SEEING PATTERNS, NOT JUST COLORS

Like a paint by number painting, our relationships, and relational conflict, follow predictable patterns. We change the colors, have an informed opinion about the colors, and end up in emotionally entangled arguments about the colors. But we miss the reality that we often are painting the same patterns over and over. We are simply painting the same patterns with different colors.

If we don’t’ see the relational patterns in our lives and work, we are tempted to believe we need a new palette. New colors will produce a new painting, a better painting. But what we will realize with time is that we recreate the same pattern, only with different colors. It is not until we begin to do the inner work of being aware of our predictable patterns in relationships that we will see a different outcome.

Our pattern maybe we eject from a relationship because getting too close creates anxiety in us. Or we smother the other in relationship because getting too much distance creates anxiety in us. We may find fault in the system that is overly organized, or find fault in the environment that is overly relational. What we miss is how unconsciously we rehearse the same script, and paint the same relational patterns.

The first step in beginning to see patterns, not just colors, in relationships is being inquisitive. There is a security required in curiosity. Trust is what invites us to explore what beneath our family trees and hidden among the patterns of our lives. I believe curiosity combats anxiety. It admits, by its nature, there are layers and levels it does not yet know. Children are by nature curious. They ask why more times than a parent can almost stand. But their inquisitive nature is the wiring required for learning. The same is true for us. We need to relearn how to be inquisitive about who we are. Curiosity begins by asking good questions. 

The simplest, and most effective, line of questioning I have found is, the “5 Whys”. Asking the question “why?” five times - each time using the answer of the previous question to frame the next question. This begins to illuminate thoughts and feelings protected by patterns we’ve learned over the years. By the third or fourth “why?” we are exposing vulnerable areas where the patterns of how we think, feel, and act are drawn.  

I recently practiced the “5 Whys” while at breakfast with a friend. He revealed a storm was brewing at home with his ongoing opposition to his wife’s work. It began with the first “why” about the nature of her work. After the third “why?” it was becoming clear that he wanted her to be at home. He grew up with a single mother who was always working. The colors had changed. The pattern remained the same. By the fifth “why?” he vulnerably acknowledged he missed her when she was away. I asked how the conversation about her work could be different if he began with, “I miss you when you’re at work.” His grin hinted at how the pattern could be redrawn towards intimacy instead of instigating another argument.

The patterns we know draw the lines we follow. Our patterns work for us, for the most part. They are based on what we know and they are what we’ve used to survive. But our patterns also fail us. They become the predictable parts of who we are that we can no longer see. We can change our context, but our relational conflicts remain hidden behind the different colors. The “5 Whys” strategy sees patterns beneath the colors and is used by companies and counselors alike. The line of questions asks us to look beneath the circumstances to the operating systems we instinctively follow.

When we begin to see patterns, we can begin to choose to change them. We can draw new lines. Lines based on a greater awareness of what works for our benefit and the benefit of those around us. We identify a relational conflict as it begins to emerge because we recognize the pattern, regardless of the color or context in may be in. We now have the choice of pattern and palette.

As you begin to see the patterns more clearly in your relationships, you begin to see them emerge in every relationship. The author Frederick Buchner writes, “The story of any one of us is the story of us all.” Every person has relational patterns. Our hope is to grow in awareness and invite others to the process of seeing patterns, not just colors.  

No longer painting the same old patterns, we now cultivate relationships with newfound curiosity. It begins with seeing patterns in the world inside us and then around us. Each day we practice tracing new lines of relational renewal. Our relationships are secure enough to creatively explore new conversations. Relational health is a never-ending adventure. But we can let the kids use the color by number books, and we can choose to create something unique and beautiful with the relationships in our lives.

 

QUESTIONS:

What patterns in relationships have you covered up by simply changing colors?
What lines were drawn in your family of origin that you often unconsciously paint by?
How would have seeing the patterns, not just the colors, impacted the last relational conflict you were in? What relational lines could you redraw to begin to be free to create with new patterns and palette?

READING:

Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Pete Scazzero
A Failure of Nerve, Edwin Friedman
Managing Leadership Anxiety, Steve Cuss

WE WILL REINHALE WHAT WE EXHALE

Jesus assures us that the measure we measure out is the measure that we ourselves will receive in return. In essence, that says that the air we breather out will be the air we will reinhale. That is not just true ecologically. It is a broad truth for life in general. If we breathe out miserliness, we will reinhale miserliness; if we breathe out pettiness, we will breath in pettiness; if we breather out bitterness, then bitterness will be the air that surrounds us; and if we breather out a sense of scarcity that makes us calculate and be fearful, then calculation and fearfulness will be the air we reinhale. But if, aware of God’s abundance, we breathe out generosity and forgiveness, we will breath in the air of generosity and forgiveness. We will reinhale what we exhale.

Ronald Rolheiser
Sacred Fire

HOLY SATURDAY

Most of our lives are spent in Holy Saturday. In other words, most of our days are not filled with the unbearable pain of a Good Friday. Nor are they suffused with the unbelievable joy of an Easter. Some days are indeed times of great pain and some are of great joy, but most are…in between.

Most are, in fact, times of waiting, as the disciples waited during Holy Saturday. We’re waiting. Waiting to get into a good school. Waiting to meet the right person. Waiting to get pregnant. Waiting to get a job. Waiting for things at work to improve Waiting for diagnosis from the doctor. Waiting for life just to get better. But there are different kinds of waiting.

There is the wait of despair. Here we know - at least we think we know - that things could never get better, that God could never do anything with our situations. This may be the kind of waiting that forced the fearful disciples to hide behind closed doors on Holy Saturday, cowering in terror. Of course they could be forgiven; after Jesus was executed they were in danger of being rounded up and executed by the Roman authorities. (Something tells me, though, that the women disciples, who overall proved themselves better friends than the men during the Passion, were more hopeful.)

Then there is the wait of passivity, as if everything were up to “fate.” In this waiting there is no despair, but not much anticipation of anything good either. 

Finally, there is wait of the Christian, which is called hope. It is an active waiting; it knows that, even in the worst of situations, even in the darkest times, God is at work. Even if we can’t see it clearly right now. The disciples’ fear was understandable, but we, who know how the story turned out, who know that Jesus will rise from the dead, who know that God is with us, who know that nothing will be impossible for God, are called to wait in faithful hope. And to look carefully for signs of the new life that are always right around the corner - just like they were on Holy Saturday.

James Martin, SJ