Life Changes through Interconnection

How relationships shape and direct our individual journeys

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To live is to change. The only time change, or adaptation, is finished, is at death, and then only in the sense of being consciously experienced. Once life is complete, our bodies break down and enter into cycles over which we have no control. Notably, the changes that occur post-death also occur relationally, as the stories of who we are become completely cut off from any intentional direction we, often with a great deal of hubris, think we have control over. The stories of who we are to others are disseminated, reflected upon, and shared without any further input by us, though I’d challenge that such isn’t truly all that different when we were alive, as anyone who has dealt with rumors can attest to. The numerous variables that play a role in how we are seen and reacted to while living have simply been reduced by one: our external actions. The stories that people had about us were always there, but now they no longer have to deal with the potential error-correcting experience of our input.

I work with many clients on their relationships, in all forms, personal and professional, intimate and casual, and the persistent thread throughout is the growing recognition that the Venn diagram of communication that occurs in every social connection is never a perfect circle. There is, and always will be, a degree of non-overlap between the story one has about oneself and the version held by the other. The strength and health of a relationship, in any form it takes, is largely due to the humility brought by recognizing this reality and the degree to which that humility inspires reflective dialogue with those involved. Judgments are easy, and, frankly, inevitable. Holding the space for being wrong, to whatever degree may be the case, and addressing the other person through the varying lenses of analysis provided by different perspectives, is what allows for an appreciation of the whole person, whether in agreement or not about any particular thing.

That same space for flexible acceptance of mutual humanity is where change occurs, as the degree to which we challenge what has come before, collapses into the birthing process of a future we undoubtedly didn’t see coming. This, despite how much control we may have, in our desire to reduce uncertainty, wanted to express. Life is a constantly moving beast we hold onto with smiles and gritted teeth. That bucking behemoth we’re astride, in the flitting moment that is each of our conscious lives, has its own direction, and however we try, we simply cannot know ahead of time how it’s going to shift in direction. All our predictions, fueled by the need for certainty, and given structure by the ideas we have about ourselves, others, and the roles we each have in the world, will at varying times be found lacking in their capacity to control outcomes.

That sense of control is what our ideas, the stories of who we are, the world we perceive around us, and our varying connections within it, are concerned with. When asked about reducing stress, a common rejoinder I make is that stress is an inevitable part of being alive, as it is the felt experience of shifting from one state of being to another. This occurs in the small sense of moving between rooms in a house and the minutiae of internal changes occurring in our biology, most of which we are never consciously aware; to the larger felt experiences of pain, social disruptions of varying kinds, and events that don’t fit our picture of what we consider likely. Indeed, at a fundamental psychological level, what we call trauma is the label applied to a perceived experience that was contrary to our predictions of how the world is supposed to function.

Just because something is stressful doesn’t mean it’s bad or negative, or even that a singular story can or should define the whole of it. Consider that new job or home, losing a job or home, gaining a new friend or losing an old one, going through a dark emotional time or riding the high of a powerful experience; these are experiences that, to varying degrees, fit within the stories we have of what is believed likely to occur. To the degree stress is negatively felt is the degree to which our story of likelihood was challenged or even utterly destroyed.

The Fertile Shifting Sands of Stress

That psychological sense of relating to an imagined future is the fertile ground for change in our lives, as we error correct in varying ways. We can seek out ways to curtail the next possibility by isolating and reducing, where possible, new information in experiences, or actively engage through humility in recognizing that how we view our futures is in constant flux. The uncertainty we experience as stress does not have to be destructive, at least not for any necessary length of time. The truth of that is found in the fact that we can feel that uncertainty or stress even when things are going well. A new job and friends will bring about new social connections and shift our internal stories of what is possible, leaving us with a sense of potential that, while stressful, is also felt as exciting. Oliver Wendall-Holmes said:

"I find that the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand as in what direction we are moving; To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor."

We cannot help but move our lives within the flow of this relational reality. To attempt to stand in one place in the midst of any of this is to be tossed about like flotsam in the sea rather than learning to flexibly shift our balance at the wheel of the ship of our lives.

That flow of relational life is how Daniel Siegel defines relationships, the form of which changes as the flow of information and energy (context) moves. What used to be impossible to imagine becomes inevitable, and what seemed inevitable becomes highly unlikely within this flow expressed through change. What new interests never before considered come about with a new intimate relationship? Consider how behavior that was once considered "not the real me" becomes normal with new work and social environments. Mindfully reflect on verbal phrases picked up from friends and co-workers, jokes and stories retold that would not have been heard elsewhere, and how people who are together for longer start acting more alike.

With these questions and thoughts being pondered, is it any wonder then why change is stressful and can feel overwhelming, even when seen as positive? Let the answer to this be both a thunderous yes and a powerful acceptance of being normal. The wonder and privilege of living relational lives is how much the limits of our imagination are largely due to the variety of our social connections. This means the difficulty that seems insurmountable awaits only a shift in those very connections to become less burdensome.

This process can involve searching for new people, but it can also be found in expanding the images we have of ourselves and those with whom we are connected. The phrase "I didn't know that about you" should not be bound to exasperation about a loved one, but a ringing cry of wonder at every new discovered facet of another person we thought we saw clearly.

We are much more, individually and together, than the current limits of our imagination would have us believe. To explore that potentiality is to ride the flow of our relational lives and not be tossed about when the sea churns, or, and hear me out here, learn to enjoy when the sea gets rough. It is within that uncertainty that we learn to challenge the status quo of our minds and find new ways of diving into a future less burdened by our need for control.

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