On Relat­ing Mindfully

I am through with shar­ing all my love
I have out­grown crowd­ing up my house
when you found me, I could not be loved
but then I found me and I’m happy to be loved.

Joan as Police Woman,
“To Be Loved”

I kind of amuse myself as I watch myself fig­ur­ing out articles—it gets to be mid-week, and a topic seems to pop into my mind.

I thought I ought to write some stuff on rela­tion­ships, espe­cially con­sid­er­ing how pop­u­lar my blog post, “9 Ways to Screw up a Rela­tion­ship” is. So, I started think­ing about how to frame the article.

A while back, I down­loaded an album called “To Sur­vive,” by Joan as Police Woman. I was play­ing it while think­ing about what to write about, and I heard the lyrics I’ve quoted. Bingo.

This set of lyrics is inter­est­ing, and is actu­ally quite Zen. If you look, you can see the pro­gres­sion of self under­stand­ing that is nec­es­sary to let your­self be “happy to be loved.”

I am through with shar­ing all my love

We have all been con­di­tioned by our cul­ture to have some really stu­pid ideas about rela­tion­ships, and their point. Roman­tic notions get dumped in with the ‘real­ity’ of daily liv­ing, to our detriment.

The major dumb, roman­tic notion is “If I give you some­thing (share myself with you,) you’ll love me and look after me, and we’ll live hap­pily ever after.”

If you believe this, then every inter­ac­tion becomes a test. The longer this kind of rela­tion­ship lasts, and the more score-keeping goes on, the deeper the trou­ble, and the more depleted each becomes.

You get long lists of “sins” com­mit­ted by the other. “See how bad he is? He promises me he’ll change and then he doesn’t!” Some­how, the bar­gain didn’t work out: “I gave him/her [sex, money, secu­rity, kids, end­less advice, cor­rec­tion…] and look what it got me!”

Here’s the first les­son: you can’t share love.

There is no thing called love, so shar­ing it is impos­si­ble. On the other hand, I can give and accept love. How is this different?

Giv­ing: if I give you some­thing, I need to give you all of it.

Prob­lem: “Here’s a bicy­cle for your birth­day. But… I’m only going to give you the wheels and seat, and when you prove your­self, maybe I’ll give you more.” Or, “Here’s a bicy­cle. It’s yours, until I need it, or I get mad at you. Then give it back.”

Solu­tion: “I give you my love, uncon­di­tion­ally. Right now, in this moment. You don’t have to behave in a cer­tain way to deserve it, and I’m not dol­ing it out by the teaspoon.”

Love is not a bar­gain, and can­not be shared.

Love either is, or is not.

Receiv­ing: If you receive some­thing, take all of it, with­out hold­ing back.

I have many clients who think (imag­ine, judge) that they have been hurt or betrayed in the past. Daddy aban­doned them, mom was nuts, past rela­tion­ships failed [always some­how the fault of the other per­son, or bad karma, or blamed on genet­ics or par­ent­ing…] They get into “Once burned, twice cau­tious,” and receive each new partner’s love “under advisement.”

Prob­lem: “I’m not sure if (s)he loves me, because [(s)he wants too much/does too lit­tle, doesn’t lis­ten, is dis­tracted, etc., so I’m going to be care­ful, and always point out what I am not getting.”

Solu­tion: If you choose to be with some­one, accept that per­son as they are. Not who you wish they were, but as they are. How they love you is how they love you.

I have out­grown crowd­ing up my house

Out­grow is cor­rect. Many imma­ture peo­ple, unable to fig­ure out the per­sonal respon­si­bil­ity part of rela­tion­ships, go for the vol­ume dis­count. The more the merrier.

I sus­pect many peo­ple stay in rela­tion­ships out of fear of being alone. Many peo­ple move from rela­tion­ship to rela­tion­ship, try­ing to fill their inter­nal void (which is, by def­i­n­i­tion, unfil­l­able.) Oth­ers think sex (or drugs, alco­hol, food, etc.) will do the trick.

And upon wak­ing, a house full of friends and lovers fills noth­ing, inter­nally.

In another “Joan” song (“To be Lonely”) we hear,

I’ll brave the night alone
The dark­ened sky
Uncer­tain skies
I’ll make it through
It’s a won­drous night
Pro­tect me night
I’ll make it through
This is the one I will try
This is the one I will try
This is the one I will try
to be lonely with

Sec­ond les­son: exter­nal grat­i­fi­ca­tion is like Chi­nese food. You’re hun­gry an hour later

Prob­lem: One woman I know really dis­likes her hus­band, but stays because “…the next one might be worse.” I won­der why she thinks there has to be a next one.

I sense she fears being alone and hates being with herself—and rather than deal with that, she hangs out with other peo­ple she can blame for what she feels—for her feel­ing of hate or fear.

In other words, inside is a feel­ing. It’s just a feel­ing. Instead of work­ing with her inter­nal processes, she goes “exter­nal,” and always finds some­one to blame. She’s really, really good at it.

Solu­tion: You will never be com­plete until you accept your essen­tial empti­ness and alone­ness. Odd, eh? Run­ning around try­ing to get filled up with some­thing is fruit­less. Stand­ing still or sit­ting still (the whole point of Zazen) helps us to expand our tol­er­ance, and even­tual accep­tance and love, for our essen­tial nature.

When you found me, I could not be loved
but then I found me and I’m happy to be loved.

Zen and Zazen are about find­ing your­self. It’s the only game in town.

I get tired, lis­ten­ing to peo­ple blam­ing their symp­toms on exter­nals. “Body­work made me feel…” “When she looked at me that way, I…” “If only my mother…” This all hap­pens both blindly and unreflectively.

Les­son three: “Out there” takes the heat, yet there is no “out there.”

Not really. Sure, stuff is hap­pen­ing, but what­ever you are think­ing and feel­ing (your inter­nal expe­ri­ence) is a con­coc­tion of your own mind’s drama.

So, here’s the kicker. This is not about repress­ing your feel­ings, or your think­ing. You can’t. This is about actu­ally notic­ing the games you are play­ing with your­self. You see the drama you are cre­at­ing in there, and choose to dis­en­gage with it. Or express it, with full self-responsibility.

I, for exam­ple, often tell myself “No one (except Dar) likes me or loves me.” I then tell Dar I’m doing that, and then I whine and snif­fle. I do not try to get oth­ers to love me, nor do I blame. I just notice the game I am play­ing inside, and express it.

Then, I get back to real­ity. I act, as often as pos­si­ble, choicefully.

In other words, rather than exter­nal­iz­ing, I “find me.”

Find­ing me means notic­ing me, lis­ten­ing to me, tak­ing total respon­si­bil­ity for me. Period.

Dare I say it?
In order to be a com­plete, ful­filled, “enlight­ened” human being, you have to love your­self. Not selected bits, but all of you.

To do this, you must, repeat, must, stop your­self from liv­ing con­di­tion­ally. I’ll be happy when…” is stu­pid. I am how I am right now, and it has noth­ing to do with some­thing imag­ined, and always n the future.

This is the stick­ing point for most.

Peo­ple want exceptions–for every­one to agree that they have it bad, are abused (or were, some­time in the past…) and have no respon­si­bil­ity for their behav­iour right now. Phooey.

I am loved, and I accept that love, moment-by-moment,
only so far as I am will­ing to do so.

I can only do so by find­ing myself.

If I am offered friend­ship, pas­sion, juici­ness, and refuse to “play,” I lose. If I accept all of myself and my life, I win.

This is all there is:
then I found me and I’m happy to be loved.