Ancient Fish

I'm writing this blog entry to congratulate myself.

I think I might actually be evolving.

Recently, I've been finding myself doing things that I've always known were aligned with my ethics and principals -- maintaining clear boundaries without rejecting or judging others, allowing people the opportunity to pick up their responsibility (and therefore, their power), and generally, not getting "hooked".

The surprising thing about this is not that I've been doing it, but how I've been doing it.

For many years I've been "working on myself" (whatever that means!).

I've been practicing maintaining my boundaries -- Jeez! -- for a long time, I was just practicing holding the concept that I could have some boundaries -- but it was the kind of practice you hear when a six-year-old piano student (not a prodigy) is plunking out "The Happy Farmer" in their first year of piano lessons. (Duhm, Duhm . . . pause that shouldn't be there . . . . Duhm . . pause that shouldn't be there . . Duhm . . . . . . Duhm Duhm Duhm . . . . pause that shouldn't be there . . .DUHM! . . . . Duhm, Duhm)

For some inexplicable reason, and just within the last six months or so, many of these "practices", once belabored and often neglected entirely, seem to somehow have become fully incorporated and assimilated in me -- effortless -- without thought or preparation beforehand, and without regret or self-doubt afterward.

I think I'm becoming that big old, wily wall-eye or bass in the bottom of the lake -- that fish that local fisherman know well but never hope to catch -- the fish whose crusty mouth bristles with rusty hooks that dangle bits of line they somehow managed to tangle around the edge of a sharp rock and cut through -- the fish who has been caught, and escaped, so many times -- that now -- when it sees a worm wriggling before it, remaining suspiciously in one place when the current ought to be moving it along downstream, curled in that distinctive "J" shape -- it says to itself "Hmmm. I've seen that before. Not going there," and swims away to another corner of the pond, or simply watches with detached interest at the lovely motion of the worm's dance in the sparkling flow of the water.

I can't precisely say how or when this assimilation happened. I do believe that just "practicing" had a lot to do with it. If that kid sits at that piano long enough, The Happy Farmer will one day flow effortlessly from her fingers -- she will no longer look down at her hands, and she can begin to play around with the dynamics and tempo of the piece, rather than struggling for each individual note.

But usually, in this process, there is no distinct day at which the kid has, like, a "breakthrough" -- there isn't a moment when you pronounce: "There! Right there! There is the instant when she could play The Happy Farmer!"

It's been like that, for me.

And mostly, I've noticed this shift -- not at the time -- but in retrospect. I'll have an interaction with someone and afterwards I'll think, "Hey! I just maintained a boundary! -- How'd that happen?"

Let me give you an example:

A person (let's call them "Gina") tells me that she's brought me something. It's in her car. She tells me this in the middle of a gathering that I'm hosting. She is leaving the gathering. I am still engaged with my activities as hostess.

Gina: So, can I just pull my car around front and bring it in . . . . . ?

Me: Sure.

Gina: And . . . . Where do you want me to put it . . . . ?

Me: Right by the front door would be fine.

Gina: Okay . . . . where by the front door?

Me: (I take Gina out and show her where.) Right there.

Gina: Oh, okay . . . . . . . . well, maybe I can just pull the car around and put it there . . . . .

Me: Okay.

Gina: (Standing there.) Okay . . . . Well, I guess I'll do that . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yeah . . . . I think I can do that . . . .

Me: Okay! Great! I'm going to go back in now.

What is missing here (and difficult to communicate using only ellipsis -- also known as "suspension marks" in punctuation lingo) is the worm that is dangling. I believe that Gina wants me to help her unload her car. She doesn't actually ask me to help, but I believe that she is hoping that I will fill in the suspension marks by offering to do so. She's offering me an opportunity to "bite".

Here's how this interaction is different for me than it would have been a year ago. A year ago, I would have done one of two things:

1. I would have filled in those lingering ellipsis. I would have done Gina's job for her, and relieved her of her responsibility to ask for what she wanted by offering to help. It is quite possible that I would have resented this, or complained about it later. -- OR --
   
2. I would have responded as I did, but steeling myself all along the way, working hard to resist the seductive pull of that lingering non-request, and then felt exhausted, and guilty afterward.

And I would have thought I was a "good" person for doing so. I would have thought that offering to help her would make me "good" (even if I resented or complained alter), or I would have thought that feeling guilty made me "good" (even though I hadn't helped her, at least I felt bad about it).

Don't get me wrong -- it's not like I don't offer to help people -- even when they don't ask me directly. Most of my friends report that I am extremely helpful and generous. And, if she had asked me directly, I would have helped her -- without a doubt.

But in my observation of this particular individual's interactions with me, I see this subtle "fill in the gap" behavior frequently, and it feels ooey-gooey-icky-sticky to me. I perceive that she spends a lot of time anticipating other people's needs (and probably thinking this makes her a "good" person), and that she also seems to me to want others to do this for her, even though she claims not to expect it. I recognize this behavior because I used to practice it. Frequently.

Alright. Incessantly.

What was truly different about this interaction, though, was not what I did, but how I experienced what I did. I didn't have to "try" to do this. It seemed effortless, and interesting, to simply watch that worm a-dangling.

And it was only afterwards that I thought -- "Hmmm. I watched that happen. I chose not to bite. And choosing what I chose wasn't hard to do -- in fact, I never even considered biting."

This is a big change for me. I want to make clear that I don't consider Gina's behavior "bad" or "wrong". In the past, I would have participated with her in it, and then judged her about it. Wow! How's that for twisted?

Now I just see it as something she wants to play with that I don't want to play with. It's interesting. I have my own thoughts about why I don't want to do that -- but they are along the lines of "I don't like the result when I do that", rather than "that's wrong to do".

In one of the Conversations with God books, there is a statement that enlightened cultures "See what is, and do what works". I like this. I been working with it.

This shift in easeful boundary maintenance is only one of many. I've been finding it's easeful to do my daily spiritual practice, to communicate more responsibly, to stay out of judgment, even when the "little me" would really enjoy a full-on rant about other people. Instead, I've been feeling my feelings, owning them, and understanding that others really do not -- can not -- create those feelings -- they are mine. I find this a great comfort.

I've had a number of "worms" dangled in my direction recently -- from an associate who claims to hold agreements dear but found what I consider to be a quick and easy explanation for why they weren't choosing to keep them (without taking any personal responsibility), to a client who gave me three different excuses about why they didn't pay me on time (none of which excuses, as it turned out, were even true).

In the past, I probably would have rushed to "educate" these individuals in the folly of their ways. I would have emailed, or called, and confronted them. Now, I find that I just go: "Oh, I see that this is how that individual has chosen to act. I will choose my future interactions with them accordingly, taking this information into account." Here's why --

I had already confronted them, or we wouldn't even have had the communication about the explanations and excuses. I had already spoken my piece.

Since both of these cases, in my mind, represent forms of energy imbalance, rushing into yet another interaction not only doesn't restore the imbalance -- it furthers it.

So, as I have been growing into an ancient, wise, and unhookable fish, I think that what I've really been doing is working back to my core. I think that a lot of these "hookable" traits were trained into me.

I notice that small children are seldom vulnerable to unspoken requests. They are well-contained, and frustrate the hell out of adults as they contentedly keep playing with their dolls while we are vacuuming the floor -- can't they see that we need help?

I don't know about everyone else, but I think I had to be trained to learn to anticipate the needs of others -- heavily trained (after all, if it wasn't training, why did my mother have to repeat - so many times - phrases like "I want you to do it without me having to ask you" -- not in reference to agreed-upon chores, by the way).

I had to be trained to pick up responsibility that wasn't mine ("You should have known better." "Can't you see that Aunt So-and-So doesn't want to be bothered?" "Now you've hurt so-and-so's feelings.")

I had to be trained that it was impolite to ask directly for what you want ("Carol! You don't ask Uncle So-and-So to buy you candy. We don't do that!").

I had to be trained that you never asked people about their money, their illnesses, or their "personal lives".

I had to be trained that speaking the truth -- even when it was obvious -- was, at best, impolite, and, at worst, downright dangerous.

I had to be trained that if someone was treating me disrespectfully, or broke agreements, or abused me, it was probably my fault, and I shouldn't say anything about it.

I practiced these things for many, many years. And I got good at them.

I'm practicing other things now.

I know that every individual I meet is a strong, talented person who is quite capable of understanding, and asking for, what they need. They may need a little help in untraining along the way, and I'm glad to give them what assistance I can with that.

I also know that I have a natively generous and helpful spirit, and that I will give help whenever I can do so without detriment to myself.

I know that my thoughts, feelings, actions, and speech are my own. I have the right and the ability to choose my responses and reactions to the actions of myself and others, and the responsibility to allow others to choose their own responses and reactions, without attempted manipulation from me.

And I know what a hook looks like, wily old carp that I am.