The Importance of Feedback

A friend recently commented on her circle of friends, remarking how grateful she was for them, and how much they had helped her grow. She mentioned that they sometimes have dinners where they give each other real and relevant feedback. This is, perhaps, the greatest gift one human can give another. I wrote about my internship at the Counseling Center in an earlier post, you can find it here

Many times this past year I have been both witness and participant to the power of giving truly good feedback. It's often a great tool in group therapy work when a member has shared something big that they are now uncertain about. It is very scary to open yourself up to a group, no matter how close you all are. Often there is still that voice in our heads that says "if they really knew me, they wouldn't support me".

When someone stands up to that voice and shares anyway, it's imperative that they get feedback around how that landed with the other members. Often the response we get is in direct opposition to what we feared it would be. In fact, most of the time the feedback is so far to the other side of what we expect that it can be hard to even take in.

We're taught not to think too highly of ourselves, to not be conceited, to hide the parts of us that make us feel different from the rest. When we let that go and really hear how we are coming across to others, it can be life-changing.

To do this in a therapeutic environment is important, and one could say that it's even the whole point.

To know the importance of this and to utilize this tool in a relevant and conscious manner with the people we love is not only brave, it's a true gift to our friends, our community and ourselves.

Loving us into Being

For about the past 9 months I've been an intern at the counseling center of our local state college, Fort Lewis. It's part of my graduate program in social work. It has been, in short, life changing. It's interesting to me that the length of my experience this year has been about the same as it takes to grow a human. I have grown. I have changed, I have been held and supported and loved in ways that have literally taken my breath away. The director of the training program retired this year. It was heart-wrenching for so many that have had the good fortune to learn from him. In short, to learn from Colin Smith is to be loved by him. Colin is a Jungian scholar. He looks like John Lennon, with long, wild hair and thick round glasses. He often speaks in metaphors, and he has no tolerance for small talk. We fell in love with each other immediately.

At our orientation retreat, we sat in a circle at one of the senior counselor's homes. 7 staff members, 7 first year practicum students, 2 second year interns. When the sage was burned and the circle was created, I felt at home. What followed though, felt new. Colin read from The Little Prince, he read from the Velveteen Rabbit. He talked about what it means to become real, to be human, to be heard, to be seen. I tend to pay attention to my body in times like these. I have a pretty good bullshit detector, but it works in reverse. It works by making me cry when something is real. As Colin spoke and my tears flowed, I knew it would be good year. I also knew that I would be heartbroken when it ended.

Recently we had our year-end retreat. "The take out". We live in a small western town with a big rafting community. That being the case, it's inevitable that river metaphors abound. The orientation was the "put in", everyone into the boat, here we go. We've been moving down the river, most of us ending up in the water more often than not. But the line gets thrown and we hold on, and sooner or later we get pulled to safety.

So here we were again, this time at the Take Out. We sat in a circle as each of us were honored and given feedback on how we had come across, how we had shifted, how we had grown since that orientation day. We were held, we were challenged and we were loved.

We talk a lot about "the container", the space we create that allows our clients to open, to explore their hard stuff, their dark parts, their pain. At that orientation Colin talked about the container, and how it needed to be strong enough to hold everything we pour into it. But that's not enough. In order for change to happen, that container needs to be heated up. The heat gets turned on and it gets hotter and hotter until the contents begin to change. It's alchemy, and it's uncomfortable. One of Colin's favorite sayings is "the shit turns to gold". It's our hard stuff, the stuff we're ashamed of, that we never speak of, the parts that are too painful, scary and sickening to look at that is our richest material. That container needs to hold all of that without breaking apart, and there's only one way to make it strong, and that's through love.

Carl Rogers, pioneer of person-centered psychotherapy talked a lot about "unconditional positive regard". The idea that we should see our clients without judgement, to think the best of them. I do believe Rogers was right on in his approach with that, but he was afraid to call it what it is.

Love.

We love our clients. When they open up and let us in, when they share their broken parts, we fall in love with them. How could we not? That's when we know we have the container we need.

There's another part to all this. When we fall in love with our clients, when we hold that unconditional space for them do their work, we heal ourselves too. It reminds us to be gentle with ourselves. Another saying in the counseling center is "we're all in the soup together". There's no "I'm OK, you're not", there's not a separation. We all hurt, we all have to deal with our stuff. The more of our own work we do, the more we can help others. Period.

I have never felt so scrutinized as I have these past 9 months. At the beginning it was uncomfortable. My body language, my dress, my humor (especially my humor) was all open to interpretation. I'm no stranger to being judged, but that wasn't what they were doing. It was more of an exploration, an invitation to see what was going on under all that. It was all for my benefit, and I felt that.

The goal of the training program is to make sure we do our work. Their work is to hold us accountable to ourselves.

The staff of the Counseling Center do this by modeling the highest level of personal accountability and integrity that I have ever witnessed.

They do this by making themselves available to us in countless ways, both professionally and personally.

They do this by loving us into Being.

Push Pull

Thirteen is hard. I remember it, and not fondly. My daughter will turn 14 in August, she graduates from 8th grade tonight. Over the past two years I've watched her move rapidly from a child to a young adult. It's a fierce transition, sometimes painful, sometimes sublime. Lydia and I had a profound first meeting, you can read about it here.

I often worry that she's cursed with being the kid that's "OK". She does well in school, she makes friends easily, she's pretty. It's easy to assume that she's just skipping along in her young life, without too many obstacles or challenges.

Sometimes I forget how intense these years are. She's negotiating the most complicated relationships that she has ever known. She's had to work harder on her schoolwork than ever before. Her body is taking off in a million different directions, with and without her permission, both inside and out.

In short, it's a crazy time.

I don't tell her enough how many times a day I think about her and smile.

I don't tell her how often I look at her and my breath just leaves my body because I am so proud of her, because she's so beautiful, because she's so smart, because she's so funny.

Sometimes she tells me she hates me. She doesn't yell it, she's not angry, she's just telling me about this powerful emotion welling up in her. I tell her she has permission to hate me as much as I love her.

She thinks I'm being sarcastic, but I'm truly not.

It's impossible to feel the special kind of loathing a teen can muster for their parents if we don't love them that much as well, but I know in that moment, she's not really feeling that side of it. It's complicated, like any intimate relationship.

These are tender years. She's trying to figure how to get away, I'm trying to figure out how to let go. We've just started this dance with each other, and I know it's going to get harder before it gets easier.

Sometimes I get so scared for her that I can't move, other times I'm so excited for her that I can't stand still.

I'm thinking it's going to be like this for a little while.

I'm OK with that.

The Edge

  In bodywork we often refer to "the edge". It's that place where you start to come up against resistance. We also refer to "the wall", which is the place where no further movement is possible. In massage the edge is where we do most of our work. I've been reflecting lately on what other places in our lives we find this place, and the short answer is...

Everywhere

In our workouts, in our relationships, in our work, in whatever we do for personal growth. It's the edges that we need to find to enact a change. Sometimes they're sharp and we come up on them abruptly, causing us to shrink back and wonder what just happened.  Others are more familiar and are worn smooth by repeated visits.

Sometimes it feels good to work with these places, challenging ourselves, pushing that boundary ever closer to the wall. (of course, the wall moves too, but that's another story)

At other times that edge is so sharp and so scary that we just can't work with it at that time. Sometimes just taking a seat a little ways off and acknowledging it's presence is enough for now. Sometimes the awareness is all it takes to begin the work.

No matter where you find yourself as you approach these places, be gentle. Knowing when to stretch just a little further and knowing when you've reached that place where enough is enough is important.

I tend to go through spurts in my life where I take on lots of edges at once (so many of them are connected), and then I take a break, I coast for awhile, and I let all that work settle in and integrate. Then I'm off again throwing myself at those places that scare me, challenge me, or confuse me.

Admittedly it may not be the best way to get things done, but It's what I do. From the outside I'm not sure how it looks. I guess it looks like a lot of different careers, a lot of moves geographically, lots of varied interests, a lack of financial stability.  I've found that this is impressive or disappointing in varied degrees depending on where someone is in their own life and what their relationship to me is.

I'm just starting grad school, I'm an intern at a college counseling center, everywhere I look I see edges, and more than a few walls. I like this place. It feels alive. I know some of those edges will cut me. I also have my eye on a few that have got me in the past, I still have the scars.

I'm ready for them this time.

22 Years

On the 8th of August it will be 22 years since the day my wife and I stood with family and friends under a tent in her parent's backyard. It was a beautiful New England day, my mom made the cake, her dad made sure that his gardens were in full bloom.

We had a Quaker ceremony. We sat in silence. At times, when they felt moved to do so, some of our guests stood and spoke. Some briefly with shaking voices, others confidently and with more volume. Some of what was said was about us, some was reflections on marriage and love in general. To be honest I don't remember most of what was said. I do remember being deeply moved at the time. I felt supported, loved and cared for.

What more could one ask for on their wedding day?

When Anna's grandmother Wilda stood I wasn't sure what I expected. This woman was the matriarch of a large family and a long-standing pillar of her Quaker community. She took a breath, turned to face the two of us and said "you must always remember, and never forget, that the plural of spouse is spice". Then she sat, refolding her hands in her lap.

We've reflected on these words many times over the years. At different points in our lives they have taken on different meanings, though the common current running beneath has remained the same. Anna and I figured out long ago that the more time we spend together, the better it is for our relationship. This isn't the case for everyone, and every couple needs to discover what the recipe is for their own success. For us, we like each other's company. I think Wilda had a sense of this. It's the things we do together that flavor the years. Sometimes it's the big adventures that we save and plan for, but more often it's the unexpected moments. It's the shared experiences that add depth and color to our life together. It's a planned week in the mountains that turned into an unplanned weekend at the beach. It's the countless triumphs and challenges of being parents together. It's the 6 states we've lived in. It's all the animals we've loved and lost. It's the perfect meal, the quiet walk, the phone call that a loved one has died, the phone call that a loved one has been born, it's an ambulance ride, a sunrise, the breaking of a heart, a great bottle of wine. It's 22 years of shared moments, each one a gift in it's own way.

Wilda may have just meant to be funny that day 22 years ago, witty to be sure, and it was both of those things. It also turned out to be the only clear quote that anyone can recall from that day. I've always been grateful for those words, they have served us well. Thanks Wilda, and happy anniversary My Love.

Who's Your Daddy?

(OK, so it's July, but this was written for my other blog and I thought it was worth sharing here, enjoy!) I can’t let June slip by without a post about being a dad. Our family has never really celebrated Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, that’s just how we roll. However, lots of folks like to mark that third Sunday in June, and I want to tell you about my experience.

I think it’s safe to say that I’ve always wanted kids. Happily my wife and I have this in common. I feel unconditionally blessed and humbled that we were able to conceive with relatively little effort. Despite what they tell you in high school, it’s not usually that easy.

I have two very different daughters. I love them both equally, and to the very depths of my soul. My oldest is 14. She’s a super shy, critically-thinking, amazingly brave, out gay teen. My youngest is 12. She’s more outgoing than her sister. She’s uber-competitive, loves to challenge herself and effortlessly moves through the popular crowds in ways that her mother and I never did. (ok, my wife says she was “popular”, but her class in high school had 7 kids, so I’m not sure that counts) My youngest will belt out a song lyric and lay down a dance move without a second thought, wherever she happens to be. My oldest would rather clean the bathroom than talk to the person bagging our groceries at the store.

How did two such different kids emerge from the same union? I have a social sciences background and lean heavily toward the “nurture” side of the nature vs nurture debate. But there you have it. I have no clue.

Where am I going with this? Parenting is a mixed bag. You have these little beings, helpless and completely dependent on you when they arrive on the scene. Many new parents feel as helpless as those infants at first. It’s a learning curve. Through trial and error we find out what works and what doesn’t for that little human. The next little human that comes along may respond totally differently. Maya loved to be swaddled super tight. She was our little burrito, the less she could move the happier she was. Lydia hated that. She would scream like she was being run through with swords if you tried to wrap her up. Lesson learned, and on it goes.

Parenting is a dance to be sure, but it’s improvisational. It’s more like jazz than classical. Read all the books you want, get all the advice you can, but when that child arrives, and for the next 16 years or so, you have to dance to the tune being played in that moment, and with that child.

It’s cliche to say that parenting is a journey (or a dance for that matter), but I’m going to say it anyway. It fits. One step at a time, never knowing quite what is around the next turn, you move along with your child. It requires a great many things, and none of them are ever quite what you expect. There is one thing I do know though, the only thing you really have to do to be a good parent is this:

Just show up.

Everything else gets worked out along the way.

Holiday survival tips

It's happened again. You skied and napped your way through late winter. You tilted your head back and drank in the first sweet breathes of Spring, you biked and hiked the summer away. Recently you looked around and realized that fall had descended, on the wings of golf ball sized hail no less. So here we are, entering another holiday season with all it's blessings and madness. For most of us this time of year is a mixed bag. We get to see family that we might only see once a year. We have an excuse to shower gifts and affection on those we love. For a brief time there is an increased spirit of acceptance and appreciation.

It's not all sugar plums and eggnog though. It can be stressful. It can be depressing. We may feel pressured to do more than we comfortably can. Our gifts may feel inadequate. We may be missing loved ones that we have lost.

How do we stay in the positive flow of these times, without getting lost in the depths of the darker side?

Here's a couple tips:

1) Know what not to compromise. Often over the holidays our normal routines get pushed aside to make others who may be visiting feel more comfortable. We may forgo our morning walk to make sure the coffee is brewing on time. The food we prepare may be richer or sweeter than we normally ingest. We might be drinking more alcohol than on just any other Tuesday night. (and who could blame you?) All these things can throw your body off, and that in turn can contribute to emotional upset as well.

Know what you need to stay on course physically and emotionally, and don't compromise on it. Your family and friends will understand.

2) Take time for yourself. It can be tempting to make sure you spend as much time as possible with out of town guests. After all, you don't see them very often and soon they will be gone again. Keep in mind that you may be much better company if you preserve some time to yourself, especially if you are used to having alone time during the day. Even a solo trip to the store to pick up a forgotten item can be refreshing, and you will be better company, and more appreciative of your guests, when you return.

3) Go easy on the gifts. In some families, and with some friends, there can be tremendous pressure to give expensive gifts. Don't buy into it, pun very much intended. Do you remember what you received for holiday gifts last year? Maybe one or two stand out, but maybe not even that many. Personally, I love Thanksgiving because the focus is on good food and company, my favorite things. But no matter what your religious or social persuasion, sooner or later between Thanksgiving and New years, the gift giving will happen. Maybe a few less pre-made gifts this year could help you be less stressed. Perhaps spending a portion of that money on an activity or some special food items would be more memorable and less costly. Here's another idea: My wife comes from a large extended family and each year they do a Secret Santa ritual where everyone chooses one name from a hat and that is the only person that person purchases a gift for. Everyone gets a gift and no one feels overwhelmed or insecure about the gift giving experience. I love this.

4) Get outside. We live in one of the greatest outdoor playgrounds in the world. Even if you don't have a house full of Olympic skiers, it's a good idea to get everyone out of the house, even if it's only for a quick walk. It clears your head, breaks the routine, and helps you move some of that fruitcake.

Keeping some of these things in mind can help your holiday season to be a little more pleasurable, and a little less stressful.

Pick Your Parts Carefully

I had a client tell me a story the other day. As I was working on the bottom of his foot, he said: "You'll find a lot of scar tissue in there. When I was a kid I was swimming in a quarry and I split that thing wide open. My friend ran out to the road, about a mile and a half away, and flagged down a truck. The truck driver hiked in to the quarry, carried me out and drove me to the hospital. Now that story lives right there in that foot."

This man is entering his 70th year, so I'm guessing it was 55-60 years ago that this occurred. True enough, he was carrying some scar tissue in there. Where there should have been soft and yielding flesh there were areas of rigidity. He was also carrying this beautiful imagery of a stranger helping a kid in trouble. He talked about that, and not about the pain, the blood, the fear, the hospital experience or his recovery. The part he kept there in his foot was the kindness of that man who stopped what he needed to do that day to help him.

We all carry stories along with our scars. Sometimes it's hard to find the grace in there. Often we can choose which stories we cling to, and that can radically effect how we move through the world.

It's also worth noting that every day we have opportunities to play our own parts in other people's stories. How we play those parts will be carried with them too, so it is well worth paying attention to how our characters unfold.

The Edge And The Wall

I read this great article this morning on the importance of not overstretching. It came to me through the magic of Facebook by way of two great massage therapists in Midcoast Maine, Kristen Burkholder and Katia Ancona. Remember that your tendons and ligaments have very little blood flow, and so they take a very long time to heal if damaged.

My massage instructor, Donna Kraft Smith, who was also a yoga teacher, used to say when we were doing our daily yoga practice "know the difference between the edge and the wall". The edge is where you feel resistance, this is where the work should be done. The wall is the place where you feel you can go no further, listen and respect that boundary to avoid injury.

How are You?

It's been raining here in Colorado. You may have heard. Thankfully here in Durango we are not suffering from the horrific flooding that the Eastern part of the state is, and I find my thoughts often drifting to those folks lately. It's a helpless feeling, watching an unstoppable natural event. Here in South West CO we need the rain, and this past week brought more of it than we have had all summer. I've noticed an interesting thing. Even though we are a seven hour drive away from the areas hit hardest by the flooding, and to my knowledge the rains here have been more of a blessing than a curse, people are looking out for one another. Multiple times last week I had clerks at various shops say "stay safe" rather than the usual "have a nice day". I think there is a heightened awareness of personal safety when part of your state is going through something like this. Maybe it was because last week also contained September 11, a day when everyone seems to be a bit more open and sensitive to the well being of their neighbors.

While I obviously don't wish tragedy on anyone, I would like to see more of this attitude expressed in general, and preferably without the need for catastrophic events.

I'm fortunate to be in a profession where asking how someone is, and really listening to the answer is a big part of my day. Or rather, I prefer this attitude, and so here I am in this profession. Often when I first greet a client there will be the obligatory "Hi, how are you?" and the answer will be "great!"

After all, they are here to get a massage, so life is understandably grand.

But once they are settled in a chair and I ask again, it's often a different answer. The stories of broken hearts or disappointments come. The lost job, the, ailing parent, the falling out between good friends. Somehow it's just not OK to let out the truth that we may be struggling with something in public. Not until we feel truly engaged by another do we let the wall slip.

I do understand that sometimes it's better not to lay all of our woes out in the grocery line just because someone happened to ask how we are doing. There are rules and social queues that help us negotiate when and where it's OK to say how we really feel. On the other hand, I have seen some truly beautiful exchanges between folks who do not know each other. Sometimes all it takes is an acknowledgement that this person in front of you is moving through something hard. A touch on the hand or shoulder. A look in the eye that says that you hear them. It can make all the difference. You may be the only person that day to truly acknowledge that life for them is hard right now. Often that one exchange can lighten that person just enough. It can make a real difference, perhaps for both of you.