Watching words

A lot has been written in the past week about language and its power. The violence in Tucson and its aftermath sparked a much overdue national discussion about language in our public discourse. As a therapist, I am very aware of the power of words. The power of language is something that ancient people knew and respected. Every major wisdom tradition and its literature speaks to the power of language: in the Judeo-Christian tradition, God speaks the world into existence. In indigenous Australian traditions, totemic beings sang the world into existence. And from the Buddha:

The thought manifests as the word; The word manifests as the deed; The deed develops into habit; And the habit into character.

So, watch the thought and its ways with care And let it spring from love Born out of concern for all Beings. As the shadow follows the body, As we think, so shall we become. --From The Dhammapada

Words give shape to our sense of reality. They can uplift, affirm, and celebrate; and they can demean, wound, and destroy. This is not news.

But, as the Buddha insightfully noted, language subtly shapes our inner worlds; it likewise shapes our responses to the external world just as it shapes our character. The language with which we communicate reflects the internal language we use to think about ourselves and our experiences. Indeed, most of us think with language. We carry on continual internal conversations with ourselves, constructing stories in our heads about ourselves and our experiences—stories that give our experiences additional dimensions, textures, and meanings. We then encounter and respond to the world through the lens of those thoughts, words and meanings, not realizing that our encounters with others are now distorted by what our thoughts and language have constructed. Language can filter our perceptions of events which impacts our subsequent actions which are, in turn, responded to by others who have constructed their own stories about what they've experienced. All those thoughts and words create misunderstandings and confusion, usually reinforcing those internal stories we have developed. Without being fully aware of it, we have developed a habit of being in the world. Indeed, “as we think, so shall we become.”

One of the central goals of psychotherapy is to become more aware of one’s thoughts and feelings. Talking—and listening carefully to one’s words—is the primary means for developing awareness. Therapists pay close attention to language because it reveals conscious and unconscious habits of being. Indeed, we pay attention so that we can develop understanding and find a common ground from which to work on changing those habits of being that cause suffering. Attending to our thoughts and words is hard work, and altering our habitual ways of being in the world is even more difficult.

Over the past 25 years, mindfulness—being compassionately watchful of “the thought and its way with care”—has become an increasingly valued habit of being in psychotherapy, especially for therapists. Moreover, it is a habit that many therapists try to help their clients develop. Mindfulness is something that we can all practice and integrate into our daily lives.

It seems to me that real change in our public discourse can only begin with each of us as individuals living with mindful awareness in community: each of us becoming more compassionately mindful; each of us practicing becoming aware of his or her thoughts becoming words, becoming deeds, becoming habits of character.

So, watch the thought and its ways with care And let it spring from love, Born out of concern for all Beings.

Playing for Balance

You never know what might appear in The New York Times. The paper takes its masthead seriously: “All the News that Fit to Print.” Sometimes the paper will present an article that, while not exactly news, provides a refreshing perspective or supports common sense. A recent article on parenting and mental health did both. In fact, the article made me cheer. Last Thursday (1/6/11), the front page of the Home and Garden Section featured an article centered on play. The article, "Effort To Restore Children's Play Gains Momentum", focused on the growing awareness among psychologists, educators and parents that excessive attention to achievement and success is detrimental to children, and that the ethos of achievement exacts a price—often at the expense of playtime, creativity and imagination. As the article rightly points out, playing is crucial to children’s emotional development and mental health.

Play is also vital to the mental health of adults.

Play (how we play, as well as who and what we play with) is something that is rarely directly addressed in psychotherapy with adults. Too bad, because play is essential for living balanced, healthy lives. Being able to play signals a willingness to experiment, to try out new behaviors—regardless of the outcome. In fact, playing creates a space where outcomes are less important than play itself, where failure is acceptable—even valued—for its ability to open doors onto new experiences and possibilities. Children play quite naturally: they use to play to learn about themselves, their abilities, and their relationships to the world. Children playing “dress-up” are, among other things, experimenting with social and gender roles, trying our different identities. They are, of course, not conscious about what they are doing—they’re just playing.

Adults have a much harder time with play; it’s seen as frivolous, especially in Western culture where work and productive outcomes are valued. Adults get caught up competition—and play stops being play and becomes work. Moreover, adults have a difficult time turning off the self-conscious, analytic brain. Indeed, adults have a difficult time just being present. We’re too concerned about outcomes, appearances, meeting expectations, winning. And for adults who experienced trauma as children, playing can be a frightening experience: play requires a loosening of vigilance, and play lowers defenses. Playing can make adults feel vulnerable. Hence, the difficulty with playing. But the inability to play exacts a price: anxiety, depression, addiction, among other problems.

When we are unable to balance work with play, our sense of self becomes distorted. Too often in our culture, one’s sense of self is tied directly to work and productivity, and when something occurs that severs that tie, the emotional and psychological turmoil that ensues is profoundly disorienting. Think of the emotional devastation that comes in the wake of a suddenly lost job: the turmoil centers not just the financial insecurities that arise or the concerns about being able to survive. For many, the real disorientation lies in questions regarding identity: who am I? Upon what ground does my sense of worth rest?

Similarly, couples who do not play—separately or together—often have difficulty with intimacy. They become locked into one- or two-dimensional roles that don’t permit them to see, much less accept or fully experience, each other. They don’t share the space that creates meaningful intimacy.

In a very real sense, psychotherapy is a process that invites play. Good therapy creates a safe space where play can occur. Indeed, therapy is playful. The psychoanalyst D.W. Winnicott wrote about this: “in playing, perhaps only in playing, the child or adult is free to be creative” (Playing and Reality, p.71). In play, you can try out new behaviors, new ways of thinking, new ways of approaching life. So it is with psychotherapy: in a sense, therapy is about creating freedom, and playing is a process whereby freedom can be created—an internal freedom that allows us just to be. Indeed, therapy can help you can be your authentic self—balanced and whole. We learn who we are when we play.

Julia, Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, offered an insightful means for helping adults reconnect with the freedom that arises from play. She suggested that adults take themselves on “artist dates”—engaging in a different activity that allows for experimentation and fun each week. The activities can be anything from exploring a part of the city you don’t know to flying a kite, to singing. These dates need not have any particular outcome other than that they be something that lies outside one’s routine and unrelated to one’s work. (Notice that these are activities—not entertainments. Going to the movies, watching TV doesn’t count, or being otherwise passively entertained doesn’t count. Playing is always active.)

Playing IS therapeutic.