Forms of Taking Responsibilty

Over at the blog Yoga Journeys, I came across the following in the current post:

Today it became obvious that someone has a problem with me. Now I think most people encounter difficult relationships (or difficult patches in good relationships) from time to time. My self-talk in these moments tends to oscillate between, This is totally not my fault. There's nothing I can do. This person has her own issues, and, I'm a horrible person. I've ruined another relationship. It's all my fault. If only I'd..., I could have prevented this. Most of the time (and probably in this case), it's somewhere in between the two extremes. But also, placing blame is beside the point.

Yep, this definitely describes my reactions to relationship difficulties, at least part of the time. In my case, when these extremes occur, it seems to be coming from a misguided sense of taking responsibility. I mean, we hear all the time in Buddhist teachings about various forms of taking responsibility, right? There's even that old koan about the Zen cook who, upon learning he left a snake head in the soup by mistake, promptly ate it. No bitching, no excuses. He just ate it.

One major difference, perhaps the only real difference, is that the misguided responsibility taking that appears in the Yoga Journey's post, as well as in my own life, is "self-focused." It's all about me. I'm right or I'm wrong.

The form of responsibility taking in that old koan appears to leap past who is right and who is wrong. It's not interested in assigning personal blame; it's about addressing the situation at hand. I'm learning how to do this more in my life, but definitely still leap towards the habitual form of taking responsibility, which just causes more trouble.

What's interesting about the whole "I've ruined the relationship" narrative described above is that, in my case anyway, I'm coming to see that I often over-estimate the impact of conflicts I have with others. There's no doubt that on certain issues, I am direct, outspoken, and clearly outside of the norm in my views. And this does ruffle some feathers. However, given a shift that I'd like to credit my Zen and yoga practices for, what seems to happen more often these days is that I experience the intensity of emotion tied to whatever issue I speaking about with someone, but what I actually say and how I say it doesn't seem to cause the kind of intensity I'm feeling. In other words, it feels like I'm saying something that could cause a major rift between myself and others, but the actual action doesn't do so.

On the flip side, the "This is totally not my fault." narrative is an underestimation of my general impact in an given situation. In fact, it comes up most fiercely when I actually do have some responsibility, but don't want to take it, or want the other person to step up first.

Both of these narratives play into, for me anyway, a larger story I have long held onto having to do with finality. I tend to lean towards clear resolution rather than ambiguity. This isn't too smart in a world full of ambiguity.

For example, I remember dating a woman a few years back who did a few odd things about three weeks after we started dating. Nothing awful, just things that caused question marks for me. However, instead of getting to know her a little better and seeing if these were regular patterns, or isolated incidents, I went for the jugular and ended the relationship. Now, this could have been for the best, but looking back, I see how that decision was mostly about protecting myself from the ambiguity of being with someone who might turn out to be "wrong for me" later. But isn't that true of every romantic relationship in the beginning? We don't really know, no matter how many sparks fly.

This isn't to say that every situation calls for hanging around, watching, and waiting with uncertainty. Some situations demand decisive action, and some relationships require clear and unambiguous yeas or nays. But that decisiveness needs to come from something much larger than "I or my," otherwise it ends up reinforcing the very separate sense of self that we practitioners hope to break down.

This might be a useful way to check in about any form of responsibility. Is it about protecting "me, myself, and I" in someway? Asking that question could be a way to let drop off those dramatic forms of claiming experiences in our lives that don't, at the end of the day, serve to awaken. Or, at the very least, it might help you pause, even if you can't determine if you are responding appropriately or not.

Responsibilty, Leadership, and their Narratives

Feeling a bit in a funk the past few days. At work, we now have a new director. I met him this morning. He probably will be successful, and elevate the organization. He seems to be a person who knows what is necessary to get things done. And at the same time ... I think it's still time for me to go. But to what and how?

Barry over at Ox Herding recently had some posts about making a one percent shift in your life, our communities, even in our nations' current trajectories. He points out that such a shift will lead to others, and that it's often the first action step that is the hardest (in our minds.)

This is me, stuck on that first shift, not only in my job, but really in much of my life. I have plenty of ideas. Yoga teacher training. Studying herbal medicine. Going back for a PhD in Education. Getting a driver's license for the first time in my life. Starting another non-profit. Lots of ideas, but that's where it all is at right now.

I have a great fear to be honest that I will end up being over-committed and responsible for even more than I already am. This has been my life's storyline. Being the "responsible one," the one that is fairly self-sufficient, doesn't need a lot of help, volunteers in multiple capacities, and generally lands in positions of responsibility. It's a story, certainly. But also one with enough truth to it that it's hard to simply let go.

Before I was 10 years old, I had already become part parent to my sister, was responsible for a lot of the house cleaning, and had collected an internal narrative that I also was "responsible for maintaining the peace" between my then often fighting parents. Into my early teens, I began volunteering at my local rec center, and also "acquired" my mother's overbearing boyfriend's list of non-negotiable helping demands. I've rarely felt deep hatred towards another - I very much hated this man even long after he had exited my life.

Moving on, into college, I began acquiring extracurricular positions, eventually landing on the University's Student Senate, where I chaired multiple committees in addition to averaging 16 credits a semester. The end of college was, for this reason, both a time of loss and a relief. However, it wasn't six month and I found a new way to get involved, this time as a volunteer ESL teacher. That was 12 years ago. In the meantime, I have finished grad school, helped start a non-profit adult education organization and a literary journal, been an ESL teacher in three different organizations, and have risen to board chair of my Zen center.

And I have made so little money over the years that it's taken every last bit of frugalness, and probably a pound of stinginess to boot, in order to make it this far. No car. No health insurance. Living at home until three years ago. Lots in unusual decisions in the eyes of the average American. Honestly, I think I've done alright though, and there is little or nothing I'd change in my past even if I could.

Maybe this gives you all an idea about why taking the next step, making that one percent change, isn't so easy. Because I can feel the trajectory of my life being ready to reflected differently in some way, and yet can also feel all the fears and doubts attached to what might come.

Really, I'm afraid to fail - kind of silly when I view it from a teachings perspective - but there it is.

I've been told before by people who don't know me well, and could care less, to shut the hell up, suck it up, and move on.

Uh huh. That's a nice blunt offering. Sometimes very true too. Then again, the same person could just give me the bird and call it a day.

From a practice perspective, I think I've always had a major rub between the silent, contemplative, meditative aspects and action in the world. Anyone reading this blog for more than a few weeks would know that one though, so it's barely news. I find myself sitting in zazen, or walking around my neighborhood, listening. Maybe expecting answers to come and/or a direction to take as well, which I can see is probably a hindrance. Thing is, in the past, that direction, and the actions required have come to me - as you can see by how much I've done in my life.

So, I'm feeling impatient. Thinking maybe I just have to leap in some direction, and letting what comes come. Wondering if the whole leaping off the hundred foot pole teaching is foolish if done in haste. And what is "in haste" anyway?

I like to be a confident person. I like to have some sense of what I'm doing, and to be able to support others in finding that sense for themselves. It's part of the reason why I love teaching. But being in a lead role too often makes it that much harder to feel confusion, directionlessness, and incompetence because not only do you expect the opposite of yourself, but others come to expect you'll have your shit together as well.

Over the past week, I have felt less resistance to these decidedly "non-leaderly" qualities I am experiencing. In fact, I can even say I am curiously attending to them a little more. But it's still a challenge, one I can handle, but which seems to leading me slowly away from familiar territory.