"Our" Story: Awakening in Community
by David Goff, Ph.D.,
A Foundation for Interdependence,
Palo Alto, CA
As a psychotherapist I occupy a unique position in our culture. Daily I sit with ordinary people who are struggling to make their lives meaningful and healthy. I experience the heroism of everyday people working hard to be whole, to love and be loved, to make a place for themselves in life. They tell me their stories and show me their pain and self-doubt. As I listen, hour by hour, I have come to realize I am not just hearing isolated, individual stories but "our" story — a story of humanity's shared suffering.
This realization hit hard. I was trained to believe that my clients' problems were theirs alone. My job was to help them change themselves so that they could participate in the "good life" that our culture offers. For many years I was content to believe that the sad, painful and often tragic stories I heard were the result of broken families, disastrous relationships, careless parenting and addictive substances. Today, I know differently. Now I know that much of the pain and unhappiness I hear is a direct result of the kind of society we have become.
To illustrate how my understanding changed I offer you "The Parable of the Downstreamers." This story describes the way I once saw things, a way that kept me from hearing the larger story that my clients were telling.
It was many years ago that villagers of Downstream recall spotting the first body in the river. Some old timers remember how spartan were the facilities and procedures for managing that sort of thing. Sometimes, they say, it would take hours to pull 10 people from the river, and even then only a few would recover.
Though the number of victims in the river has increased greatly in recent years, the folks of Downstream have responded admirably to the challenge. Their rescue system is clearly second to none: most people discovered in the swirling waters are reached within 20 minutes — many less than 10. Only a small number drown each day before help arrives — a big improvement from the way it used to be.
Talk to the people of Downstream and they'll speak with pride about the new hospital by the edge of the waters, the flotilla of rescue boats ready for service at a moment's notice, the comprehensive health plans for coordinating all the manpower involved, and the large numbers of highly trained and dedicated swimmers already to risk their lives to save victims from the raging currents. Sure it costs a lot but, say the Downstreamers, what else can decent people do except to provide whatever is necessary when human lives are at stake.
Oh, a few people in Downstream have raised the question now and again — "What's going on Upstream? Why are these bodies in the river at all?" But most folks show little interest in what's happening Upstream. It seems there's so much to do to help those in the river that nobody's got time to check how all those bodies are getting there in the first place. That's the way things are sometimes.*
That's the way things were for me too. Like most other helping professionals, I had been trained to be a good downstreamer. I worked hard to salvage people's lives. I was proud; after all, I was helping people turn their lives around. I did so without really questioning what was going on upstream — without really wondering if there were other causes for this suffering and pain.
It wasn't until I began to sit with circles of people that I began realizing that there was something going on upstream that I should pay attention to. About ten years ago I started acting on a lifelong interest in community. I sought out people who were interested in a shared sense of belonging. We began to meet on a regular basis to get to know each other, explore our differences and seek for common ground upon which we could create a sense of connection. In the process we told each other our stories — the stories of our pasts and the stories we were currently living.
As we began to trust each other, we started sharing the places where our stories made no sense to us, where we didn't know what to do, where we were feeling hopeless and lost. We recognized how we had isolated ourselves by hiding these aspects of our experience. And we recognized how close we felt to each other when we began to let these parts of our lives become known. We literally stumbled onto common ground when we saw that our personal uncertainties reflected the vulnerability of human existence. Our great discovery was that when we shared this vulnerability we felt a sense of communion — not only more connected to each other, but also more connected with ourselves and with the world we lived in.
It was at this point that I began to experience a change in my outlook. My new awareness — that what my clients and I suffered was utterly human — had a profound impact upon me. I began to look more deeply at what was going on in my office. What I discovered was troubling. I began to see how much I was operating like a Downstreamer. I saw that much of my clients' suffering was caused by social isolation, the pretense of wholeness, and the secrecy of self-doubt and uncertainty.
I saw that a lot of suffering was generated Upstream, by the cultural values we hold and the social conditions within which we abide. I realized that the way I practiced had a tendency to reinforce my clients' shame and isolation. I began to see how my Downstream approach was ineffective at relieving some forms of suffering. It perpetuated the very conditions which were causing that suffering. I knew I had to consider what was going on Upstream.
Looking at the way we as a species treat each other and our planet is not easy. In fact it is intensely uncomfortable. I found that opening myself and really paying attention to what is going on around me — the homelessness, violence, crime, poverty, bigotry and unemployment — is very frightening. Even more frightening is the degredation of our environment — the dumping of toxic chemicals, the pollution of our watersheds and the stripping of the forests. Viewing these facts of modern life is painful and overwhelming. When I tried to talk with others about what I perceived I had the most frightening experience of all. No one wanted to talk about it. This evoked powerful feelings of loneliness, despair and hopelessness. I knew I would collapse under the weight of this awareness if I did not find a new way of responding to what I saw.
I began to search for a response to what I saw going on upstream. To adequately respond I needed to know more information and I needed allies. Having learned so much in my community circle I turned toward this group. I began by sharing with them this latest turn in my story. I shared what I was seeing, the feelings that were aroused and my anxiety about the future. I asked them how they thought and felt about what was going on. This began a process of opening up our hearts and minds to what was going on around us as well as what was going on within us. We extended our concerns to include the homeless, the dispossessed and those without voices, such as the animals, rivers, trees and future generations. Looking upstream together, our sense of community expanded.
And so did a new degree of painful self-awareness and responsibility. We saw that the stream was like the circle we sat in: we were not only Downstreamers, we were also those caught in the stream and we were the Upstreamers. We began to face the reality that our choices and actions were contributing to the social and environmental problems we saw. This realization brought on a new stage in the development of our community. We became activists. We began to look at how we could change our own behavior and how we could support the call for change that was coming from those who were environmentally ill, impoverished, and un-cared for. Knowing more and doing things differently led us to begin to feel more alive and hopeful. By becoming more responsive to the despair and outrage we felt as we looked Upstream, we discovered new parts of ourselves and our capacity to make a difference Downstream.
This experience changed the way I live and the way I work. Now when I sit with clients I ask them questions about their feelings about environmental degradation, their sensitivities to chemicals, their patterns of consumption, how they participate in the economy. I encourage them to look at how they feel about what is going on around them and how they are responding to what they perceive.
In addition to working with individuals, couples and families, I now offer what I call learning communities. These are groups for people who want to learn how to create a sense of community. In these groups we share our sense of personal vulnerability and we share our concerns about what is going on in the world. We look at how to protect ourselves and our families from the cultural pressures that impact upon our lives. We also examine our lifestyle choices for ways to improve the quality of the impact we have upon others. We support each other in awakening to the dangers Upstream. We begin to discover our responsibilities as Upstreamers.
Learning together has had many advantages. That makes the effort to create learning communities worth it. It is easy to get overwhelmed when you first begin to recognize the social and economic forces that are abusing our environment and driving us away from each other. This awareness arouses strong emotional responses. It is easier to bear this painful awareness when it is shared. It is easier to stay open to reality when you are not isolated by these disturbing truths Upstream awareness also begs for a response: our hearts and minds cry out "something must be done!"
The forces operating upstream however, are enormous. Just being a good Downstreamer isn't enough. To really make a difference we have to act in concert. We need each other to learn how to make a difference, to support each other as we act, to sustain an effort that will take time, to celebrate our successes, to console each other over our failures, to love each other for caring enough to continue trying.
Today, thanks to those who have shared their vulnerability, doubt, courage, love and wisdom with me, I am aware, as I listen to my clients' stories, that I am hearing "our" story unfold. It is the story of our participation as a species in the stream of life. It reveals our efforts to avoid feeling the vulnerability that is part of the natural fragility and interdependence of our existence. It reminds us how we have cut ourselves off from our selves, each other and nature. It is a sometimes painful and tragic story, that is still unfolding, that can change.
How can this change occur? I changed because I extended my circle of caring. I did this by sharing my story and listening deeply to the stories of others. By entering into community I found a place where I could learn more about my self, humankind and our relationship to this living breathing planet. I found a place where I could share the struggle for a meaningful and hospitable future. And, perhaps most importantly, I found that with these others, I could make a difference.
You can have this same experience. Find or create a group of people who would like to feel a sense of community in their lives. Listen to their stories. Tell them yours. Share the unfinished, uncertain, lost and confused parts of your stories, as well as the happier parts. Show each other your vulnerability. Sit together and feel the preciousness and fragility of your time on this planet. Feel the delicacy of life itself. Tell each other about what matters to you, about your emotional responses to what is going on around you. Look at what you know and what you don't know. Pay attention to your impact upon the others in your community as well as your impact upon our environment. Make choices about how you live. Act on behalf of all life. As you do, you will be transforming our story and giving our children's children a chance to tell their stories.
* The Parable of the Downstreamers is by Donald Ardell, from High Level Wellness: An Alternative to Doctors, Drugs and Disease)
David Goff, Ph.D., is co-founder, with Cynthia McReynolds, M.A., of A Foundation for Interdependence. They offer learning communities to support personal development and cultural transformation. They also consult with businesses, schools and non-profit organizations. For further information about the foundations programs and resource materials send a self addressed, self-stamped envelope to A Foundation for Interdependence, 470 San Antonio Road, Suite M, Palo Alto, CA. 94306. You can also reach them at (415) 856-7853 or by email at dg@interdependence.edu.
Other resources that support the development of community and cultural awareness include;
The Foundation for Community Encouragement (founded by Dr. Scott Peck), 109 Danbury Road,
Suite 8, Ridgefield, CT 06887, (203) 431-9484.
International Society for Ecology and Culture, P.O. Box 9475, Berkeley, CA. 94709
The following books and periodicals are also recommended;
The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace, by M. Scott Peck, (1987) by Simon & Schuster.
The Shelter of Each Other, by Mary Pipher, (1996) published by Grosset/Putnam.
In The Company of Others: Making Community in the Modern World, ed. by Claude Whitmyer, (1994) published by Jeremy Tarcher.
Sitting In The Fire, by Arnold Mindell, (1996) published by Lao Tse Press.
The Responsive Community (quarterly journal) write or call
714 Gelman Library
George Washington University
Washington, DC 20052 800/245-7460
by David Goff, Ph.D.,
A Foundation for Interdependence,
Palo Alto, CA
As a psychotherapist I occupy a unique position in our culture. Daily I sit with ordinary people who are struggling to make their lives meaningful and healthy. I experience the heroism of everyday people working hard to be whole, to love and be loved, to make a place for themselves in life. They tell me their stories and show me their pain and self-doubt. As I listen, hour by hour, I have come to realize I am not just hearing isolated, individual stories but "our" story — a story of humanity's shared suffering.
This realization hit hard. I was trained to believe that my clients' problems were theirs alone. My job was to help them change themselves so that they could participate in the "good life" that our culture offers. For many years I was content to believe that the sad, painful and often tragic stories I heard were the result of broken families, disastrous relationships, careless parenting and addictive substances. Today, I know differently. Now I know that much of the pain and unhappiness I hear is a direct result of the kind of society we have become.
To illustrate how my understanding changed I offer you "The Parable of the Downstreamers." This story describes the way I once saw things, a way that kept me from hearing the larger story that my clients were telling.
It was many years ago that villagers of Downstream recall spotting the first body in the river. Some old timers remember how spartan were the facilities and procedures for managing that sort of thing. Sometimes, they say, it would take hours to pull 10 people from the river, and even then only a few would recover.
Though the number of victims in the river has increased greatly in recent years, the folks of Downstream have responded admirably to the challenge. Their rescue system is clearly second to none: most people discovered in the swirling waters are reached within 20 minutes — many less than 10. Only a small number drown each day before help arrives — a big improvement from the way it used to be.
Talk to the people of Downstream and they'll speak with pride about the new hospital by the edge of the waters, the flotilla of rescue boats ready for service at a moment's notice, the comprehensive health plans for coordinating all the manpower involved, and the large numbers of highly trained and dedicated swimmers already to risk their lives to save victims from the raging currents. Sure it costs a lot but, say the Downstreamers, what else can decent people do except to provide whatever is necessary when human lives are at stake.
Oh, a few people in Downstream have raised the question now and again — "What's going on Upstream? Why are these bodies in the river at all?" But most folks show little interest in what's happening Upstream. It seems there's so much to do to help those in the river that nobody's got time to check how all those bodies are getting there in the first place. That's the way things are sometimes.*
That's the way things were for me too. Like most other helping professionals, I had been trained to be a good downstreamer. I worked hard to salvage people's lives. I was proud; after all, I was helping people turn their lives around. I did so without really questioning what was going on upstream — without really wondering if there were other causes for this suffering and pain.
It wasn't until I began to sit with circles of people that I began realizing that there was something going on upstream that I should pay attention to. About ten years ago I started acting on a lifelong interest in community. I sought out people who were interested in a shared sense of belonging. We began to meet on a regular basis to get to know each other, explore our differences and seek for common ground upon which we could create a sense of connection. In the process we told each other our stories — the stories of our pasts and the stories we were currently living.
As we began to trust each other, we started sharing the places where our stories made no sense to us, where we didn't know what to do, where we were feeling hopeless and lost. We recognized how we had isolated ourselves by hiding these aspects of our experience. And we recognized how close we felt to each other when we began to let these parts of our lives become known. We literally stumbled onto common ground when we saw that our personal uncertainties reflected the vulnerability of human existence. Our great discovery was that when we shared this vulnerability we felt a sense of communion — not only more connected to each other, but also more connected with ourselves and with the world we lived in.
It was at this point that I began to experience a change in my outlook. My new awareness — that what my clients and I suffered was utterly human — had a profound impact upon me. I began to look more deeply at what was going on in my office. What I discovered was troubling. I began to see how much I was operating like a Downstreamer. I saw that much of my clients' suffering was caused by social isolation, the pretense of wholeness, and the secrecy of self-doubt and uncertainty.
I saw that a lot of suffering was generated Upstream, by the cultural values we hold and the social conditions within which we abide. I realized that the way I practiced had a tendency to reinforce my clients' shame and isolation. I began to see how my Downstream approach was ineffective at relieving some forms of suffering. It perpetuated the very conditions which were causing that suffering. I knew I had to consider what was going on Upstream.
Looking at the way we as a species treat each other and our planet is not easy. In fact it is intensely uncomfortable. I found that opening myself and really paying attention to what is going on around me — the homelessness, violence, crime, poverty, bigotry and unemployment — is very frightening. Even more frightening is the degredation of our environment — the dumping of toxic chemicals, the pollution of our watersheds and the stripping of the forests. Viewing these facts of modern life is painful and overwhelming. When I tried to talk with others about what I perceived I had the most frightening experience of all. No one wanted to talk about it. This evoked powerful feelings of loneliness, despair and hopelessness. I knew I would collapse under the weight of this awareness if I did not find a new way of responding to what I saw.
I began to search for a response to what I saw going on upstream. To adequately respond I needed to know more information and I needed allies. Having learned so much in my community circle I turned toward this group. I began by sharing with them this latest turn in my story. I shared what I was seeing, the feelings that were aroused and my anxiety about the future. I asked them how they thought and felt about what was going on. This began a process of opening up our hearts and minds to what was going on around us as well as what was going on within us. We extended our concerns to include the homeless, the dispossessed and those without voices, such as the animals, rivers, trees and future generations. Looking upstream together, our sense of community expanded.
And so did a new degree of painful self-awareness and responsibility. We saw that the stream was like the circle we sat in: we were not only Downstreamers, we were also those caught in the stream and we were the Upstreamers. We began to face the reality that our choices and actions were contributing to the social and environmental problems we saw. This realization brought on a new stage in the development of our community. We became activists. We began to look at how we could change our own behavior and how we could support the call for change that was coming from those who were environmentally ill, impoverished, and un-cared for. Knowing more and doing things differently led us to begin to feel more alive and hopeful. By becoming more responsive to the despair and outrage we felt as we looked Upstream, we discovered new parts of ourselves and our capacity to make a difference Downstream.
This experience changed the way I live and the way I work. Now when I sit with clients I ask them questions about their feelings about environmental degradation, their sensitivities to chemicals, their patterns of consumption, how they participate in the economy. I encourage them to look at how they feel about what is going on around them and how they are responding to what they perceive.
In addition to working with individuals, couples and families, I now offer what I call learning communities. These are groups for people who want to learn how to create a sense of community. In these groups we share our sense of personal vulnerability and we share our concerns about what is going on in the world. We look at how to protect ourselves and our families from the cultural pressures that impact upon our lives. We also examine our lifestyle choices for ways to improve the quality of the impact we have upon others. We support each other in awakening to the dangers Upstream. We begin to discover our responsibilities as Upstreamers.
Learning together has had many advantages. That makes the effort to create learning communities worth it. It is easy to get overwhelmed when you first begin to recognize the social and economic forces that are abusing our environment and driving us away from each other. This awareness arouses strong emotional responses. It is easier to bear this painful awareness when it is shared. It is easier to stay open to reality when you are not isolated by these disturbing truths Upstream awareness also begs for a response: our hearts and minds cry out "something must be done!"
The forces operating upstream however, are enormous. Just being a good Downstreamer isn't enough. To really make a difference we have to act in concert. We need each other to learn how to make a difference, to support each other as we act, to sustain an effort that will take time, to celebrate our successes, to console each other over our failures, to love each other for caring enough to continue trying.
Today, thanks to those who have shared their vulnerability, doubt, courage, love and wisdom with me, I am aware, as I listen to my clients' stories, that I am hearing "our" story unfold. It is the story of our participation as a species in the stream of life. It reveals our efforts to avoid feeling the vulnerability that is part of the natural fragility and interdependence of our existence. It reminds us how we have cut ourselves off from our selves, each other and nature. It is a sometimes painful and tragic story, that is still unfolding, that can change.
How can this change occur? I changed because I extended my circle of caring. I did this by sharing my story and listening deeply to the stories of others. By entering into community I found a place where I could learn more about my self, humankind and our relationship to this living breathing planet. I found a place where I could share the struggle for a meaningful and hospitable future. And, perhaps most importantly, I found that with these others, I could make a difference.
You can have this same experience. Find or create a group of people who would like to feel a sense of community in their lives. Listen to their stories. Tell them yours. Share the unfinished, uncertain, lost and confused parts of your stories, as well as the happier parts. Show each other your vulnerability. Sit together and feel the preciousness and fragility of your time on this planet. Feel the delicacy of life itself. Tell each other about what matters to you, about your emotional responses to what is going on around you. Look at what you know and what you don't know. Pay attention to your impact upon the others in your community as well as your impact upon our environment. Make choices about how you live. Act on behalf of all life. As you do, you will be transforming our story and giving our children's children a chance to tell their stories.
* The Parable of the Downstreamers is by Donald Ardell, from High Level Wellness: An Alternative to Doctors, Drugs and Disease)
David Goff, Ph.D., is co-founder, with Cynthia McReynolds, M.A., of A Foundation for Interdependence. They offer learning communities to support personal development and cultural transformation. They also consult with businesses, schools and non-profit organizations. For further information about the foundations programs and resource materials send a self addressed, self-stamped envelope to A Foundation for Interdependence, 470 San Antonio Road, Suite M, Palo Alto, CA. 94306. You can also reach them at (415) 856-7853 or by email at dg@interdependence.edu.
Other resources that support the development of community and cultural awareness include;
The Foundation for Community Encouragement (founded by Dr. Scott Peck), 109 Danbury Road,
Suite 8, Ridgefield, CT 06887, (203) 431-9484.
International Society for Ecology and Culture, P.O. Box 9475, Berkeley, CA. 94709
The following books and periodicals are also recommended;
The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace, by M. Scott Peck, (1987) by Simon & Schuster.
The Shelter of Each Other, by Mary Pipher, (1996) published by Grosset/Putnam.
In The Company of Others: Making Community in the Modern World, ed. by Claude Whitmyer, (1994) published by Jeremy Tarcher.
Sitting In The Fire, by Arnold Mindell, (1996) published by Lao Tse Press.
The Responsive Community (quarterly journal) write or call
714 Gelman Library
George Washington University
Washington, DC 20052 800/245-7460
