I have the funny feeling that I told this story years ago—but it
is worth telling again. Many moons ago our friends Jim and Cathy took Dar and me
to a live dinner theatre performance of "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."
The theatre is large and well appointed, and the dinner buffet is quite
generous. The problem was with our seats.
We found ourselves plastered right up against stage centre. The
stage was probably 5 feet off the ground, so if we looked straight ahead, our
heads were at the actors’ foot level. Prior to the show beginning, we were
laughing about how one could not get any closer to the action.
Then the show started.
The actors towered over us, and we had to crane our necks to see
their faces. This led to stiff necks pretty quickly. But that, really, wasn’t
the problem. The problem was that we were way, way too close. We discovered a
lot of things:
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That the wardrobe people repaired rips and tears with
whatever fabric and thread that was around, whether it matched or not.
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That the women, who were dressed in fishnet stockings and
underwear or baby dolls (they’re whores, remember), were all wearing ripped,
torn fishnet stockings, with pantyhose under them, and the pantyhose had
runs.
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And, none of the blondes in the cast were natural blondes.
If you get my meaning…if you catch my drift.
Jim and I initially snickered at the "crotch level view" and
amazed ourselves at how much we were seeing. After five minutes, the novelty
began to wear off, and all we could see were the rips, tears and errant hairs.
(Gee, that rhymed.)
I thought of this story and its opposite—what might be described
as having "soft eyes."
All too often, clients get into the loop of wanting to analyze
each and every situation in their lives to death. I once worked with a client
whose brother had committed suicide. My client wanted to know why, and because
he was an EMT, he kept blaming himself for missing signs, not saving him, etc. I
finally suggested to him that the only way to understand was to climb into his
brother’s head, and if he did that, he’d likely kill himself. This seemed to
allow him to let go of the need to know, and with that, the grieving and getting
over could begin.
Wanting to know is a delaying tactic. It’s delaying the
possibility of letting go and moving past. If you think about it, this focus on
detail is never comforting, enlightening or fun. The process has no other effect
than to point to the next problem, and the next, and the next. And each problem
ups the distress level.
Much like our seats at the theatre. Nothing we did from those
seats could change anything. We made jokes, we rubbed our necks, we looked
away. And every time we looked back, we saw more. Razor nicks. Band-Aids.
Varicose veins. Bruises. With each new revelation, our attention was drawn away
from the enjoyment of the play, and into, "I wonder what we’ll see next—I’m sure
it will be worse!"
The only way we could have fixed the situation was to get up and
move or get up and leave. In other words, the fix was less detail and more distance.
Here’s the funny part about living life. Staying stuck in the
middle of the swamp is not required—it’s optional. Or, "Engagement with life is
required. Drama is optional."
It gets even more interesting when we do the drama bit about
something that’s not even happening. We’re in the middle of our 2nd move in 4 months, with one to go before we move to Costa Rica. We just learned
that the family whose house we are now living in is coming back in three months,
six months, a year, or two years. After learning they had no set date for their
return, we spent a sleepless few hours concocting scenarios regarding having to
move in either December or March, then wondering if we wanted to live here for
two years. Now, remember, none of this ruminating was being done with the
family, and it wouldn’t have helped if we had. They won’t know how long they
are staying until after they are in Chile for a while. All we did was chew, make
ourselves miserable, and lose sleep. In the real world, nothing changed. We'll
likely find out when they are returning by e-mail, either 3, 6, 12 or 24 months
from now.
So, what do "soft eyes" look like? Well, in the above example,
having "soft eyes" required that we stop focusing on what could go wrong, and
simply see softly. The next morning we said, "Hmm. Isn’t that interesting. I
guess we’ll figure out how long we are staying when we find out how long we are
staying." In other words, there is absolutely nothing we can do about their decision about when they return. And it is the height of stupid to spend time
trying to plan for each eventuality.
There is always the burning desire to hook ourselves into the
dramas that continue to emerge. And, most of us are surrounded by others doing drama, so at the very least we are reminded of drama’s dubious
attractions. Most of the time, Dar and I quite quickly extract ourselves from
the dramas of others. We just stand way, way back, and watch them spin.
In our own relationship, interestingly, there is even less drama. Soft eyes allow me to see Dar clearly, (seems like a contradiction, eh?)
whereas too much focus on detail only leads to the endless noticing of flaws.
Band-Aids. Razor nicks. Etc. This soft eyes approach plays out when I simply
notice what Dar is doing, remain curious about her life, motivations, stories,
and directions, while having no involvement with playing into her dramas. And
vice versa—I find that I can extricate myself from my dramas quickly when Dar is
simply there, observing and curious.
We’ve had acquaintances upset themselves when we have smiled at
their dramas and refused to join them in their dance. "If you were really my
friend, you’d be as upset as I am." Well, no. It’s not mine, and I don’t want
it, and besides, all that happens when we bite is we have a large pity party and
nothing changes.
We find ourselves seeing much more of life with soft,
non-judgmental eyes. We stay present with the situation without spinning it into
a drama. Our focus continually turns from explanations, obsessions, and endless
rumination, to simply noticing the situations as they pass by.
And they do. Situations are here and gone. It is the mental
gaming that seems to prolong them.
Begin to look with soft eyes, a light heart, and without drama.
Watch life pass, without clinging. It’s going to move along anyway. It’s better
to stay present for the ride.
And remember, you can’t repair fishnet stockings.
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