Response to Foramtion Notes 6
We can become caught up in an idea and become attached to our own opinion. This brings many dangers, such as not being able to listen to others with patience and compassion, not being able to respond appropriately should it turn out our idea was wrong, and not being open to God’s nudgings. Or if we get attached to our routine, we stagnate, refusing to change, and thus we cannot grow.
We can also become attached to people, and it is in the sense of possessiveness to which I refer here, not any sense of connectedness that comes simply from love. This, I believe, is not only the least acknowledged form of possessiveness, but it is also the most destructive. Many of us hold an ideal of unconditional love, but how often do we actually live it? Very rarely are we aware enough to see our own motivations in dealing with other people. Like with possessions, we often look to other people in our search for that inner sense of worth, that state of joy, that something to fill the hole in our hearts. And when people stop giving us that, too often we blame them. Like we do with objects, we may move on and find another person (as a friend, a partner, anything) to provide us with joy, or, since humans are so interactive, we may feel that since they have stopped making us feel whole and happy, they must have stopped doing something. So perhaps we fight, perhaps we turn on the tears, give good old guilt a try, perhaps we just feel betrayed and then tell other people of how this person let us down and hope that the others will rush to restore our self-worth. In our desperate search to attain lasting happiness, to find that missing piece, we unthinkingly treat other people as we treat things. They become consumables and disposables. The worst part is we’re not even aware we are doing it. We forget over and over again that no one will ever be enough satisfy. No one else can give us lasting happiness.
When my chap gave me minus-two weeks’ notice that he was moving out (to find a job in Sydney), I was devastated. This was the chap I had shared my home with for a year and a half, and whom I had adored for six. He was just going to walk out? Show me so little respect as to not even tell me before he had gone? This kind of behaviour was hardly okay. I wanted him to see that. How should I act in order for the best outcome to come about (namely, for him to realise that he was wrong, and that he shouldn’t leave after all)? Harsh words? Tears? Cold shoulder? Sulking? Put on that resigned and vulnerable expression? I had a split second decision to make and it was important I make my reaction spot on. I hugged him. I hugged him and told him I loved him, and that I was proud of him for following his heart even though it was hard for him.
In an instant, I had switched from looking for the best outcome for me to looking for the best outcome for him. I had a moment where I realised this chap needed my love and support more than ever, and that the only way I could do myself justice was if I stopped focusing on how I could make him make me happy and started considering how I could help him find his happiness.
A friend of mine heard that my chap had moved out and she was unimpressed. She told me that I deserved better, I needed someone who would love and support me, someone who valued me so much that he would want me to be happy more than anything else, someone who would be the perfect partner. What she had just described was what I was trying to be for David. Why should we expect that from a partner but not from ourselves? My chap’s decision had been painful to me, but it taught me the important lesson to stop looking to him for my happiness, and to start consciously trying to bring the love of God into my heart so that I could channel it into my relationships with people.
It is this form of ‘poverty’ that I seek in relationships. It is the poverty of not seeking to gain from relationships with other people, but rather expecting to give; to live out relationships in the spirit of service, and to dispose of the games and manipulations we so often bring into play; and to stop looking to other people for my fulfilment. Just as we should endeavour not to cling to things and feel possessive of them, even more so should we be careful not to become possessive of people. Relationships only flourish in the spirit of service.
We can also become attached to people, and it is in the sense of possessiveness to which I refer here, not any sense of connectedness that comes simply from love. This, I believe, is not only the least acknowledged form of possessiveness, but it is also the most destructive. Many of us hold an ideal of unconditional love, but how often do we actually live it? Very rarely are we aware enough to see our own motivations in dealing with other people. Like with possessions, we often look to other people in our search for that inner sense of worth, that state of joy, that something to fill the hole in our hearts. And when people stop giving us that, too often we blame them. Like we do with objects, we may move on and find another person (as a friend, a partner, anything) to provide us with joy, or, since humans are so interactive, we may feel that since they have stopped making us feel whole and happy, they must have stopped doing something. So perhaps we fight, perhaps we turn on the tears, give good old guilt a try, perhaps we just feel betrayed and then tell other people of how this person let us down and hope that the others will rush to restore our self-worth. In our desperate search to attain lasting happiness, to find that missing piece, we unthinkingly treat other people as we treat things. They become consumables and disposables. The worst part is we’re not even aware we are doing it. We forget over and over again that no one will ever be enough satisfy. No one else can give us lasting happiness.
When my chap gave me minus-two weeks’ notice that he was moving out (to find a job in Sydney), I was devastated. This was the chap I had shared my home with for a year and a half, and whom I had adored for six. He was just going to walk out? Show me so little respect as to not even tell me before he had gone? This kind of behaviour was hardly okay. I wanted him to see that. How should I act in order for the best outcome to come about (namely, for him to realise that he was wrong, and that he shouldn’t leave after all)? Harsh words? Tears? Cold shoulder? Sulking? Put on that resigned and vulnerable expression? I had a split second decision to make and it was important I make my reaction spot on. I hugged him. I hugged him and told him I loved him, and that I was proud of him for following his heart even though it was hard for him.
In an instant, I had switched from looking for the best outcome for me to looking for the best outcome for him. I had a moment where I realised this chap needed my love and support more than ever, and that the only way I could do myself justice was if I stopped focusing on how I could make him make me happy and started considering how I could help him find his happiness.
A friend of mine heard that my chap had moved out and she was unimpressed. She told me that I deserved better, I needed someone who would love and support me, someone who valued me so much that he would want me to be happy more than anything else, someone who would be the perfect partner. What she had just described was what I was trying to be for David. Why should we expect that from a partner but not from ourselves? My chap’s decision had been painful to me, but it taught me the important lesson to stop looking to him for my happiness, and to start consciously trying to bring the love of God into my heart so that I could channel it into my relationships with people.
It is this form of ‘poverty’ that I seek in relationships. It is the poverty of not seeking to gain from relationships with other people, but rather expecting to give; to live out relationships in the spirit of service, and to dispose of the games and manipulations we so often bring into play; and to stop looking to other people for my fulfilment. Just as we should endeavour not to cling to things and feel possessive of them, even more so should we be careful not to become possessive of people. Relationships only flourish in the spirit of service.