Last weekend at the monthly Living Turnarounds Group (people to show up in person in Seattle and do The Work for 4 hours) a lovely inquirer shared a moment from childhood.
She had done something so many of us have done when we’re kids.
Jump out from behind a door to surprise someone, full of joyful, playful intentions.
I remember doing it with my sisters. Accompanied by growls or roars. A wild fluttering feeling of adrenaline might happen for both the one surprising, and of course the one being surprised.
But something about the story was perfect for me, to make obvious how blind spots can live right in front of us.
Her work was marvelous. The inquirer considered thoughtfully every question. The group listened closely, following along, captured by the inquiry process.
Even though I was the one asking the four questions, I was right there too, seeing the scene, doing my own internal inquiry about what it’s like when someone reacts to our “surprise” unexpectedly.
What if they take it the wrong way? What if our efforts aren’t acceptable in someone else’s experience? What if we’re too much?
What if we offer something….and a person says “NO!”?
I remember an incident with a similar quality with my daughter many years ago. I had gathered several movies, popcorn to make on the stove, and envisioned my daughter and I spending Friday night together at home.
When she came in the door late afternoon on Friday, I beamed and clapped telling of my great plans for us.
“Mom.” She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Those are the dumbest movies ever.” Then off she went to her own bedroom, leaving me in silence a moment, staring after her.
About twenty minutes later, I had a little chuckle. Who would I be without the thought that she was rude to me?
Noticing my own lovely, quiet Friday full of projects, writing, and meditation. Noticing the possibilities. Having a few passing exchanges with my daughter when she emerged from homework and listening to music in her room. Letting the evening unfold however it did. Sharing with her later that her response was a bit harsh-feeling for me. Hearing her immediate apology.
Other times, we had long talks. It just wasn’t THAT night. Mom.
So there we were in this kind of inquiry in our half-day retreat, arriving at the last step: finding the turnarounds.
The original thought for the inquirer’s situation: he exploded at me.
Turned around: he didn’t explode at me. True, found the inquirer. Only with sound and words did something happen. No bombs actually went off. No physical objects went flying. It wasn’t ALL at her specifically–the sound dispersed throughout the entire room, walls, ceiling, floor, furniture all evenly.
In my situation, I can find how my daughter wasn’t rude to me. She simply shared what was true for her in the moment, without any special regard for me (in a good way). She was free to say no. Uninhibited. Clear. No wishy-washy happening. Not sitting through a movie she disliked to make her mom happy, or anything weird like that.
Turned around again: I exploded at me. The inquirer found how when she reminded herself of the incident, she was forever cautious. She maintained pictures of other similar encounters. She told herself passionately to never let it happen again. She called herself bad for triggering the incident. These were inner explosive thoughts towards herself, experienced within.
I could find how in my situation I was harsh or rude with myself. I called myself dumb to have built up expectations for a Friday evening, without asking. I used the “no” against myself, taking it personally and telling a story of a daughter who doesn’t want to do anything with me. Which is so untrue. I suffered because of her response.
Turned around again: I exploded at him. The inquirer went a little blank. What? This is so common for us all who love to inquire. Which is one of the things I love about groupinquiry, and what I got so inspired and sort of amazed by a second later.
Because someone spoke up. “Well, you jumped out and set up the ‘surprise’ in the first place, right? Wasn’t that an explosion?”
LOL.
I don’t know what was so wonderful about it for me…it just had such a sweetly OBVIOUS example right out in the forefront. The first explosion began….with her.
It doesn’t really matter if the explosions had different tones or shapes or sizes….it’s noticing everyone is in the game.
And in my situation I am the one who was a bit rude, made assumptions, planned my kid’s evening without asking, picked out movies without more input.
It’s so precious to know we play a part in the whole theatrical movement of any situation.
It doesn’t mean we’re at fault, they’re not at fault, or there won’t be consequences. It becomes fault-less, curious, sometimes hilarious, fascinating.
It becomes lighter.
I notice life moved on, explosions and rude tones became silence again, new possibilities emerged.
Everything changing.
Even our perceptions of the past.
“I already please everyone, and I already have everyone’s approval, though I don’t expect them to realize it yet.” ~ Byron Katie
Much love,
Grace
P.S. Introduction to The Work on Parenting 2 hour online mini-retreat Tuesday May 1st from 4:00-6:00 pm Pacific Time. $25. Sign up here. There will be slides to watch on your computer or device, and we’ll also do The Work!