The Conscious Heart (5 page)

“Today I can admit that when Chris was born—with forceps and considerable loss of blood—my first thought was ‘Oh, now I have two children to raise.’ I felt totally abandoned during the event where I most needed support. If I had known how angry I was, I might have been able to reach out and reconnect. But in that moment I had already left, although it took me another year to make the move. One afternoon I came home from college after picking up Chris from day care. I was very excited about a new book I was reading in my sociology class, and I had bubbled on about it for a couple of minutes, when Chris’s father said, ‘I’m not interested in reading, and I’m not interested in hearing about all these theories.’ That was it; my inner voice said, ‘Get out of here or die.’ I got out.

“Chris journeyed with me through those early turbulent years of short-term relationships with a variety of men, many of whom
bailed out at the prospect of having a young child around full-time. I knew that if I wasn’t growing, I couldn’t give anything of value to Chris, and I wasn’t ready to give up before I’d even lived. The challenge of essentially raising both of us forged independence, resilience, and innovation out of unformed potential. It was with Chris that I first practiced the relationship skills that have evolved into
The Conscious Heart
. Many times I had conversations with him about what I was feeling and asked him what he was feeling. He helped me stop smoking when he was five. By the time he entered school, he could easily ask, ‘Mommy, are you sad today?’ or talk about how his friends sounded when they were hiding something or needing a hug.

“What saved us in many frustrating situations was sharing what was true for each of us. Chris could call my bluff and demand to be heard with great courage and vulnerability. He became interested in body language and the nuances of behavior, parallel with Dungeons and Dragons and martial arts. Until I met Gay, Chris was my primary relationship, the one I protected and nurtured with every faculty I possessed. I had adult partners, but until I found my essence-partner, I hadn’t committed to a primary relationship where Chris could revolve as a constellation. Until Gay, there had been no choice; Chris was the hub.

“My relationship mythology didn’t fall away quickly. I had learned, as many women do, to look for others’ approval to validate my worth. I had consolidated my early reading, experiences, and observations into a personal comic-book version of Super-woman: the heroine who can do everything and still be feminine and totally responsive to her mate’s every need. My fierce independence contained a trap, though. I was raising Chris, maintaining a private practice in movement therapy, going to graduate school, cleaning the house, making gourmet meals, and sewing original creations—all without looking too closely at what I really wanted. No wonder I sometimes got resentful, but I would turn my anger against myself for not living up to my personal myth.

“Gradually I learned that I could want, that I could ask for
what I wanted and could learn from that choice. I love to be stretched emotionally, cognitively, physically, all ways, and I turned toward lessons like a heliotrope. Each one of my relationship decisions, even the steps backward, led me closer to the moment in that graduate school class when Gay and I recognized each other and I came home.”

Gay continues: “It was the truth-withholding pattern that finally brought my five-year relationship to a crisis point. Often my partner would not tell me the truth about some significant issue, then would start finding fault with me. I would get rattled, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong, only to find out later that her hypercriticalness was coming from a withheld truth on her part. I realized that I had encountered this pattern before, in one of my first significant relationships, when I was in my early twenties. My partner had suddenly one day become suspicious—to the point of paranoia—that I was having an affair with another woman. This went on for the better part of a month, with many heated denials on my part. Later it turned out that she had indulged in a one-nighter while she was away at a conference and had not confessed this to me. The guilt had eaten away at her, inspiring her suspiciousness, until the truth came out.

“Shortly before my moment of ‘waking up’ in 1979, my partner had become erratic and critical, which was puzzling to me because we had been getting along quite well. Then, by accident, I learned that she had started smoking again on the sly—an addiction that had previously caused many a rift between us. She had hidden it from me for several months. When the truth came out, I discovered that her smoking coincided with her erratic and critical behavior toward me. This was indeed a hot-button: My mother’s tobacco addiction had eventually killed her.

“For my part, I had indulged in some sex play in my office with a graduate student late one night. Naturally, I had failed to mention this to my partner, justifying my withholding of the truth because the woman and I hadn’t ‘gone all the way.’ Could it be, I wondered, that all our problems stemmed from truths we were withholding from each other?

“As I sat on the floor of my office thinking all of this over, I decided to do something radical. Instead of blaming my partner or defending myself in any way, I decided to accept responsibility for everything. Instead of thinking of myself as the victim of a world full of cheating, lying, smoking women, I simply accepted that I had created, chosen, and perpetuated these relationships through the power of my programming.

“I made a vow: I would tell the truth from then on in my close relationships, and I would take full responsibility for any problem that was occurring. Rather than argue about whose fault any problem was, I would take responsibility for it and ask the other person to do the same. If the other person was not willing to tell the truth and take responsibility, I would get out immediately.

“I stood up a changed man. I felt years younger, pounds lighter. I put my decision into action immediately. I walked to my partner’s house and said we needed to talk. I told her of my experience and asked her if she would be interested in having a relationship in which we told the truth, took full personal responsibility, and turned our attention to creative expression rather than quarreling. I felt calm, clear, energized, and full of confidence.

“I was shocked when she said no. No? It seemed like such a great idea! How could she say no? Then she told me why, and the reason shook me deeply then and still saddens me nearly two decades later. She told me that we could have a successful relationship only if I were willing not only to take all the responsibility for our problems but also to admit that she was right and I was wrong. She said she had no responsibility, that it was all my fault, that she saw no connection between her lying and our problems, and that given a choice between me and smoking, she would take the Marlboros and not the man. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why would you choose being right over the relationship?’

“Softening a little, she said that she was afraid to look at the pattern in herself. It felt like looking into the abyss. If she had to choose between confronting this fear and sacrificing the relationship, she would let the relationship go. She didn’t feel that she had the courage to do it. ‘That’s the way it is,’ she said. I felt a wave of
grief but also a surge of elation and relief. In that moment every cell in my body said good-bye.

“I ran back to my room and sat down on the floor again. I spent a few minutes quieting myself with slow, deep breaths. Then I had an exhilarating thought: I could design the kind of relationship I wanted! I could think up what I wanted, and if my commitment was strong enough, it would come into being. I quickly sketched out my desires on a piece of paper. I wanted someone who was honest and loving, someone for whom taking responsibility was no struggle. I wanted a woman who would be willing and able to join me in a relationship where both of us expressed our full creativity. I didn’t have any requirements as to size, shape, or age: All I was really interested in was the quality of our ongoing interactions. If there was honesty, if there was responsibility, if there was a mutual commitment to creativity and spiritual growth, I would be happy. I really wanted a spiritual partner for the journey, someone for whom relationship itself could be integral to our unfolding evolution.

“It took me less than ten minutes to clarify what I wanted. Then I added a radical clause: If it was not in the cosmic plan for me to have this high-quality relationship, I would gladly be alone. I vowed never to settle for anything less than what I really wanted, no matter how lonely I might feel. I figured I would be better off by myself than I would be replaying these old dramas for the next fifty years. I vowed this deep in my soul. It was a done deal. I was thirty-four at the time of this decision.

“Within a day or two my commitment was put to the challenge. My former partner appeared at my door and begged me to take her back. She said she would do anything if I would reconsider. She would stop smoking, admit she was wrong, tell the truth—whatever I wanted. She turned on her soul-stirring sexual charms, which had always affected me like a deer in the headlights. But although I was physically turned on, I felt only sadness inside. I knew her change of heart was not authentic, that it was simply a manipulation driven by the fear of loss. I said no and
meant it. I made good on my commitment not to settle for less, and perhaps as a reward and a wink from the universe, a month later I met Kathlyn.

“Our first meeting shines in my memory as one of the most treasured experiences of my life. I had gone to California to teach a workshop for a group of graduate students, about fifty in all. As we began, I looked around the circle to make contact. I have a way of softening my eyes so that I can see the energy-configurations of people rather than their physical appearance. In first meeting people, I can tell more about them from the shimmering of their energy-fields than from anything they may say. In a workshop setting, in which we are going to be dealing with emotional catharsis and other life-changing events, I find this skill very helpful in showing me who will need extra attention, who might be physically sick, and other bits of information.

“As I scanned the circle, my eyes lit on Kathlyn, and she stopped me in my tracks. The pure radiance around her let me know that she had kept her love alive throughout her life. The energy danced vibrantly around her and through her with an exuberance I’d never seen before. I paused to enjoy it for a few seconds. Then I nodded slightly to her as if to say, ‘Well done,’ and moved on around the circle. Using my regular vision, I sneaked another peek and saw to my great pleasure that she was also gorgeous and dressed in a creative, colorful, flowing style that appealed to me. As the morning unfolded, I also found that she laughed at all my jokes, even the obscure ones. Hmm, I thought: ‘She’s beautiful, she has pure energy, and she laughs at my jokes. I need to get to know her a little better.’ ”

Kathlyn recalls meeting Gay: “In January 1980 Gay came to my graduate school to teach a weekend seminar. Before the workshop actually began, I noticed him looking around the circle and was immediately intrigued with his presence and the laserlike quality of his attention. As he glanced at each person around the circle, I could see that he was looking at people’s energy. I sense energy kinesthetically through moving with or taking on people’s
postures, and I was very interested to discover another energy sensor. Gay looked at me and continued past, then came back. So much transpired in those few seconds of eye contact. We exchanged nonverbal acknowledgments of our passion for under-standing how human beings work. I recognized in him a similar curiosity and a similar fierceness.

“As we gazed at each other, I felt a bone-level shift in me, as if he were looking into my poet’s soul. My protected and dormant essence vibrated and expanded infinitely in that moment. The Superwoman myth began to melt, and the quest I began at nine came into reality. I had constructed a maze for potential lovers that no one had ever penetrated until Gay saw so easily into my essence-desire to live whole and in harmony. And I saw the most energetic, funny, spacious being that I’d ever encountered. The resonance of his voice touched and opened my heart and delighted me—still does.”

Gay remembers the next interaction: “During one activity I told her about my experience of her energy-glow during the circle. When she came up to ask a question during a break, I said I’d like to spend some time with her.”

Kathlyn adds: “It sounded like Gay was asking to spend some time with me, but I knew what he was really asking. I immediately forgot my question. It took me about fifteen seconds to respond, ‘How about lunch?’ ”

Gay continues: “She had perceived the connection too and agreed to get sandwiches and deviled eggs from a deli we both liked—Draeger’s, in Menlo Park (which is still thriving and producing the best deviled eggs in the known universe). Over lunch and a subsequent tea a day or two later, I poured out my story and the realizations I had come to. I told her that I had made a total commitment to honesty in every moment, accompanied by a willingness to take full responsibility for any conflict I found myself in. I said that I wanted a relationship in which both people were fully engaged with their creativity and committed to empowering each other to reach their full potential. I asked her if she was interested. She said yes, without hesitation, and in that moment our essence-partnership
began. I felt something relax deep inside me that I think had been tense since I was a child. I had always had a sense that my destiny was a soul-connection with someone, yet part of me feared that I would never have it. Now I had a home to settle into—not a physical home but a home inside myself. And I had someone to share it with.”

Kathlyn says: “I remember how funny you were, how you seemed to turn perceptions askew and show the absurd underside of each. I remember the breadth of your vision, your hunger for possibilities. You were outrageous, saying things I had maybe thought but didn’t dare say and lots of things I didn’t dare think. I remember how big and solid you felt when I first hugged you.