I teach and use persona work pretty much every day. When someone is really stuck in an issue, it's liable to be because a persona has been activated. Since our most difficult personas originated when we thought our survival was threatened, rigidity and unwillingness to soften are pretty clear signals that a persona has seized the steering wheel.
I don't mind playing with a lot of my personas. My Airhead, Agnes Angst, Mrs. Victoria Hudson-Smith and Mr. Fix-it can be a lot of fun to play with. I don't take them very seriously anymore when they decide to make their appearance.
But there are a couple of personas I have that I don't enjoy. To quote Katie Hendricks, "You know you're really in the grip when it's not funny." This week I came face-to-face with "You're Not Hearing Me!" You know how it goes--you're not hearing me so I HAVE TO TALK LOUDER!! As you might imagine, You're Not Hearing Me has just about a .000 batting average in ever getting heard.
So I went back to the basics, being with it for awhile, then finally (with the help of my friends) getting down to the unarguable truth. Adding the dollop of appreciation allowed for real shifts to happen.
The good news of the week? You're Not Hearing Me got heard. By me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The unfulfilled promise of BLAMING
I had a brief foray into writing Country Western songs--they're the best at expressing the true drama of life. Here's one I especially liked (imagine a drawling, slow paced vocal):
If blame feels so good, why don't I feel better?
It's driving me out of my mind!
If blame feels so good, why don't I feel better?
Not misery and pain all the time...
I think I've mastered the art of blaming. I've got a whole cast of characters: The long-suffering martyr blamer ("I'll do it, it's ok..."), the seething blamer (--SILENCE--but you know it was your fault), the defensive blamer ("I did the best I could, why don't YOU try?!"), and yes, the overt blamer ("I never would have done ____ if you hadn't done ____ first!").
What I notice about blaming is, alas, it's true--I really don't feel better. After the initial adrenaline shot of the first finger-point (even if it's at me), things kinda go downhill. What else is there to do? Wait for the other person to change? Try to brow-beat them into it? None of that has ever actually worked.
What does work? The big move is to shift into wonder. I have that word, "wonder," inscribed on my watchband so I can see it all the time. Going from the AHA!! to the Hmmmm, in Planet Hendricks terms, makes all the difference. When I blame, I believe I know the source of the problem. Of course, if that knowledge had helped, the problem would've been solved. When I shift into curiosity, the realm of not knowing, suddenly possibilities magically open up again. It's like the tide has started coming in and lifts me off of the sandbar I'm stuck on. And I get to turn around into the open sea. It's the sometimes scary unknown, but it's a rollicking good ride.
If blame feels so good, why don't I feel better?
It's driving me out of my mind!
If blame feels so good, why don't I feel better?
Not misery and pain all the time...
I think I've mastered the art of blaming. I've got a whole cast of characters: The long-suffering martyr blamer ("I'll do it, it's ok..."), the seething blamer (--SILENCE--but you know it was your fault), the defensive blamer ("I did the best I could, why don't YOU try?!"), and yes, the overt blamer ("I never would have done ____ if you hadn't done ____ first!").
What I notice about blaming is, alas, it's true--I really don't feel better. After the initial adrenaline shot of the first finger-point (even if it's at me), things kinda go downhill. What else is there to do? Wait for the other person to change? Try to brow-beat them into it? None of that has ever actually worked.
What does work? The big move is to shift into wonder. I have that word, "wonder," inscribed on my watchband so I can see it all the time. Going from the AHA!! to the Hmmmm, in Planet Hendricks terms, makes all the difference. When I blame, I believe I know the source of the problem. Of course, if that knowledge had helped, the problem would've been solved. When I shift into curiosity, the realm of not knowing, suddenly possibilities magically open up again. It's like the tide has started coming in and lifts me off of the sandbar I'm stuck on. And I get to turn around into the open sea. It's the sometimes scary unknown, but it's a rollicking good ride.
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