Body Talk

I awoke and felt a slight twinge in my lower back. There was no obvious reason for it so I concluded that I must have slept awkwardly. I got up gingerly and made two cups of tea - one for myself and one for David, an old friend who was sleeping on a futon I had rolled out on the living room floor of my small flat.

David was sick. He had arrived from the States a couple of days earlier and had immediately come down with a heavy cold. He groaned his thanks for the tea and said that he needed to spend the day in bed. He wanted to make sure that he recovered in time for a seminar he was teaching at the weekend. I looked around the room at his stuff - his clothes spewing out of his open suitcase, his papers and laptop covering my dining table, and his used tissues strewn over the floor.

It was not the best time for him to be visiting. I had recently bought the rights to the loft space and was having it converted. It was going to transform my flat and enhance the value but right now it was chaos. Even though the builders had tried their best to be considerate, it had been going on for a week already and the dust and noise had become horribly intrusive. Today they were putting in a new staircase and I had been forced to stack a lot of stuff in my bedroom to make space for them. Clearly, I was not going to be able to relax at home. I decided to go out.

I left the flat to David and the workmen and took the train into central London to do some shopping. As the day wore on, the pain in my back got steadily worse. I tried to ignore it but it didn’t want to go away. I told myself that it would be better after a good night’s sleep. When I got home that evening I found David feeling a little better and the staircase up to the loft half completed. He was moving to his seminar hotel the next day but asked if he could leave most of his stuff with me over the weekend. Of course I said yes.

When I woke up the next morning the pain was worse and I had difficulty getting out of bed. David left for the seminar hotel and I pottered around and made tea for the workmen. The dust was everywhere. It had filtered under every cupboard door and into every nook and cranny of my flat. As the day wore on the noise of banging and sawing seemed to get louder and louder. It was a great relief when the workmen left, but by then my lower back was hurting so much that it was a struggle to stand up. It felt like a cramp extending down into my right buttock. I feared that if I sat in my low armchair to watch TV I might get completely stuck!

The next morning, with the pain no better, I was getting desperate. I considered taking painkillers or making an appointment to see my doctor. But then my mind wandered to the Voice Dialogue sessions in which I had worked with people’s aches and pains to help them find out what might lie behind their symptoms. “Surely you should be trying this with your own pain,” said a voice in my head, “Isn’t it time for you to walk the walk!”

I got a pen and paper and gently sat myself down at the table. I drew a rough outline of a body and then made a mark where my pain was located and focused on it. Next I took a clean sheet of paper and with my right hand - my dominant hand - acting as facilitator, I wrote down a question addressed directly to the pain. “Hello, do you have something you want to say to John?” I then took the pen in my left hand and waited for an answer to come. It is not easy writing with your non-dominant hand, but slowly the answer took shape. “I feel cramped,” it wrote.

Using my right hand again I asked, “Please tell me more about that feeling.” My left hand responded: “There’s no space for me. I feel pushed out. Richard was here and now he’s left all his stuff. The workmen walk all over the place every day with their big boots. It’s noisy and dusty and I can’t relax!” The dialogue continued for about 30 minutes during which time I found out that this was a five year old part of me that felt overwhelmed and upset. How appropriate that the pain in my back felt like cramp! Finally I asked this Child self what it needed to help it feel better and it replied, “A walk in the park, a long bath and a hot chocolate.”

That afternoon I took a leisurely walk along by the river. I took time to notice the plants, the trees and the birds. I sat in a café and drank a large hot chocolate. In the evening I ran a hot bath and had a long soak. To my great relief, when I awoke the next morning the pain had lessened and was now a dull ache.

At the end of the weekend David came back for a few days before flying home. Once again I had to put up with his stuff lying scattered over my living room floor - as well as the continuing noise and dust from the workmen. But now I found that if I took time to tune in to my Child, to listen to what it wanted, and where possible and appropriate, to act on its demands, the pain continued to ease. After a couple of days it was completely gone.

Since then, whenever I feel that slight twinge in my lower back I take note. I stop what I’m doing and ask myself how I might be ignoring or overriding the needs of my Child within. I have learnt to listen better when my body talks and to respect the feedback that it gives me about the current state of my physical and emotional wellbeing.

I still keep some painkillers in my cupboard and do have cause to visit my doctor sometimes. But by paying attention to the psychosomatic clues that my body presents and opening up a dialogue with the voice that lies behind my symptoms, I have been able to heal myself in ways that no amount of pills or the most astute doctor could have done.

My Droog

It was a cold, grey day and I was on my way to see a movie. Having half an hour to spare, I decided to grab a coffee at a local café. One more stamp on my loyalty card and I’d be eligible for a free drink! I paid for a small cappuccino thanked the barista and sat down two tables away from the door. I hung my jacket neatly over the back of the chair, and quietly began to read the latest edition of one of London’s free daily newspapers.

I’d only been seated a few minutes when a sturdy woman came in. She had big hair, a formidable bosom, and was wearing a long, flowing coat. She jammed the door wide open and as she swept passed me said, “It is so hot in here! Hope you don’t mind.” Before I could think, my Nice Guy had responded, “No problem.” I watched her order her grande latte. She was being very loud and overwhelmed the poor barista with a torrent of instructions. I noticed that she paid with a £20 note. I decided I didn’t like her attitude. Why had I not said “No” to the door being left open?

As she headed towards the table next to me, nearest to the open door, my judgements kicked in sotto voce. “She is obviously from a privileged and wealthy background. She is clearly used to bossing people around and getting her own way. She is completely insensitive to the needs of others. She probably walks all over the ‘little people’ who serve her.” I imagined her big house and her poor cleaning lady and the rich husband and the expensive cars and the spoilt children….

She flung her coat carelessly over one chair, put her bag on another and sat down with her back to me on a third. She got a thick book out of her large bag, stretched her legs out and leant back, her expansive hair almost touching my table. She seemed unaware of the space she was taking up and of my presence right behind her. As she turned the pages of her book she twisted her hair distractedly. I imagined dead skin and pulled hairs descending upon my coffee.

Even though there was plenty of room in the café, I felt cornered and unable to escape her invasive energy. It was as if she was getting bigger and bigger and I was getting smaller. I was starting to feel the chill from the draft coming through the open door, but my Nice Guy would not allow me to say a word, or even to move to another table. “Don’t say anything. There’s no need to upset her.” I tried unsuccessfully to focus on reading my newspaper. I felt totally impotent.

Behind my mask of composed indifference another self was starting to speak and my inner commentary entered X-rated territory. My very disowned Mean and Nasty self wanted to tell this “rich bitch” exactly what he thought. “If it was fresh air you wanted why didn’t you get your coffee to go, and sit in the park instead of being so selfish and taking up all this space! You only think of yourself. You’re an arrogant, stuck up cow! Well, I’ll show you!!” I fantasised taking her coat and bag and throwing them out onto the street, and pouring her coffee down the drain, or even better over her! Any resistance on her part would be met by force as I pushed and shoved her through the door. I was like a skinhead character from Clockwork Orange, a droog, the leader of a vicious gang, uncaring and unfeeling, on the attack, out for revenge, ready to torture and humiliate her….

As this fantasy surged through my mind I tried to just sit and observe it. My Nice Guy was desperately trying to push back and seize control. Heaven forbid I should act out what Mean and Nasty wanted! But I understood that in its own way Mean and Nasty was trying to insulate me from this very uncomfortable feeling of being squashed. I realised that this was in fact an old dynamic going right back to my childhood when I had often felt energetically smothered and invaded by my mother. Unable to take my space and stand up to her, I had acted out my frustrations indirectly with my toys, some of which had to endure untold misery, being beaten up or flung down the stairs!

A glance at my watch told me it was time to go or I would be late for the film. As I stood up and put my jacket on I could feel Mean and Nasty urging me to “inadvertently” bump into the woman’s table and spill her coffee, but my Nice Guy would have none of it. I did manage to sneakily close the door behind me in a gesture of defiance and was immediately attacked by my Inner Critic as he attempted to make me feel ashamed of my “petulant” behaviour.

As I walked to the cinema I reflected on what had just happened and the different selves that had been triggered. Most evident were my primary selves that have me be accommodating, polite, thrifty, unassuming, sensitive, quiet and neat. I had projected onto the woman my disowned selves that have to do with being entitled, asking for and getting what I want, taking my space, not worrying about what other people may think, and taking care of myself. My disowned instinctual energies showed up in my fantasy - confrontational, direct, uncaring, vengeful and violent. Finally there was my Critic, the policeman of my primary selves system. I wondered if I still needed to go to the movies after living through this rich inner drama!

I arrived half way through the trailers. I had bought my ticket in advance and had reserved a particular seat right in the centre. The cinema was only a third full but when I got to my seat I found it occupied by a woman sitting with her friend. They both feigned ignorance and their body language indicated that they had no intention of moving. A man in the row behind growled at me, “There are plenty of other seats. Why don’t you sit somewhere else?” I looked around. All the empty seats were at the sides - not where I wanted to sit.

I felt my Nice Guy pushing me to say, “Of course, no problem, I’ll sit somewhere else.” But instead, I took a breath and made a conscious choice to bring in my Entitled self together with just an edge of Mean and Nasty. “This is my seat and I would like to sit in it please,” I said politely but firmly. My voice made it clear that there would be no arguing. The women gathered up their coats and moved several seats over whispering and tut-tutting.

I sat down, immune to their complaints, put my jacket on the empty seat next to me, leant back and allowed my energy to expand. I was going to really enjoy this movie!

Snow Selves

I woke up and flicked the radio on before opening the curtains. “It’s the worst snow in London for 18 years,” said the early morning newsman. “All bus services have been suspended, many trains have been cancelled and schools closed.” I immediately felt upset that my plans for the day had been disrupted. But then, before I knew it, I was up and peering through the window, excited to see the thick white blanket of snow muffling the street.

As I gazed outside I felt myself being tugged in two opposing directions. My more controlling, professional selves were annoyed at the disruption. For them the snow was a real nuisance. I would have to make phone calls to cancel or postpone meetings and change my very sacred schedule! On the other side were my younger, more light-hearted selves, happy at the opportunity the snow gave them to come out and play. If I went with the former, I knew I would spend the day inside working at my computer and frowning through the window at the snow as it continued to fall, each flake piling up more disruption. If I went with the latter, I would use the weather as an excuse to abandon all thoughts of work and take the day off.

Either way, parts of me would be upset. Staying in and working would upset my inner kids and, come the end of the day, they would make me feel like a real spoilsport for not having let them out. On the other hand, taking the day off would incur the judgement of my Pusher and Organiser who would make me feel a good deal of guilt about “wasting my day”. I knew I would have to sweat this choice if I was to stay conscious.

I let these voices battle it out in my head as I had my shower and got dressed. After a hearty breakfast it was time to decide. Putting an arm around both camps I let them know my compromise. I would split the day into work time and fun time. I would deal with the phone calls, rescheduling and some emails first. Then I would go outside with my partner - who was unable to get to work - take a walk and enjoy the snow while it was daylight. In the late afternoon after dark I would come back to work at my computer again. Sorted.

How hard it was to stay conscious! I completed the tasks I had set myself and then, as if on autopilot, found myself writing another email and checking another document and making yet another phone call. The morning was slipping away from me. I heard my Pusher whispering, “Just one more thing, and then go out. Just one….” And at the same time I became aware of the growing upset on the other side: “Are we going out or not? Are you going to keep your promise?” I snapped to, closed the computer, called to my partner that I was finally ready, and put on my boots and coat.

Outside was magical - the enveloping white, the crunch of the snow under foot, the lack of traffic, the icy glow on my hands as I formed the snowballs, the cold drip down my neck as my partner’s snowball hit its mark. Our inner Kids came out to play as we made our way slowly towards the local shops. With schools closed, there were many children and teenagers out on the streets having a great time. Some had built a huge snowman with a carrot nose and apples for eyes. Others were pulling each other along on makeshift sledges.

On the faces of the adults I could see differing reactions to the snow. I wondered how many of them had gone through the same inner dialogue as me. Some fathers were obviously delighted to have an unexpected day off with their kids. Couples walked hand in hand smiling and chatting as they sipped warming cups of coffee - for them the weekend had arrived early! However, the faces and postures of others betrayed different emotions. Gripped by their fearful selves, older people shuffled along anxious that they might slip and fall. Then there were the frustrated businessmen heading with gritted teeth towards the station just in case a train might arrive and carry them late to work. I could imagine their inner voices sounding, “Bloody snow!” “Another day wasted!” “That is all I need right now!”

When we got to the local supermarket I was surprised to see it was packed with people. There weren’t too many smiles, and an atmosphere of mild panic hung over the aisles. Then I realised why. There was no milk on the shelves, no eggs, only a few loaves, no tins of soup and many other basics were in short supply. The lorry that delivers goods daily had not been able to get through. I could feel a part of me starting to kick in, “Quick, we should buy what we can before it all disappears! What will we do if we run out bread?” Here was the part of me that sees the glass as half empty rather than half full. Then another voice told me to, “Just chill. Don’t get caught up in this ridiculous panic buying. There’s plenty of food at home.” I smiled to myself and we left the shop without buying anything.

We continued our walk through the winter wonderland lobbing snowballs and shaking trees as we walked under them to make the snow fall from the branches onto our heads. Darkness was descending as we arrived back home a bit damp but happy. At my desk again I reflected on this snowiest day for 18 years. I thought about how easily external conditions can influence our inner climate. I ran through the cast of characters that had showed up in myself and others: there were the Pusher, the Controller, the Magical Child, the Playful Child, the Fearful Self, the frustrated Business self, the Deficit self, the Easy Going one…

So much snow, so many selves!

The Gift

The large bubble envelope arrived before Christmas. It was addressed to my partner and I, but used only our first names. The postmark was blurred and there was no return address. It contained something soft and round and I wondered what kind of present it was and who had sent it. Unable to control my curiosity, and with the encouragement of my partner, I opened it.

To our surprise, as I peeled back the envelope there emerged a beautiful, soft toy penguin! We adopted it immediately and christened it Duk Dik - a Thai name for something small, cute and round. It now spends most of its time hanging out in the bedroom waiting to be cuddled by one or both of us. We still haven’t figured out whom it is from; but it has to be someone who knows about me and penguins.

If you walk around our house you can’t fail to notice the presence of a number of these Antarctic birds. There is the penguin clock in the kitchen, the penguin calendar in the office, the various large and small penguin statues, the penguin soap holder in the bathroom and even a penguin alarm clock from Japan which makes a wake-up noise that no-one could ever sleep through. So what’s the fetish?

As a child I had recurring nightmares about being chased by penguins - not just one penguin but a pack of them; and not just any old penguins but big Emperor penguins! It was the kind of dream where I was frantically trying to run away but unable to move forward and escape. They were closing in on me and just as they were about to catch me I would wake up in a panic. They weren’t really malicious but just very big and overwhelming. I even painted a large watercolour of an Emperor penguin when I was at primary school. It filled the entire sheet of paper. The teacher was so impressed with the magnificent black, white and yellow beast that she pinned it up on the wall for all to see. My mother kept it and I still have it rolled up in a cupboard.

“Were you taught by nuns?” one of my friends enquired searching for a possible explanation for my dreams. Nope. “Did you have picture books about penguins when you were a little boy?” offered another. Again no. To this day I have no idea where my unconscious mind got the dream image from.

The meaning of the dream was a puzzle to me until I was 42 years old. In that year I attended my first Voice Dialogue training with Hal and Sidra at their home in northern California. As an optional afternoon activity one of the assistant teachers organised a “play with clay” table. As I sat there, I was encouraged to kneed a lump of clay and just allow my hands to form whatever they wanted as I chatted to the assistant. To my amazement what grew in front of me was a very large, erect, clay phallus! “Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, “You won’t believe how many guys create one of those.” I felt reassured but wondered what it could mean.

She sensed that the phallus represented one of my disowned selves and invited me to give it voice. As Lawrence Novick PhD writes in his article “Some Thoughts on Working With Disowned Selves” (Voice Dialogue Newsletter, August 2008): ‘What is important is clarity about what the essence of the particular energy or self is, in contrast to the form in which it is being expressed.’ What the form of my clay piece nominally suggested was something sexual. However, when I spoke as the voice of the phallus I found that it represented a confident part of me that was not afraid to show itself; it would have me stand tall in the world and be full blooded, full bodied, physically assertive and powerful; it was creative and proud.

As a child I was very shy. My parents encouraged me to be a good little boy and not show off or boast. I learnt to embrace the modest, retiring, sensitive energies and shun my more proud, assertive and physical selves. It was not OK to be big and full and take up space. How perfectly an erect phallus symbolised these disowned energies.

Amazing and enlightening as my clay session was, it was not until the next day while out for an early morning jog that I got my big aha! moment. Of course! The energy of the selves represented by the clay phallus was exactly that of the Emperor penguins of my dreams. The tall, proud, confident penguins standing erect and pursuing me in my dreams were exactly those parts of me that I had had to disown as a child. What a wonderful physical image my unconscious had given me of my disowned instinctual selves.

Even now my rational mind would suggest all sorts of other interpretations as to the meaning of my Emperor penguins - the birds that cannot fly (grounded imagination?); their ability to survive extremely harsh winters (endurance?); their awkwardness on land and elegance in the sea (at ease with the “ocean of emotion”!?). But I will not be seduced by these speculations. Instead, when I sit in bed with Duk Dik by my side I just try to energetically connect with his larger cousins - the Emperor penguins of my childhood - and embrace the gifts they bring me.

In Flight Selves: 2

The negative bonding with the passenger on my left (see part 1) had kicked in within minutes of entering the aircraft. I wanted to escape from his energy and the unpleasant judgements and feelings I was having around him. Withdrawal rather than confrontation has always been my primary way of dealing with discomfort. Maybe I could move. There were three empty seats to my right and I had my eye on them. How perfect it would be if I could just slip across the aisle…. But just at the last minute a young family boarded and settled in to them. Damn! The flight was full so there was no escape.

As I pondered my predicament I found myself becoming interested in the family - especially the father. I guess he must have been in his early thirties. His beautiful wife was clearly pregnant and between them sat their little boy - probably around three years old. The father was good looking, wearing fashionably relaxed clothing that intimated a defined yet not overly muscular physique. His clothes - designer jeans, a T-shirt with some kind of biker logo on it and black leather boots - suggested a macho personality. Yet in his interactions with his wife, fellow passengers and air stewards he was soft spoken and polite. He also supported and hugged his wife when she appeared overwhelmed with the task of feeding or changing their son. I imagined him to be a perfect lover. With his son he was attentive, caring and patient. The perfect father! I also noticed that he had strong, powerful hands.

Having resolved my negative bonding with the passenger to my left, I now felt my attention shifting more and more to this wonderful man to my right. To me he seemed to embody the essence of strong yet sensitive male energy. I realised that in my fantasy about him I was putting him onto a pedestal and making him too perfect. What disowned selves were at work here?

On my wall at home I have one of Jan Saudek’s iconographic pictures called “Life” (www.saudek.com/en/jan/hlasovani.html?fid=20). It shows a young, muscular, working-class man wearing jeans and no shirt holding a naked baby to his chest. We cannot see his face or the lower part of his body. His hands are large and his nails are stained, indicating that he does hard manual work. The baby seems secure and safe in his arms - one hand cradling its body, the other protecting its head. The image is immensely strong yet tender and I have always been drawn to it. I imagined my neighbour to be exactly this kind of man.

My grandfather was a blacksmith - strong and with the kind of hands that Saudek’s man and my fellow passenger had. He left school when he was fourteen. He wanted me to get the education he never had and go to university. When I accessed his introject many years ago in a session with Hal, he said that he now regretted this because going to university had created a monster! He saw me as effete, overly sophisticated and much too intellectual. His injunction was simple: work hard, eat when hungry and sleep when tired.

As I grew up, I developed a very strong Rational Mind as a primary self and I have experienced a lot of my life through that Rational Mind. I have largely disowned my grandfather’s hands and his kind of practical, responsible masculinity. I have never had a manual job or taken care of a wife and children. My own strong, nurturing father and husband energies have been buried. I realise I was projecting these disowned selves onto the man to my right.

So what was the lesson here? As I watched this capable father across the aisle I could see that by embracing some of my disowned masculine energy I would have more confidence and presence in the world; I would be more balanced and grounded in my relationships; and, most importantly, I would be better able to nurture and protect my own Inner Child.

In Flight Selves: 1

The theory of the Psychology of Selves says that as we grow up we develop primary selves that keep us safe in the world, protecting our vulnerability. The price we pay is that we more or less disown the opposite selves, and also lose touch with our vulnerability. When we encounter our disowned selves in other people, we either judge them or put them on a pedestal and find them mysteriously attractive. I recently had an experience of both on a flight to London from San Francisco. In this posting I’ll first describe the judgements.

I had booked an aisle seat and, when I boarded, a middle-aged couple were settling in to the two seats next to me on my left - the woman by the window, the man using my seat to unpack things from his bag that he would need during the flight. I said, “Hello”. But he didn’t acknowledge me and seemed irritated that I had arrived to take my seat before he had finished. As we headed east at 35,000 feet he clearly felt it was his right to use the whole of the armrest and block my reading light by holding his book up high in front of him. He never said “excuse me” or “thank you” when he had to get by to use the toilet. I noticed that he only used monosyllables and grunts to respond to his wife’s questions and requests; and, to top it all, he drank quantities of wine and spirits!

You have to understand that my primary selves have to do with being polite, communicative, respectful, accommodating, and pleasant to others. Also, I seldom drink alcohol. So here I was sitting next to a whole bunch of my disowned selves in the form of my fellow passenger!!

I could feel the judgements of my primary selves coursing through my mind and body. I felt myself tightening and sitting more rigidly, waiting for the opportunity to recover the armrest should he move his elbow. Then I paused. I was on my way home from a weeklong intensive Voice Dialogue training with Hal and Sidra at their home in northern California. There had been much sharing and analysis of negative bonding patterns and I decided to put into practice what I had learnt and experienced during the training.

So I asked myself if I was unconsciously feeling vulnerable right now. It had been an amazing week where we had all supported each other as we dived deeply into our individual processes. I was still feeling quite open, sensitive and a little lost as I moved out of the safe container of the workshop and back into the everyday world. I was sad to say goodbye to my friends in California and also missing my partner in London as I had been away for 3 weeks. I hadn’t slept well the night before and I was facing a 10 hour flight with the prospect of an 8 hour time change and jetlag when I arrived. Yes, I was feeling vulnerable!

Once I realised this, and that my primary selves were on high alert to try and protect me, I was able to sit with my vulnerability and take more conscious care of myself. As I did this I could feel my judgements about my neighbour melting away. I followed Hal and Sidra’s advice to imagine taking a little essence of his energy to see what gift it could bring me. Of course! It was one of my issues that I had been working on during the training: entitlement. I was entitled to my space and light, comfort and consideration. I could do more than just cope with my very entitled neighbour, put up with his behaviour, be outwardly nice yet inwardly silently judge him. I could unhook from the negative bonding pattern and assert my rights in a neutral and impersonal way through an Aware Ego. I felt very calm about this realisation and my body immediately relaxed.

And then a remarkable thing happened. The energy between us shifted. He moved his elbow away, and for the rest of the flight we shared the use of the armrest. He reclined his seat and held his book lower and I had plenty of light. When the snack tray came around half way through the flight I wanted to take two chocolate bars. But the steward made it clear that we were only allowed to take one each. Noticing this, my neighbour took the bar he was entitled to and then offered it to me! He continued to drink but it didn’t bother me any more. We never had a conversation, but once I had embraced both my vulnerability and acknowledged the disowned selves that he held for me, the tension between us disappeared and I could relax for the rest of the flight.

Well, almost! In my next blog posting I will describe the passenger to my right across the aisle and how he was the source of a mysterious and consuming attraction.

After a Voice Dialogue Workshop - by Helena Weaver

Monday morning – and I woke up – and something was really different! I immediately felt aware of myself in a new way. For once I was not immediately identified with my anxious, pushy worried, selves. Yet I could feel that they were nearby, eager to put their point of view and get me up and running around. Fascinated, I brought myself a cup of tea back to bed and proceeded to conduct a meeting of any self who wanted to attend.

Instantly a very Responsible self arrived and listed a huge long list of demands, worries and responsibilities. This self sat straight and strong but with a crushing sense of burden like a heavy dark cloud that weighed him down. All these duties had to be squarely faced, he said, and tightened his shoulders and gritted his teeth. Anxiety and tension filled his chest and stomach.

I withdrew, thanked him and listened for other voices within that might want to comment.

Then his opposite took over, laid herself back amongst the cushions and began to completely chill out. She remarked that as far as she was concerned she was prepared to do nothing today for as long as possible; Helena hadn't had a weekend off for 2 weekends now and rest was long overdue! I was amazed to experience how rapidly the sense of burden and stress left my body as she lay there, guiltlessly, muscles melting into the bed, thinking about virtually nothing - expect the play of sunlight on the leaves of the trees and how good it was to just lie there.

I met this part of me in the workshop an unprejudiced way for perhaps the first time ever. Usually, I realised, I unconsciously disown her as a work-shy skiver who gets in the way by refusing to work hard enough. Yet I consciously long for a more relaxed life style, more quality of life, more enjoyment in just living.

It strikes me now as wonderfully funny and so appropriate that this part that I had been beating up, now turns out to be the key to my dreams of a happier life! I see she is the part of me that can easily access a state of just being. And that it is her that is crucially missing from my life, who can bring a quality of presence and sensual enjoyment into my life in a way that no other part of me can. After just 5 minutes in her I felt completely refreshed. To my amazement I then found I got up and began organising my week in a state of effortless ease and flow. Extraordinary, no pushing and force required!

Thank you, John, and Michael, for teaching me to open this door! This is a whole new way to discover inner balance, and one that is such a delight to use!

An Inner Patriarch

In Her book “The Shadow King: The Invisible Force That Holds Women Back”, Dr Sidra Stone writes about a self she calls the Inner Patriarch that exists often unconsciously in women.

‘What does the Inner Patriarch expect of women? The Inner Patriarch thinks that a good woman should be supportive, receptive, loving, giving, compassionate, understanding and nurturing. She should not be too powerful, and she should not take up too much space. He likes his women submissive and tame. He fears what will happen to the world – and to the women themselves – if women were to stand up and take power either in the outer world or in the more personal world of relationship.’

I heard an example of the Inner Patriarch’s voice on BBC radio 4 the other day. A second generation British Sikh man was talking about the time when at the age of 30, and after many attempts by his parents to arrange a suitable wife for him, he finally told his mother that he wanted to marry a woman of his choice. His mother held very traditional values about the kind of woman that would be suitable for him – values that had clearly been passed to her from her mother. She told her son that he should choose a woman that was shorter than him, faired skinned, good at house work, a good cook and obedient!

The Inner Patriarch exists in both men and women. Once we can hear its voice and separate from it, this self need no longer insidiously pass on the values of a patriarchal society from generation to generation. All of us - whether male or female - will gain more conscious choice about how we handle our social and personal relationships.

Voices in the Media

I like to keep my ears open when listening to the radio or watching TV and catch the phrases that indicate different selves are speaking. Phrases such as: “Part of me is quite sympathetic to your ideas, but practically I can’t agree with you”, “A part of me would rather not be doing this”, “I was beside myself with anger”, “Something just took me over and before I knew it I was telling him exactly what I thought of him. I felt so guilty afterwards”. “I’m in two minds about this”. It’s a fun activity!

Yesterday I heard a couple of interesting ones.

My first example from the BBC concerns New York State Governor Eliot Spitzer who apologised amid allegations of involvement in a prostitution ring. Mr Spitzer was elected governor in November 2006, promising ethical reform in New York. As New York's attorney general, he had become known as the Sheriff of Wall Street for his relentless pursuit of financial wrong-doing. His successes in that battle led Time Magazine to name him "Crusader of the Year" in 2002. Mr Spitzer had also taken a firm line against prostitution in New York. At a press interview he said, "I have disappointed and failed to live up to the standard I expected of myself."

Who is the “I” that expects such high standards of “my self”? It sounds like his ethical “Sheriff of Wall Street” and “Crusader” parts have been primary and pretty much run his public life. But being so identified with them, other selves would naturally have been disowned and relegated to the shadow. My guess is that the “I” that has “disappointed and failed to live up to the standard” is one such part. It sounds like it has been operating behind the scenes and just got him into a lot of trouble! If I were doing a Voice Dialogue session with Mr Spitzer I would first ask to speak to his primary ethical parts (his Sheriff and Crusader) and help him value and separate from them. Then, when appropriate, we might talk to the one that really doesn’t care about ethics and wants to be more self-centered and have fun - the one that got him involved in prostitution. His task would then be to stand between them with more selves-awareness and make more conscious choices about his behaviour.

The second example comes from a Channel 4 TV broadcast about a shocking series of teenage suicides in Wales. Local youth workers are receiving training in identifying and coaching young people most at risk of committing suicide. There was a brief extract where the trainer said, “These teens don’t want to kill themselves, just the part of them that is miserable and unhappy”. I wonder if Voice Dialogue could play a part in helping these young people and the professionals who are trying to help them.

If you hear any other examples in the media or elsewhere please post them here!

Sitting with my Selves

I have had quite an interesting time getting started on this blog. I have to admit that I have never kept a blog before (do you keep a blog like you keep a diary?). Parts of me are quite resistant to the idea. They are telling me things like, “What have you got to say that anyone would be interested in?”, “It will take so much time and effort to maintain it!”, “What will happen if someone doesn’t like what you write?!”, “It is too public and you will be so exposed. It could cause you a lot of embarrassment.”

On the other side are the voices of encouragement and action, “If you are serious about setting up this Voice Dialogue UK website then let’s get on with it!”, “You are knowledgeable in this work and good at it and now is the time to put it out there”, “You should have the courage of your convictions!”, “Who cares if people don’t like something you write. If you have something to say, say it!”

Here I am sitting between these various opposites ‘sweating the choice’ as Hal says. On the one side I feel the voices that would have me keep my head down, not risk upsetting anyone and stay relatively hidden. At their core are some sensitive and vulnerable selves that fear not being liked, or that I will make a fool of myself. They are the softer energies. On the other are stronger energies – the action selves that would have me boldly go out into the world, be confident, take the challenge.

Of course, each of those voices is right in its own terms. My task is to listen to them all and make a conscious choice.

So, having checked in with them, I have decided to begin writing this blog using some of the energy of my confident selves but also with one arm around the more fearful parts of me. I don’t know how it will unfold and where it will lead, but I have finally made a start. My sense is of being at the wheel of a bus full of an amazing array of characters setting out on a journey. It is quite an old, but sturdy bus. There is a lot of noise and chatter from everyone. They all have their own agendas, concerns, points of view, needs and hopes. My job is to keep the bus on the road and make sure that everyone is heard, valued and included as we trundle along.

So, all aboard! Off we go, destination unknown. Will you join me for the ride?

Cross-Cultural Communication and the Psychology of Selves

Cross-cultural communication seminars have become fashionable over the past few years. They provide participants with a wealth of information about the target culture - historical, social, political and economic. Driven by the imperatives of an increasingly interdependent global community, people are becoming more knowledgeable about other cultures than ever before.

And yet, armed with all this information about the target culture, is the businessman or woman really prepared for the experience of dealing with people who may have very different attitudes, values and belief systems? Here, intellectual knowledge is not enough. We need practical tools and skills to handle our emotional reaction to that which is strange, unexpected, bizarre or shocking. We may have great products or services, a great price and a great potential market. But if we cannot deal with the psychological dimension of cross-cultural communication, getting a sale can prove very hard.

In the course of travelling and living in a variety of different cultures and helping individuals who wish to communicate with others outside of their cultural milieu, I have discovered a new meaning to the term cross-cultural. I believe it covers a wide spectrum of which the international dimension is just a small (although probably the most visible) part. At its most basic level it is about intra-personal communication - how we relate to the inner cast of characters (or selves) that make up our psyche. The next step is the inter-personal - how our inner selves communication with those of other people. Expanding from this we have inter-group, inter-departmental, intra-corporate, inter-corporate, inter-regional, inter-racial, and international.

I have come to understand that no matter where our focus of attention is on this spectrum, the same basic principles apply. They are described in the concept of The Psychology of Selves. This model provides us with a new paradigm for facilitating cross-cultural exchanges - one that takes us to a meta-level understanding of what is going on when people with different cultural backgrounds try to communicate with each other. The concept includes the following ideas:

1. We are all (no matter what culture we are raised in) multiple personalities (sometimes called selves, sub-personalities, parts, complexes, I's, or energy patterns). We commonly express this in phrases such as, "A part of me wants to do this and a part of me wants to do that; and a part of me doesn't know what I want to do!"

2. Our culture and early socialization process encourages us to develop some of these selves strongly. These become our primary selves. Different cultures develop different primary selves. For example, white North American culture tends to develop a Pusher self that makes people work hard, a Scheduler self that gives a high priority to time and structure, and an Intellectual self that places a high value on the rational and analytical. Each self is distinct and autonomous.

3. For every primary self with which we are identified, there are one or more disowned selves of equal and opposite energy. Although these are not encouraged to develop by the culture in which we have been raised, they still exist at a subconscious level. For example, the disowned energies corresponding to the primary selves above would be a Take-it-easy self, a Go-with-the-flow unstructured self, and an Emotional or Intuitive self.

4. Each disowned self is projected onto some person or some thing or some culture.

5. The individuals and cultures of the world that we judge, reject and hate, or, conversely those we overvalue, can be seen as direct representations of our disowned selves.

6. Each person or culture we judge, reject and hate, or, each person or culture we overvalue, is a potential teacher for us. In order to learn from these disowned selves, we need to step back and see how the basis of our reaction is in fact a disowned part of us.

These principles can be seen at work most clearly in the stereotypes we use to describe other cultures. “Those Mexican are so lazy” does not really tell us too much about Mexicans - who would describe themselves as “easy going.” But it does indicate that whoever says this has a strong Pusher as a primary self. “Those Italians are so emotional” tells us that the speaker is identified with a Rational primary self. It thus becomes clear how another culture can hold the disowned aspects of our own. Mr. Nakasone, a former Prime minister of Japan, once said at an international forum, "The Unites States and Japan are like a husband and wife". This is a very exact metaphor; in marriage our partner frequently holds our own disowned selves - which is why we find them at times both attractive and irritating!

Cross-cultural training should more appropriately start with these meta-level understandings of the dynamics of intra-personal and interpersonal communication. It should encourage the perspective that all inter-cultural interaction is a potential learning experience - not just about the other culture, but most of all about our own. To modify an old adage, we should "know our selves ".

Being able to embrace all our many and varied selves gives us a powerful tool for dealing with any inter-personal, inter-cultural situation: conscious choice. Without choice we risk being run by the autopilot of our primary selves and locking others into stereotypes.

It is the ability to see the other in us that most enhances international business communication. Our intellectual knowledge of other cultures becomes much more meaningful when built on the experience of our many selves within.