Aug 2008
Who decides?
Here's a secret: nobody makes decisions on their own. The idea that you weigh up your options, considering the pros and cons, and then pick a course of action to take, is a myth. That may be the way things happen in a commercial or legal or other professional setting, but when it comes to individual people, nobody ever decides to do anything before they do it. The truth is, we only decide after we have acted.
We go about our lives, and one day, for whatever reason, our behaviour changes. If we like the change, we maintain it. If we don't like it, we may go back to the way we were. With hindsight, you may look back at your life and wonder about the decisions you have made. From this angle, they look like strong, discrete forks in the road, and you may feel a sense of agency; that you have pro-actively and decisively chosen the path that your life has taken. What happens when you look ahead? Do things look so certain when you look to the future? Why doesn't your life's path seem so well-lit from that angle? And, as if the future didn't look hazy enough, how certain and decisive do things look right now? Perhaps you are currently wrestling with a big decision. Maybe you are thinking about making a significant purchase, leaving or starting a relationship, or changing the way you behave in some other way. Do you feel like you are at a clear fork in the road? When will you make your "decision"? When will you act on that decision? Do you feel sure of what you will decide, or do you feel more like you are trying to guess at where things will be in a years' time?
There is a phenomenon Psychololgists refer to as "cognitive dissonance". It goes something like this. Let's say you apply for two jobs, and are accepted for both. Which one do you choose? You like both, otherwise you wouldn't have applied for them both. There are relative advantages and disadvantages to each. Perhaps one has longer hours, but is also better paid. Perhaps one is closer to home, but the other has a bit more prestige. You think about it, and talk to people about it, and eventually accept one of the jobs, and reject the other . This is where the cognitive dissonance kicks in: You soon feel very relieved with the choice you made, and the advantages of the job you now have seem to far outweigh the disadvantages of the other job, which, now that you look at it, "really wasn't for you." You may struggle in the new position, but are likely to ultimately feel that, all things considered, you were luck to have made the right decision.
But did you really make a decision? To what degree was the decision made for you? Who and what influenced you, and how predictable were those influences? How helpful were they? How much freedom to decide did you have?
When you look at it, decisions are much more automatic, or involuntary, than we care to admit. If you leave this site and spend time "surfing the 'net", you'll be getting a taste of the way that decisions are made most of the time. The truth is, you never really know where you'll end up, so you may as well enjoy the process, and expect the unexpected.
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It takes two to tango.
08/08/08 18:29 Filed in: Relationships | Change
When Jo and Sam first met, they had little in common. Sam, being a generation older than Jo, seemed to know all about life, while Jo felt there was still so much to learn. They soon discovered a shared passion: dancing. At every opportunity, Jo could be seen dancing "like no-one is watching", as the saying goes, while Sam was an avid Tango dancer. Watching Sam Tango, Jo felt that no other dance could offer such perfection, such subtlety. Jo was in love. Sam sensed Jo's awe and longing, and graciously offered to teach Jo how to Tango. Of course, the burgeoning relationship offered rewards to both of them, in the beginning. Jo's beauty and lust for life made Sam feel new excitement about the dance, while Sam came to be Jo's 'rock', opening new possibilities for mastery of a world-renowned dance form. Mutual friends were happy for them both, and soon held Sam and Jo out as a model dance couple - "they've got this great connection... some people are just made for each other." For Jo, dancing with Sam was like a dream; the safe hands, the sure feet, the feeling of security all brought Jo the confidence to go beyond the free-form flailing that had come before. Meanwhile, Sam found that Jo breathed new life into the tango, and with that new life came new joy. Both Sam and Jo felt immense happiness about their partnership, and each came to look forward to dancing happily ever after.
There were the occasional and inevitable conflicts, and early on the rocky moments were dealth with quickly and without lasting resentment. Both Sam and Jo knew that all good relationships have their rough edges. Sometimes Sam would get frustrated with Jo's impulsiveness, undermining the discipline that good Tango requires. At times, Jo found Sam's rigid adherence to the rules infuriating. But Sam knew that Tango is a timeless dance and, with patience, Jo could become a truly perfect Tango dancer.
As time went by, Jo became more and more aware of the limitations of the timeless dance. True, there were opportunities for the free expression Jo was used to, and increasingly longed for, but even when these openings came, Jo felt eclipsed by Sam. Sam was disquieted by Jo's growing restlessness, and tried to help. Sam demonstrated the moves with increasing insistence, and tried to revel in the opportunities for creative expression when they came.
Eventually, Jo and Sam reached a crisis. Much as Jo loved the Tango, it had come to represent a way of dancing that offered no freedom. Jo felt unable to breathe, unable to move without restriction. In secret, Jo began to indulge in the flailing style of dancing that used to be so much fun, but it had a sense of urgent furtiveness that hadn't been there before. To Jo, the Tango felt more and more like a prison dance, but the alternative felt like no dance at all. Sam sensed Jo's unhappiness, but could only look to the time-honoured form and function of the Tango for solutions. Sam sought to reassure Jo, talking of the awe and perfection that Jo had witnessed in the early days... perfection that was still within their grasp. Jo saw the logic of Sam's reassurance, but was torn. There was just no more room for Jo to be Jo any more. Beautiful as the Tango is, it had come to feel lifeless for Jo. To Sam's despair, Jo drifted away.
Sam continued to dance the Tango, but it had lost the wild joy that Jo had brought. Sam found new dance partners, many of whom had more discipline than Jo, more precise adherence to the form, but Sam found that somehow this precision still had an emptiness to it. Sam's new-found refinement brought the accolades of friends and admirers, but for Sam, the dance had lost its vitality.