another month as a community circuit rider: first at The Farm (Summertown TN, Oct 25-27) for a weekend offering of Conflict Resolution and Consensus; then the annual NASCO Institute for student co-ops (Ann Arbor MI, Nov 1-3); and finally the Cooperative Communities & Sustainability Conference at Ananda College (Gaston OR, Nov 15-17).

• • •

Because one of FIC's main missions is to be a resource for building community, it's crucial that we spend time with the people we're trying to serve, so that we can fine tune our offerings. Do we have the right mix of books and videos? Are we able to demystify the community search process such that people know how to be discerning shoppers? What are the trends in new community starts? How many are looking to intentional communities for guidance and mentoring about how to build community where they are (in schools, neighborhoods, churches, and workplaces)? 

In this light, I think of my upcoming sojourns more as field testing than as a business trips. On the one hand, I'll be out there pressing the flesh. On the other, I'll be getting impressions from the flesh. Being a community networker is rather Taoist in that regard (I'll show you my way if you show me yours).

All and all, it shapes up to be an eventful fall.

Not Losing the Race

In the past week I had an thoughtful email dialog with a woman I'd never met before who came across something I'd written for the Diversity issue (summer 2012) of Communities magazine. The article was about the dynamics of racism in groups and she was moved to share her thoughts. As the topic is important and her comments were insightful, I'm using our dialog as the substance of today's blog.

She wrote:
I was just reading your article online, The Paralysis of Racism in Social Change Groups. I thought it was a great article, showing much more awareness about the minority person's point of view than I see in general from non-minorities. I'm African-American.

I wanted to make a comment, because I had such a strong reaction when I read this part of your article:

• If possible, try to acknowledge that for the minority person the dynamic feels like racism—something they’ve undoubtedly become sensitized to. Even better, try to acknowledge how awful this must feel. Try to connect with them emotionally, even if you don’t think you’re doing that bad thing. Note: I’m not pretending this is easy (authentically acknowledging someone else’s hurt when you feel wrongly accused); yet this can be especially effective at diffusing tension if you can do it.
 
Speaking only for myself, trying to connect with me emotionally would not be especially effective at diffusing tension in me. It would make me angrier. In this context, trying to connect with me emotionally, or acknowledging that what's happening feels like racism to me, would feel like a condescending pat on the head. I would prefer just this approach that you suggested:

• If you can manage it without a charge (coming from a place of curiosity rather than defiance), ask the minority person why they thought that racism was occurring (essentially, “What indicates to you that you’re being responded to differently by virtue of race?”).

Then I could state my case, what I'm perceiving, and we could go from there.

I was on your page, because I'm in process of forming a small urban shared home in the coming year. I know that good communication processes are going to be critical in the success of the house, so I'm getting as much information as I can about communication processes in the context of intentional communities. I'm a communication coach myself, so I hope to be a positive force in fostering good communication in the group.

I replied:
I'm glad to hear you found my article constructive. To be clear, I'm not an expert of race. Rather I'm a group dynamics expert, and much of my work is about how to understand and bridge differences without running anyone over. Much of that work (which applies equally well to racism, I think) entails getting out of one's perspective and seeing the world through the eyes of the person with whom you disagree.
 
Let me lay out my thinking about why I advocate trying to connect emotionally and see how it works for you.

In working constructively with dynamics, it makes a big difference if nontrivial emotional distress is part of the picture. Sometimes it is; sometime it isn't. By "nontrivial" I mean that it's great enough that there's significant distortion going on. The point being that a person's ability to hear accurately what's being said is compromised by their distress. People vary a good deal with respect to how much distress pushes them over the line, but everyone has a line. It's neither a good thing or bad thing; it just is, and groups are well advised to learn how to understand and work with that moment.

Overwhelmingly, my experience has taught me that if someone is in significant distress, you must attend to that first before discussing content. In many cases simply acknowledging it is enough to deescalate the moment to where the remaining distortion is tolerable. In some cases though, it takes much more. While I've developed a protocol for working that moment (when acknowledgment is not enough), I'll leave that aside for now. The main point I'm trying to make is that attempting to bypass nontrivial distress does not work. To be sure, many groups nonetheless try to do that (mainly because they have no confidence in being able to navigate distress accurately or constructively), yet I have rarely seen this work well and leads to brittle agreements.

Having said all that, I get it that you believe not addressing the distress would work better for you. While I question whether that's really true (providing the distress is significant enough--and I imagine where you feel racism has entered the picture that the distress would probably be nontrivial), I wonder if your conclusion is based more on the ham-handed ways that people (whites?) have tried to reach out to you emotionally and your lack of personal experience with that working well, rather than on a preference for keeping emotional distance.

I fully acknowledge that forced or insincere attempts to reach you emotionally are not going to work well, and will probably escalate the tension. Further, it is not a simple skill to learn how to do well. Despite that, I advocate for this approach because it's worked so well for me in 25 years as a process consultant. In fact, I don't think it's possible to build vibrant communities without doing emotional work.

She continued with:
You're right about this:

"I wonder if your conclusion is based more on the ham-handed ways that people (whites?) have tried to reach out to you emotionally and your lack of personal experience with that working well, rather than on a preference for keeping emotional distance."

It seems to me the key element is trust. I would only be angry to begin with if I thought there could be racists in the group.

I'm sure trust is the issue, because recently, a good friend of mine (non-black) said something to me that was highly insensitive to blacks. On a scale of 1-10, it felt like a 9.95 to me (only because nothing is a perfect 10). It hurt me deeply, and I was upset about it for two weeks. It's had a lasting effect on me, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my friend had zero intention of even bothering me. My friend was actually surprised that I was upset at all. This person may never "get it," and I'm okay with that reality, because I know this person well, and I know their intention is to be a kind and accepting person.

So, I agree that (if trust is there) it makes sense to deal with the emotions first.

Getting to the place of trust is the thing. I see how critical it is to choose members carefully and to establish these processes for handling emotions and decision-making.

I responded:
Trust is a chicken-and-egg dynamic. On the one hand you need trust to more readily see good intent and be less triggered. On the other, being seen accurately helps build trust. The heavy lifting here, in my view, is learning how to get good results (in this case, an authentic bridge to someone's emotional experience) when trust is damaged, or otherwise weak. Often, that's where skilled facilitation (or skilled group members who are sensitive to the need) can play a major role. It's damn hard to trust someone who has just done a grossly insensitive thing. Often, the exact same words—even said with the same tone and body language—will land differently if they come from someone other than the person who was the trigger.

I also want to make a comment about membership selection. While I am definitely supportive of being deliberate about it (especially with regard to social skills), no amount of screening will eliminate awkwardness or tension all together. Don't make the mistake of equating the volume of conflict with the health of the group. The test is not how much conflict you have, it's how you handle it.

She followed with: 
I'm not sure I agree with what you said about trust. I wouldn't trust someone just because they understand me and see my side clearly. They still may not have good intent. Any time I think I have good reason to believe a person doesn't have good intent, I will proceed with caution. If I have no specific reason to be cautious, if I'm neutral or I definitely trust them, then I'm quite open, as I am with you.

That would indeed be a heavy lift with me. If I think a person doesn't have good intentions toward me (regarding any type of issue), my emotional response to them isn't going to change unless that source of dishonorable intention is somehow removed. Maybe there's a misunderstanding on my part. Maybe they change their point of view—unless you're talking about learning to love someone who's working against you or who truly dislikes you. To me, that's a separate thing. Also, I could learn to work with anybody within a structure, like established rules in an intentional community, the same way I work at my job with someone I don't have a lot of rapport with (we just don't seem to like each other). 

I'd be able to cooperate with the person I'm upset with, but a facilitator or group member probably wouldn't be able to change my emotions.

Are you really talking about trying to alleviate my upset? To make me "not feel bad" about an upsetting incident? Maybe I'm unclear on the goal of the facilitation.

My reply:Often, though by no means always, bad intent is projected onto someone because that's the thing that allows you to make sense of what they've said or done. Overwhelmingly, my experience of working with groups in conflict has taught me that it's generally possible to uncover a plausible, innocent explanation (rather than that they're out to get you or believe you're inferior) if we take the time to unpack the dynamic and understand it from each player's perspective. (To be clear, I'm not saying the person did a smart thing; only that they didn't intend a mean thing.)

With that in mind, when I facilitate conflict I ask participants to suspend judgment to allow me the chance to explore perspective. If part of that exploration includes reaching out and holding each party accurately in both the their energy and their viewpoint, I can often get enough flexibility that people are willing to change their feelings and let go of the story that the other person acted from bad intent. This is huge.

To be clear, the facilitator only invites people to change their feelings (by which I mean anger toward the person, rather than upset with their action); there is no arm twisting. If it doesn't happen willingly, then it doesn't count. 

• • •

I just love it when people are curious about why things fall apart and what they can do to put Humpty Dumpty back together again—where no one has to be the bad guy or labeled an asshole. It gives me hope.

Going the Distance: Embodied Intimacy

This weekend Ma'ikwe and I are doing a workshop together entitled Embodied Intimacy for the Human Animal: Diving Beneath Language & Creating Embodied Relationships in Community (which is a mouthful and "embodies" twice). It's being led by Victor Warring & Elena Zubulake, who are from Colorado. He's a somatic psychotherapist and she's a bodyworker and dancer.

Ma'ikwe suggested doing this as a way to explore intimacy issues between us, that are part of the puzzle of whether she wants to renew a partnership with me. To restart our intimate relationship, she needs a clear picture of how we can address what's been hard (or not in the case of my inconsistent erections) about how we relate to each other and is hoping that this workshop will provide helpful insights—all of which sounds good to me.

Nearly 20 people turned out for last night's opening session, which was a gentle introduction to body awareness through movement with some light (non-sexual) touch. We spent some time in dyads and fours discussing what intimacy meant to us, both individually and in the community context.

I liked that it was protected time to step out of my routine, to set aside most intellectual considerations, and to simply be in my body. While many of the movement exercises were awkward for me (running, jumping, crawling on the floor) because I'm still recovering range of motion in my right knee after hyperextending it last September, I just stayed within what I could do and that seemed OK with everyone.

A large emphasis of the evening was developing a body language that was independent of words. While we do this all the time on some level (just notice how much richer face-to-face conversations are than email exchanges), Victor & Elena taught us to use touch (or at least body expression) to intentionally create "primate moments" where conversation (especially where there is emotional strain) was purposefully suspended to reconnect (reboot?) at the we're-all-of-the-same-species psychic level. It's a simple tool to redirect energy more productively. They also gave us an opportunity to express unconditional love and caring for a fellow human being with eye contact and gentle touch.

While we're only through the opening sequence of a workshop that will have four or five more parts, Ma'ikwe had an "aha!" moment last night when Victor described how the physical distance that feels appropriate between two people can vary widely—even (or especially) between intimate partners. He said there are times when 10 miles apart from Elena seems right, and other times that they want to be right on top of each other. From Victor's observation about physical distance, it was an easy step to broaden it to psychic distance—to the question of how much engagement with your partner feels comfortable and appropriate in the moment.

Ma'ikwe was excited about viewing the dance of intimacy through this lens, as it helped explain a confusion she's had about how much her answer varies and what that might mean (is there something wrong with her; is there something blocked about her ability to open up to her partner?). She came out of last night's session feeling better about herself (always a good sign), and we talked briefly about how we could work with that. I reported that I didn't need her answer (to how much engagement she wanted) to stay constant, yet I needed help from her to know what her answer was. On the one hand, she could just tell me. On the other, I need her to be OK with my asking what she wants. 

While this may seem obvious on the surface (it being OK that I ask her what she wants), in practice my posing that question has not gone well. She can be frustrated because she's unsure of her answer and I've put her on the spot. She has, at times, expressed irritation because her answer has not changed from the last time I checked and why aren't I paying better attention. She can feel trapped in that she "should" be available for engagement when her intimate partner requests it, and now I've outed her in her uncertainty or lack of desire in that moment. 

For this to work better in the future, it needs to be OK for Ma'ikwe to turn me down (by which I mean requesting distance from me in any particular moment). It also means Ma'ikwe has to state her truth (even her ambivalence), and I need to deal gracefully with "this isn't a good time." Fortunately, a lot of my personal work the past month has been around my tendency to spiral down when criticized or rejected, and I now feel much better able to handle her telling me "not now" without dropping into a funk. So this seems hopeful. I'm expressly asking Ma'ikwe to not protect me by softening her truth (because she can't bear to see me go into the whirlpool).

This was a good one to unpack, and an immediate reinforcement of Ma'ikwe instinct to do this workshop together. Already we've gotten a shiny new tool.

Wants and Needs in Intimacy

Yesterday, Ma'ikwe sent me a link to the Good Men Project, a blog written by Noah Brand. The particular entry she highlighted was styled, "Men Must Be Needed Because We Can't Be Wanted."

She sent me this reference because I've had an enduring issue with low self-esteem as an intimate partner, never really understanding why any woman would pick me (though profoundly thankful that some have). Here is the essence of Brand's thesis:

The core issue is this: many, many men in our society feel they have to be needed, because they can’t imagine they could ever be wanted.

Being needed can take different forms, all of which resemble traditional male roles. Brave protector against danger. Breadwinning economic provider. Indispensable handyman. Problem-solving leader. We get any more macho stereotypes in here, it’s gonna look like a Village People reunion. This is what being masculine means in our culture: to be necessary.

One of the most common complaints about feminism, all the way back to the First Wave, is that feminism seeks to make men obsolete or unnecessary. “If women can [fill in anything about female agency] what will they need men for?” runs the line, in every decade, in response to every advance. And while nobody is arguing that that’s a legitimate criticism, it’s important to understand that it arises out of a real fear. Look at the key word in that sentence, need. It’s always the same concept, however that objection is phrased. Plan A, for men in our society, is to be necessary, to be needed, to be indispensable. There is no plan B. If plan A doesn’t come off, we are lost, we’re adrift, we have nothing. This is an existential fear, on a very deep level.

This writing hit very close to the mark for me. Though I was surprised to hear that the author thinks it's so widespread, it makes sense.

I've always identified strongly with my output—with what I can do for myself, for others, for the world—and I've only just begun to tease apart (with the help of my therapist and Ma'ikwe) the ways in which that undercuts any inherent sense of self worth. This deeply ingrained habit (of identifying with one's product) is problematic on many levels, and leads directly to:

o  My limited ability to handle criticism well (to be clear, I'm not a disaster in this regard; I'm focusing though on the ways that I stumble and slip into deflection, defensiveness and overreaction—all of which undermine relationship and communication). If my worth is tied to my output and my output isn't any good, what worth am I? It gets too scary to let the feedback in. In short, I keep conflating my behavior with my essence.

o  It tends to devalue someone loving me as me, as I constantly discount something I can't make sense of (why would anyone want me, excepting as I can provide?).

o  It distorts engagement in that I'm constantly (if sometimes subtly) trying to demonstrate my worthiness through contribution, which can mask or obscure just being together and enjoying each other. When my partner wants to be seen, I can be so consumed with showing her that I see her that she experiences my absorption with performance as distancing. Ugh!

o  It creates an upper limit to what's possible in intimacy, because I have no confidence in the foundation. On the one hand, I've failed at every intimate relationship I've ever attempted. If I let that be the dominant story then it doesn't take long before I bump into the low ceiling I've set for what's possible in the relationship. 

On the other hand, as a professional facilitator I know that seeing the glass half full (this relationship can be different) has a powerful influence on outcomes—that if you can imagine a positive result you are far more likely to achieve it. So what's the payoff for low expectations (read low self esteem)? I just manifest the crappy result I project. While it makes me right, it's pretty stupid.

I'm starting to see how I've unintentionally shackled partnerships to my fear of being rejected and have thereby crippled the potential of what's possible. My work is to learn to give unconditionally—for the joy in giving and the magic of what can occur if the offer is freely accepted. For that to work, I need to take full responsibility for managing my self esteem if my offer is not met. All I need from my partner is presence and an honest answer.

• • •

Brand postulates that most men can't imagine being wanted, and that's not quite the box canyon I've trapped myself in. I've been around long enough and had enough partners that I know there are women who have wanted to be with me intimately—I just don't understand why. That said, I've definitely struggled with low self-esteem, and that matches well with Brand's picture of how men flounder in intimacy. I'm excited because I think I'm finally getting traction on my self esteem issues and my tendency to downward spiral when presented with intimate criticism.

Here's what I wrote Ma'ikwe this morning, after letting Brand's article percolate overnight:

I don't have the view that you need me. (Actually, I don't think I ever had that view.) While I'm hoping that you'll want me (as an intimate partner, not just as a work partner), and I think I can be good for you (I have that much of a positive image of what I can bring to intimacy), I have every confidence in your ability to have a vibrant full life without Laird if that's what you choose.

Going the other way, I think you're good for me and that I'll have a more joyous and stimulating life by partnering with you. That was what the Offer was about [to get back together, though on a markedly different basis than the one we started with back in 2005]. At the same time though, I don't think I need you either. I'll be OK and have other options if you turn me down. I haven't spent that much time imagining that path (the road that diverges from you), but I've worked a lot on accepting that that future can be good also.

While I don't know if I've articulated anything new, I wanted to share it because the Good Men Project blog spoke about men being in the trap of not knowing how to be anything other than needed, and I think I've made progress on that. While I still like to be useful (and don't imagine giving that up) I see my work as shifting away from defining myself by what I do, and focusing more on being when I'm with you.

Despite all the anger I've triggered in you, I see myself as a fundamentally good person and worthy of love.

There is something deliciously congruent about:  

a) The deep sense that coalesced in me July 26 that being with Ma'ikwe is profoundly good for me and that spurred me to make the offer to try again to make a partnership work, differently constructed.

b) Ma'ikwe sending me the Brand blog link (thereby demonstrating that she's actively considering my offer).

c) The benefit I've gotten out of the blog entry (in just 12 hours, some of it sleeping) to further delve into my issues, providing a graphic affirmation of the prime conviction that was the basis for the offer.

I love it when it works like that. And the kicker is that I benefit from doing this work no matter what Ma'ikwe ultimately decides about my offer. 

Today is the one-month anniversary of Ma'ikwe's decision to end our marriage. While I felt like I was dying that first night, overwhelmingly, my experience of the past month is that I've never felt more alive. What an unexpected and wondrous thing has arisen phoenix-like from the ashes of my marriage!

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.