Tribe Meeting Report: Sharing the Joy

Ed,

Prior to attending the Tribe meeting, I write down my issue: In relationships, I sometimes feel rejection and betrayal and then get angry and blow up at my companions, calling them names and attacking them verbally. I know better than to do this – even when it happens. I just seem unable to control it.

Two other people attend the meeting: a businessman who has an issue with procrastination; his wife, who has an issue with saying what she wants.

We all have considerable Tribe experience and we agree to go with a “free form” Tribe meeting. Rather than follow a strict format of one-person-at-a-time on the hot seat, we agree to follow the basic TTP principles – and also to open and conduct three interactive hot seat processes simultaneously.

The businessman begins by telling us that he can't seem to get things done – and that “other things” come up that he has to do first, before he can get down to business. We help him get into his issue and develop some forms, one involving him raising his left hand as if supporting a heavy object to which he has to attend. We then turn attention to his wife.

She tells us she feels nervous about taking the hot seat and shy about asking for what she wants. I ask her if she feels embarrassment. She says that she kind of does. I ask if she can increase the  feeling of embarrassment by imagine asking for what she wants naked.

We all smile about this and she laughs and says she feels OK to proceed with her clothes on. I suggest for her to go ahead and demonstrate her form in action, to go ahead and ask her husband for something.

She begins by telling him she wants him to connect with her when she asks for something. While she does this, he appears to "glaze over" and go somewhere else. Rather than acknowledging the communication with “thank you” or by repeating the communication, he just sits there. I ask him if he can repeat his wife's request.

He finds he cannot repeat her words or even remember the gist of her communication.

We all see that he goes somewhere else and that he does not listen to his wife – and all this despite considerable experience with TTP and with active listening.

I say, “OK, man, let's get with the program and try this again.” He tries again, this time partially succeeding.

He then says “Thank you for catching me going somewhere else. I could really feel your anger at me.”

I say, “Thank you for letting me know you could feel my anger. I'd like to continue with this process in a way that provides guidance to you in a less angry way, one that does not involve putting you down.”

At this point we have “game on” with all of us in process simultaneously.

I say, “How about try the communication again. I can continue to give you feedback if I see you checking out.” We all agree and after a few more attempts, he manages to stay present with his wife when she tells him she wants to connect.

Suddenly, we can all feel the connection. His eyes moisten and as he feels her desire to connect and her frustration and disappointment when she cannot.

He also says he has difficulty connecting with her when she gets enthusiastic and joyfully jumps up and down enthusiastically like a little girl.

I ask if he might prefer a much older-acting wife, say one in a wheelchair with tubes in her arms and and wearing an oxygen mask.

He considers this and then returns to receiving his wife, enthusiasm and all. They continue the process and soon go deeply into a very intimate place.

I suggest they might consider synchronizing their breathing when they retire for the night, to further enhance the connection. They look at each other and say they might not make it home for a while, as they might have to stop at a motel along the way.

They then both start to focus on me. I tell then I have an issue with anger management and I think it comes from, among other things, a critical childhood experience. I recount saving up my allowance and then walking to town and spend my money on a toy airplane. I then proceed to fly the plane home. I hold it in my right hand and make it perform all manner of stalls and dives and death-defying banks and turns – all complete with sound effects.

Then, when I finally see my house come into view, everything changes. I realize I simply cannot take the plane into the house with me. My mother would berate me for spending my money on something silly and my father would scold me for not saving my money and he would take away the change and put it in a “safe place” for me - until I could learn to act more responsibly.

Furthermore, if I would dare to complain or show any emotion, my father would slap me across the face - or at least say “If you feel like crying, I can give you something to cry about.”

So rather than risk such reprisals, and in a cold sweat, I decide I better do something to hide my new airplane.

At first, I try to disguise its newness by scratching it on the cement curb. That only makes it look like a new plane with new scratches – a condition I would have even more difficulty explaining – and that might invoke additional rebukes for “not taking proper care of your toys.” I decide to rub dirt into the scratches to make it look old. Alas, that still leaves evidence of a new toy and more unanswerable questions. Ultimately, I decide to bury my new plane in the garden and not bring it into the house at all.

We run this scenario as a role-play. It all gets very real to all of us. On this first trial, I bury the plane and then stand there crying at my predicament and at the loss of my toy.

On the second trial, I bring the plane into the house and suffer my parents' scolding and humiliating me. I stand there sobbing and experiencing the pain of humiliation and rejection. I do not dare to show anger.

I do not know what else to do.  I have no role model for this situation.

At this point the other Tribe members step in to provide instructions for operating a replacement Rock.

They comment that I seem to have more than an anger management issue. The wife tells me that when I bury the plane, she feels me also burying my love and joy. She says my real issue might have more to do with joy management than with anger management.

This surprises me.  Perhaps I don't understand my own issue.  Such is the value of Tribe.  We illuminate the path for each other - from different perspectives.

She goes on to tell me a story about “Eva” a 6-year-old girl in her neighborhood that continuously jumps up and down and shrieks with delight when she comes to visit her friend (the couple's daughter).

Then the two girls go prancing off together jumping up and down and laughing and giggling. She says, “you just can't stay sad around Eva. She brings pure joy wherever she goes.”

She suggests we re-run the simulation with Eva taking my place to model a new approach for me. I show considerable resistance and say “I feel fear that my father might wind up slapping her unconscious for such a direct show of emotion.” Both of them assure me that they think we can run the role play safely and that we might learn something.

During the ensuing role play, Eva just flounces into the house with her plane and flies it right over my father's belly and up my mothers' side, all the while giggling and jumping with joy. To my enormous surprise, both of my parents start smiling and wanting to join in the fun.

I simply cannot relate to what I see. I ask my fellow Tribe members how come they don't try to scold Eva. They say they don't feel like scolding her – they feel like playing with her.

This hits me like a ton of bricks. I go into disbelief and shock and feel sick in my stomach. Perhaps my issue has very little to do with my parents. Maybe it has to do with my own projections. My Tribe members encourage me to run the simulation again, only this time running it in “Eva mode.”

I reluctantly agree. With additional encouragement, we begin the simulation. I fly the plane, newness and all, right into the living room and perform several complex maneuvers right in front of my parents.

Both parents smile and my father says, “Wow, you sure seem to know a lot about flying.” When I hear that, I experience intense surprise and disbelief.

I finally allow myself to experience acknowledgment from my father - after waiting a lifetime to hear it. I feel a wave of release sweep over me. I can share my joy without fear of reprisal. I just stand there, marinating in my father's acknowledgment, empty and happy and sad and joyous - and sobbing without reserve from very deep place.

Thereafter, we check out for the evening and acknowledge each other for our contributions to each other. We reflect on our rather chaotic Tribe meeting. We follow general principles and make up the structure as we go. We notice we have various forms of the same issue and all get through them by working together.

I feel that formal structure has a lot of value, especially for newcomers, while they get the hang of TTP.  Once they master the principles, they can pretty much apply them as they see fit.

After the Tribe meeting, I notice many changes. In my relationships, I have much less fear about what others think about me, and more desire to share my joy about my life and interests.

I also have more desire to connect emotionally with others and to listen to their feelings. I find myself behaving differently, less judgmentally and with more compassion for others. I also have a new desire to do and to share fun things. For example, the next day I travel to another city and attend a concert, just because it sounds like fun.

I also sign up for a series of horse-riding lessons. When I ask the instructor about the class size, and what kinds of people normally sign up, he says he normally takes about four or five people out at a time – mostly 8-to-11-year-old girls. Wow! Coincidence? Seems more likely my own internal Eva finally coming out and play. 

I'd like to acknowledge the support of my many friends over the years who encourage me to stick with it - and also to my Tribe members who show up and give their all so that we can all make it through to the other side.