Know Thyself

Finding Your Way

Back at the beginning of the last series of topics, I used a quote from a science fiction book called Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson. Let me set the scene for this week's quote.

The main character is a computer programmer named (get this!) Hiro Protagonist. Two other characters of note are his former girlfriend, Juanita and a 15 year old pizza delivery girl, Y.T., (who rides an atomic powered skateboard -- you REALLY do have to read this book …) Anyway, Hiro hooks up with his ex girlfriend (who is also a coder,) and they try to stop a plot to control the world through the use of language (which is why I'm so interested in the book in the first place.)

Hiro's talking to Y.T. about Juanita. He's hoping they're going to get back together. We pick it up on page 409. Y.T. says,

"Did you hook up with your old girlfriend yet?"

"No, but I have high hopes for that. Assuming I can stay alive."

"High hopes for what?"

"Our relationship."

"Why?" she asks. "What's changed between then and now?"

This is one of those utterly simple and obvious questions that is irritating because Hiro's not sure of the answer.

"Well, I think I figured out what she's doing -- why she came here."

"So?"

Another simple and obvious question. "So, I feel like I understand her now."

"You do?"

Yeah, well, sort of."

"And is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"Well, sure."

"Hiro, you are such a geek. She's a woman, you're a dude. You're not supposed to understand her. That's not what she's after."

"Well, what is she after, do you suppose …?"

"She doesn't want you to understand her. She knows that's impossible. She just wants you to understand yourself. Everything else is negotiable."

We really do get badly confused about the purpose of our intimate relationships, and the chief confusion is described in this quote.

I was "languaging" a client the other day. (I just coined that term; I mean that I was learning his language. As I began to hear him, I could then ask questions about how he perceived his version of reality.) He reported 10 failed relationships in the past few years. He said, "I could always find something wrong with each of them. I'd wait for them to change, but they never did." My question was, "Wrong in comparison to what?"

Of course, the answer was simple. Wrong, in terms of who he thought they should be. Wrong, in terms of not meeting his fantasies.

I asked him what he did about the issues he thought were "wrong." Did he talk with the woman about his concerns? He replied, "No. I go home and analyze the situation."

I wondered aloud if he, as a part of his analysis, did the following: he first pictured his girlfriend engaged in the problem behaviour, then saw himself interacting with her, and then realized she'd never change. He allowed that this was precisely what he did, and that this made him sad, as he'd have to leave her.

He was stunned when I suggested to him that the entire process he was engaged in was simply him talking to himself. His girlfriend is not in his head. The person in there is him, in drag, playing his girlfriend.

Now, I know you're maybe wanting to defend yourself here. You're thinking, "Well, that's just because he didn't know these women very well. I know my partner. When I imagine him in my head, and then imagine imaginary conversations, I'm actually imagining him exactly as he is."

Well, no.

You're not.

Which loops back to last week's episode wherein we discussed the idea of "objectivity." We desperately want to believe that we have infallible memories and make totally impartial judgments. In "truth," neither is accurate. Our "memories" change all the time and are extremely inconsistent and unreliable. And our judgments are all about making what we see fit what we expect to see.

Basically, when we experience another's actions, we don't simply experience the event. We interpret it. This means we make a judgment about their intent. "She's looking at me like that (the experience) because she hates me. (the judgment)." What we're doing is looking at the screen inside our heads, punching the "match expression" button, and in the blink of an eye looking at similar expressions, to which we have already attached meaning. Each of those events, however, are in our memory bank because we placed them there using the same process. The connection was made internally, without ever checking with the other person.

Another part of the "internal judgment" process is observing another's behaviour and thinking, "What would I mean if I did that?" Lets take an example. Stanley yells as Susie enters the room. Susie goes inside and instantly realizes she yells in that tone when she's angry. She replies, voice on edge, "Stop yelling and tell me why you're angry with me." Stanley looks confused. He says, "I wasn't yelling at you, and I'm not angry. I'm frustrated that this light switch won't work." Susie says, " I hate it when you yell at me and won't admit you're angry."

We all know where this is going.

To get back to today's quote -- think about it. What an amazing world it might be if we stopped trying to figure everyone else out, (internally, of course, without asking) and concentrated on figuring ourselves out.  Y.T. is right. The wise soul simply wishes to observe what she is doing, and in that process get to know herself. Everything else is negotiable. From a place of self-knowing, there can be an invitation to dialog, to sharing, to admitting what we're doing.

In each of our illustrations today, imagine what might have happened if the people involved had said, "So, I'm confused. I just saw you do (whatever) and I went inside and judged that you were (whatever) and I notice that I'm scaring myself (or making myself angry, or I'm getting ready to leave, whatever) and I'm wondering what's going on for you?"

You will notice that the language is "I" language. The person speaking is reporting her experience. She is admitting to the judgments she is making as she pretends to understand what the other person "meant." Having done that, and here is the mark of wisdom, she also admits that she doesn't have a clue as to what is going on for the other person, so she asks.

Now, she may discover that her perception and judgment were accurate. By asking what is going on for the other person, however, she has moved from a "You did too!" "I did not!" kind of confrontation to an invitation for her partner to explore what is going on for him.

In the end, we are self-defining creatures. We make our reality, and do so all the time. As does everyone we come in contact with. And then we pretend we "understand." The key to a successful, wisdom-filled life is to admit the existence and prevalence of our fantasies. We live in a world we create; we establish the rules and the boundaries, and then we try to make others play by our rules. And all the time, they're doing the same to us.

The way out is through dialogue. Or as my dear, beloved Dar often asks, "So, what colour is the sky on your planet?"

For the record, mine's puce.