Several articles ago, I wrote about my “word for 2010,” which is “unbinding.” I mentioned that a friend of mine, Peter Joyes, was creating small posters for my walls (one where I write, one in my counselling office,) featuring that word.

I decided on “Unbinding” as an expression of nirvana - a state of being that is devoid of clinging, perturbations, and knottiness. Unbinding comes from one definition of this hard-to-define word. (see wikipedia)

Va-na, meaning “weaving”, + nir, meaning “knot” = “freedom from the knot of the distressful thread of karma.”

Unbinding. Unknotting. Untangling.

So, the wise soul asks, “Unbound from what?”

Unbinding oneself from the allure of mind trips by joining the mind with the body in the here and now.

Last week, I mentioned that true vulnerability is a byproduct of escaping from the trap of endless mental games and descriptions, into the realm of open action. And this seems to me to be the ultimate unbinding. Oh. By the bye, notice that the word is unbinding, not unbound. This process is just that, a process. We learn how to unbind ourselves, and then continue to do so, until we die. It’s not one time, game over. And,

This is not a quick fix – quick fixes aren’t, and don’t!

Most people I know live in their heads, and have only a nodding (couldn’t resist…) acquaintance with their bodies. And in this article, I don’t even really want to talk about bodywork- you can go to my site and read all about it.

I want to talk about living caught in one’s stories, and unbinding yourself from that.

Oh, the twists and turns a tangled mind is capable of. It’s like a rat’s nest up there. One client has, for 4 years, alternately loved and hated her husband. Back and forth, back and forth. She says she wants communication, and all she does is judge. She says she wants fun, and all she does is blame. He gets tired and pushes back, and she gets harsher. He pulls in and acquiesces, and she decides to stay, as she’s convinced he’s finally trainable.

And nothing changes, as this loop is ingrained in both of them, and they “enjoy” the drama.

Others get caught in a “I’m a failure,” or “I’m not good enough” loop. Others, in an “I’ll never have a successful (relationship, career, family. etc.)” loop. And the odd thing? All that’s happening is that they are on a hunt.

For what, you ask? More “evidence” to support their preconceived notions.

Makes you wonder: why collect evidence to support what you say you don’t want? Answer: because they DO, at some level, want to confirm their tale of woe. Much better than the risk and insecurity of striking off on an uncharted walk.

And there lies the rub.

Despite the obviousness of this, let me state:

Thinking about doing things differently is being caught - entangled, bound.
Thought – thinking, pondering, reflecting, all change nothing. Griping, complaining, demanding rescue, demanding that the world change – changes nothing.
Doing something different? That changes things. It’s the only thing that does.

Most of my clients realize this, either on their own, or as I endlessly point it out. The shake their heads knowingly, accept this premise as gospel, and then go out and do what they always do.

And it’s time for me to shake my head.

Change comes at a price, and the price is actually doing something. In most cases, it’s doing what you say you’ll do.

• If you say you are going to communicate using a model, you do so.
• If you say you are going to start a project, you start it.
• If you say you’re going to write AND implement a business plan, you do it.

No griping, no whining about how hard change is. No blaming your parents for inadequate training in getting a life.

Unbinding is stopping doing what does not work, while doing what does.

Unbinding is disentangling yourself from your wacky thoughts. We all have them. Blaming, chiding, criticizing, ornery thoughts. On and on, like a broken record. They mean nothing, and are just chatter, unless you choose to make them the centerpiece in a meaningless life. Then, they take on a life of their own.

The next time you feel bound, tight, caught, have a breath. Move your attention to the tightness, hotness, coldness, dryness, or wetness in your body. Ask yourself, “What is this? What does my body want?” Mostly, if you listen, you’ll hear, “Do something! Move me, shake me, use me!” Those aches and pains have been caused by you, as you forced your body into submission and surrender, and yet on it fights, sending you messages, trying to get your attention, cajoling you to act differently.

I teach clients to physically unwrap their arms from their chest, to unlock their legs, and to open themselves to the world. To, in other words, become free of boundedness, and open to possibilities. From this stance of vulnerability, it is possible, very possible, to take a tentative step or two into another reality. But only if you unbind yourself, and then take a step.

What story are you using to stay bound? What would it be like to unbind yourself? What fear-based story do you tell to stay stuck? What would it be like to tell yourself a more interesting story?

What would it be like, to let your body work?

Body-work is a post from: The Phoenix Centre's Blog. If you're reading this article anywhere else on the web, let me know!

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Just thought you might want to know who I am

Dar and I are part of a group that’s meeting monthly in S. Ontario, made up of people who have done courses at The Haven. This is kind of exciting, as there’s the possibility of working on communication, and the “infamous three” – openness, honesty, and vulnerability. (1) (2)

We had a short discussion about the latter – and one of the participants, who also reads this blog, said,

“New topic for the blog! Vulnerability vs. courage.”
I replied that I saw vulnerability and courage as pretty much the same thing. And here’s the article!

1. The courage of vulnerability –

Especially in the West, vulnerability is considered a weakness. This is taught to us by our parents and tribes, who are, of course, concerned for our safety. However, this fear of vulnerability is ingrained at a deep level, to our detriment, once we become adults. (This is one reason most adults aren’t!)

Consider: most people I counsel are looking for intimacy – and by that I mean, simply, “to be known.”

If I hide, maybe no one
will notice me!

But they fear letting others in—or at least want their safety 100% assured, before they will let down their guard. This is so because of the ingrained and mistaken belief that one can be hurt through the betrayal of another.

No one hurts us but ourselves

Sure, people betray us. People walk away, leave us, judge and criticize us. This is a part of life. And yes, there is pain. But the pain is self-inflicted, as we tell ourselves awful stories.

The norm is to roll into a tight ball and to refuse to risk again.

An alternative is to open up and risk it all, time and time again.

Sure, such an action means that something might happen, and you might just choose to again pick up the knife of self-flagellation, and go at yourself again.

But the alternative to vulnerability is not courage, but isolation, woundedness as pictured on a card in the OSHO tarot deck called “Ice-olation.”

From a bodywork perspective, the sign of ice-olation and fear is “legs tightly closed, arms crossed over the heart, head down.” Like the picture, above.

The cure is opening up.

Which takes courage. Not because there is a big bad boogyman out there, waiting to pounce. It’s all about you, and in this case, it’s all about facing up to how ice-olating fear can be.

Once I truly and deeply understand that all psychic pain is self-inflicted (All of it. 100% Everything going on inside of you is you, etc.) I can be gentle and kind with myself. I can uncross my arms, open my legs, plant my feet firmly on the ground, and look up.

And I can speak my deepest, most intimate truth.

2. Being vulnerable means speaking your truth

Not the truth. Not other people’s truth. Not the truth of “Everybody knows.” The truth that comes from “Here is what is so for me, and here is what I do with this truth.”

Mostly, we try to defend our truth, and in this way maintain both control and a (mistaken) sense of invulnerability. Last week, a client e-mailed me, and started with, “I’m just really really sad.” This is a vulnerable statement. She described a couple of things she was sad about… which is the beginning of story-telling. She then shifted to “other-blaming” – making her sadness the result of the actions of others. Not helpful.

Even if it were somehow “true,” blaming is not helpful.

Because it results in a thought loop. “I’m sad. Here is who is to blame. Isn’t it sad those people did that. Woes is me. I think I’m sadder.” As opposed to, “I am sad. I haven’t done what I want to with my life, and much of what I have done is lost to me. I need a hug, to be held, and then to get up and do something.”

Speaking your truth is an interesting concept. Most take it to mean, “Endlessly regurgitating the same story, so that others will agree with me.” For me, it begs the question, “What do you want?” Which tends to be the question I ask when someone starts into this pattern.

Last time I did a Come Alive at Haven, Ben said that he really respected my writing and how I lived my life. I was quite taken aback by this comment. Jock asked me to describe my life and work. I got right into talking about me, as opposed to being vulnerable. Jock said, “Wayne, what do you want right now?” Initially, I claimed to be at a loss. They repeated the question 3 times. Third time, I decided to “let the question in,” and my eyes became wet. I said, “I’d like a hug.” B & J turned that request into a group cradling, which still stands as one of the most profound experiences of my life.

If I had stayed in my head, in my stories and evasions, I’d have missed this experience.

Speaking your truth is not about getting others on board with your stuckness. It’s opening yourself to what lies directly beneath the stories.

3. vulnerability is here and now

Which explains why it’s not about stories. Stories actually, at best, serve as a framework for true vulnerability.

Another client had what I consider a breakthrough last time she was in. We’ve been working for some years now, and her approach, when asked what’s up for her, is to tell a story. Each story is a part of a long chain of stories, designed to prove she’s surrounded by idiots.

Last session, she almost stopped the stories, and then, during bodywork, opened up. She began pounding, crying, and emoting. I pushed, she let go. She then looked up at me. I said, “What you look like right now, I can only describe as “wide-eyed wonder.”

For perhaps the first time, she was completely present.

Vulnerability is about letting out what is going on for you, right now, with no explanations. This is me, right now. And part of “me, right now,” are the emotions that are happening inside. Not descriptions of the emotions, not blaming someone for the emotions, but rather the emotions themselves.

Once you are able to both see this and express it, you’ll also notice that emotions are fleeting. I can be sad, then bored, then weepy, then laugh-filled, then have the feeling of “nothing much.” But only if I do not cling to the “endless reality” of my story, a.k.a. thinking too much.

4. vulnerability is unguarded

Unguarding yourself means being willing to both own and share your in-the-moment reality, without much (or any) filtering. Again, this flies in the face of our conditioning.

Our tribes shut this sort of sharing down. Parents who fear intimacy and emotions tend to either distract (“You have a great life! What do you have to be sad about?”) or threaten, (“I’ll give you something to be sad about!”) to get us to stop emoting. How much better to teach our children to responsibly express and process their emotions!

Therapists end up teaching this to those who dare to come for sessions.

(Although it’s interesting how many therapists I know how refuse to deal with their stuff. They talk the talk, but cling to their stories like terriers attached to a boot. This is a topic for another time!)

Being unguarded is not about being unhinged, although that’s OK too. Dar and I had a friend we hung around with, who often would run and scream throughout the house, being “the drama queen, personified.” We didn’t mind, which, I think, annoyed her. However, when she calmed down and I’d invite her to talk through what just happened, she’d refuse. She never once owned up to her drama-making, and just expected us to go along with her forever.

We demurred.

The point of letting go is to clear the decks so that you can begin to shift what is not working. Letting go gives us an opportunity to see how we are sturcturing our stories to stay stuck, and to commit to, and actually do something new and refreshing. It’s not meant as an exercise in self aggrandizement, and emphatically is not a game to stay stuck, while pretending to “get it.”

Unguarded means loosening the filters, and expressing yourself as you are, with focus and clarity.

5. vulnerability is body-work

As compared to mind work. You can’t be vulnerable if all you do is describe what you are feeling, thinking, and wanting. This is where story telling blossoms, and “Everyone knows…” rears its ugly head.

Yes!!! Push there!!!

While describing is certainly a step in an interesting direction (as opposed to stuffing it all,) it’s only quasi-vulnerability. Many of my clients describe it thusly: “Something comes up, I start to discuss it, get upset, and immediately leave the room, so that I can go ‘figure it out.’ Once I’ve calmed down, I come back and tell my partner what I’ve discovered.”

Yikes.

This is running away, actually, couched in the rubric of dialog.

Or, put another way, this is feeling in the body, and freaking out, and rapidly escaping to the head.

We’d suggest staying in your body, and letting your partner in on the process, without running away. If you do so, you will likely discover an interesting thing.

There are points in your body just screaming for a bit of pressure to be applied. And when pressure is applied, all kinds of sounds and emotions emerge, then fade, and whatever the drama was, fades with them.

More on this, next time!

5 Things About Vulnerability is a post from: The Phoenix Centre's Blog. If you're reading this article anywhere else on the web, let me know!

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Mindfulness and Life Purpose Weekend
March 19- 21, in Ontario.

Only 3 slots left! Check out the details by clicking the link.

“Quit clowning around and get real! “

Let’s look at the difference between understanding and doing.

One of the curses of living in the West is the mistaken idea that, in order for “life” to get better,

“I have to figure everything out: why I am the way I am, how I got this way, who is to “blame,” etc. Then, and only then, can I look at how what I’ve understood effects me. Then, and only then, can I even contemplate doing things differently. Oh. And I also have to figure out everything everyone else is doing, too!”

Because of this, and not to over-simplify, 90% of what I do is to help people to learn to

1. say what they are willing to do, and
2. do it.

Notice that I do not say, “Figure themselves out.” Because we can’t.

The reason we can’t is that all we are ever doing is telling ourselves stories. Short of videoing our lives (and, interestingly, I’ve done this with clients, and they still see what they want to see, despite video evidence to the contrary…), all we have are our faulty memories, and we lie to ourselves about their validity, all the time.

My point is, we can argue all day about whether any of your beliefs “make sense,” (most fights between couples are precisely about whose version of reality is ‘right,’) and the odds are we’ll never figure it out because the reality is, there is no ‘right.’

On the other hand, if you simply deal with each thing as if it is something to be acted upon, without figuring out much of anything, you’ll soon have a bank of new experiences to draw upon.

The only way out is to catch ourselves as we play our games, own it out loud to a friend, and shift the behaviour from stasis to action.

Most people, refuse to do this. Instead, they pretend to agree with me, while refusing to shift their behaviour—and they do this by coming up with creative excuses. That way, they think they are doing something, without actually doing anything differently.

If this seems to be your process, you, and “your life” are going to stay “stuck” until you actually change something.

Games People Play

To be human is to tell stories. Our brains do many things well, and a few not so well. Our brains name and categorize, which they absolutely need to do.

I just thought of an illustration, having just visited the john. We all know how to use the taps on the sink. We learned that as kids. So, when we walk into a new bathroom, we categorically know how to operate the tap. In other words, imagine how dumbed down life would be if we couldn’t make the leap from “home tap” to “all taps.”

On the other hand, I notice I still hesitate in public washrooms that have taps with no handles; rather they have infrared sensors. There’s a 1 second pause as my brain goes, “Where the hell is the handle? Oh. Yeah. Infrared.”

This is a demonstration that there is an actual thought process—a process of comparison going on, and I haven’t perfectly set a link between handle and handle-less taps.

Now, all of this categorization is well and good in a material world of things —less helpful in our internal and external experience of people and interactions. Nonetheless, we have ingrained patterns.

What happens is that we have experiences with people and do the categorization thing automatically–we assign the behaviour and the person to a “good/bad” category. The problem is, there is a difference between categorizing “all taps” and “all men,” if by “all men” we are referring to the behaviour of your partner. It’s similar to saying “Everyone knows…” as opposed to “Here is what I think.”

We’ve learned many ways of categorizing ourselves, and categorizing our beliefs about others. Some ways were taught to you by mom and dad, some by your peers, and some you just convinced yourself of. Many are quite wacky, and lead to odd places.

I’ve been working with a 17-year-old who is afraid of loose hair (as in, not attached to her body.).

Head hair—On her head, fine. In her brush or on her hand, she freaks out, screams and throws up.

Body hair and pubic hair, either attached or removed while shaving herself, fine. Leg hairs too long, pubic hair on the floor, or in her underwear, she pukes.

What she has taught herself is no stranger than some of the things you have taught yourself. To unlearn it, she has to stop herself before puking and tell herself a different story. (She cleaned her own hair brush, wearing gloves, last week, the first time in her life, and she didn’t get sick. Ah, progress. : )

Many people have “body stories.

They hate their weight, they find ways to not enjoy sex, or just feel “out of sorts with themselves.” But remember, there is a big difference between, “I am up 15 pounds and hate myself,” and “I’m up 15 pounds and notice I feel logy and am breathing hard, so I’ll exercise and go on a diet and lose the 15 pounds.”

Interestingly, I had a client who, 6 months after starting a new relationship, will slap on 30-50 pounds (she’s done this a dozen times) and wait for the guy to reject her. She used to play the same game with her father. She’d drink, gain weight, do drugs, and wait for dad to hate her. He never did, and she really frustrated herself over that, as “Anyone should be able to see what a disgusting person I am.”

Eventually, (so far 100%) as she acts weirder and weirder, the guy leaves, and she says, “See? If he really loved me he’d be willing to put up with me. I’m unlovable and attract guys who dump me.” She feels smug satisfaction for being right.

Only thing is, she says she wants a relationship. Hmm.

Thus begins our cycle of doing things designed to drive a wedge between people, to “prove” what we don’t want to prove—that we are unlovable.

Many people are reluctant to do real therapy, because at some deep level they know that assumptions are going to be challenged.

To really engage you have to be willing to be seen—and that can feel entirely too too open—you begin to feel things, so of course it’s easy to choose to avoid having that intimate of an experience. And if you add in bodywork, and it’s even more intimate and “juicy.”

There is a strong part in all of us that wants to avoid actually having experiences, while both fantasizing about them and thinking about what “everyone else” is thinking.

I suspect stuck people are really good at coming up with the ways and means to stop themselves from actually checking out their assumptions by refusing to engage in behaviours that might be stretching.

For example, take relating. I might tell a female client:

“You can care about your partner, but can’t care for (take care of) him, unless you want a dysfunctional, co-dependent relationship. Opening yourself up requires communication— telling him what you are doing to block yourself as you are doing it, then looking for a behaviour to counteract what you are doing. So, if you want to pull away, you say, “I want to pull away right now, so I will for 5 minutes, then I want a hug and cuddle,” or whatever. Elegant relating requires showing him you love him while admitting when you make yourself uncomfortable, self-conscious, or “stupid.” “

The proactive approach, by its name and nature, requires that you actually do something. (Do I sound like a broken record yet???)

Thus, the last thing you need is “guiding your thoughts in a more positive direction.” You need to guide your actions in a positive direction while accepting yourself as you do the mental criticism bit. It’s about expressing to others that you are blocking yourself, and letting them know what you’ll choose to do about it. Then, you do it!

Attitude is Everything???

Actually, believing that “attitude is everything” keeps you stuck. That’s an aphorism or affirmation. There’s the odd, New Age belief that if I keep telling myself something long enough, I’ll eventually believe it.

It’s all about getting comfortable in your skin, with your skin, and with the feelings and energies that flow within you. The only way I know to do that is to actually experience it.

Land in yourself, shift from understanding to doing, and, as they say on the shampoo bottle, “Wash. Rinse. repeat.”

Mind-full is a post from: The Phoenix Centre's Blog. If you're reading this article anywhere else on the web, let me know!

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OK, so I’m playing off of Stephen Colbert’s word, "Truthiness," Which he defined as,

"Truthiness is ‘What I say is right, and [nothing] anyone else says could possibly be true.’ It’s not only that I feel it to be true, but that I feel it to be true. There’s not only an emotional quality, but there’s a selfish quality."

As we’ve mentioned in our last two communication missives, the cure for Truthiness is honesty about our interpretations. So:

Truthiness: "My husband is always to blame, never listens, and doesn’t want to be with me."
Honesty: "I’m feeling cold and distant from you (said to husband…) and the story I’m telling myself is that I am unheard, unloved, and ignored."

Truthiness is all about going from the gut with no evidence. Honesty is speaking for yourself about what you know about—yourself.. AND, especially with the "The story I’m telling myself…" part, you’re cheerfully admitting that you’re making it up as you go along.

So, what about Sorryness?

This is my word for an insincere apology, designed to defuse the situation, while not being even close to real.

But first, about Canada…

Sorry! No! Sorry! Sorry!

People in Canada, including me, talk funny. One thing I noticed when I moved here in 1975 is that the word "Sorry" gets used like punctuation. In the US, if two people get to a door at the same time, one will step back and say, "After you." Or, "Pardon me." In Canada, BOTH parties, like as not, will mumble, "Sorry."

One of my clients flails a lot during bodywork, and each time, says "Sorry!" I say, "Try "Oops!" Or say nothing. It’s not like she did it on purpose and is therefore sorrowful.

Which is what the word means. Sorry means, "I am sorrow-full about." Why would one be sorrowful when arriving at a door the same time as another, or bumping into someone?

So, sorryness is using insincere words to stop dialogue in its tracks.

A friend wrote last week, to suggest this topic. Here’s one sentence:

Its more ’sorry’ as an out for repetitive actions and perhaps to protect one from, or not be curious about ‘retaliatory’ actions.

As you likely know if you read this blog regularly, I’m a big fan of the "action" part of the Communication Model. In other words, what you do is who you are. Who you say you are, or what you promise to do, is information. And it’s only purpose is to be compared to action. If your words match your actions, you are "in integrity." If your actions do not match, you are "lacking integrity."

Sorry seems to be the dumbest word

Let’s think about an apology (a much better, less charged word…) You do something you regret, and you apologize. Either directly or indirectly you are saying , "I won’t do that again."

If you do it again, you lied.

One client said, "I told my husband I’d never criticize him again, and that I was sorry for having done it in the past. But then he did this really dumb thing, and I really told him off." Out of integrity.

The opposite of sorryness is curiosity

If someone says, "Sorry, I didn’t mean that," or whatever, say. "Thanks, and I’m curious about your intent for doing that."

Sorryness is intended to get you to stop being curious. Sorryness is flung out there as a sop to the "offended party." It’s intended to change the subject, or make the subject go away. And it’s also designed to allow for repeats of the offending behaviour.

And… there’s no offense, if you don’t pick it up

At least there isn’t if you don’t bite and slip out of the Communication Model. The Model insists that we talk only for ourselves, own what we are doing internally, and exhibit (as above) curiosity.

"So, I’m curious about what you might be thinking, behind the sorryness."

"So, I’m noticing that you said you were not going to criticize, and I’m hearing you do that right now. I’m wondering if you are aware that your actions doon’t appear to be matching your intentions, from my perspective."

If I do not take offense, or create the internal story of "Poor me, hard-done-by," then the situation both defuses, and has the potential to become a dialogue. If I refuse to engage in sorryness (or truthiness, truth be told…) then I can speak directly about my dramas. If I accept responsibility for my actions, and invite you to take responsibility for yours, then curiosity is the key to intimacy.

Give the word, "Sorry" a rest. Try, "I apologize," or "Oops!" Make a correction, take a step back, and return to honesty and openness.

The truth, indeed, will set you free.

Sorryness is a post from: The Phoenix Centre's Blog. If you're reading this article anywhere else on the web, let me know!

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