How we relate in the inner world will be how we relate in the outer. If we can appreciate and have compassion for our parts, even for the ones we’ve considered to be enemies, we can do the same for people who resemble them. — Richard Schwartz, founder of IFS – Internal Family Systems
Instead of playing the game ‘Making Life Wonderful,’ we often play the game called ‘Who’s Right.’ It’s a game where everybody loses. — Marshall Rosenberg, founder of NVC – Nonviolent or Compassionate Communication
If you have been following my column, you will be aware of the frequent mention of “needs”—they are at the core of our emotions and govern much of our actions and relationships. But some people find the word off-putting—evoking associations of neediness, of co-dependence, of a lack of inner resourcefulness. Many of us have grown up in environments where expressing needs was not welcome. This can lead to repressing this fundamental source of energy and missing out on its considerable benefits for our lives.
My take on this is influenced by Marshall Rosenberg, founder of Nonviolent or Compassionate Communication (NVC) and by Internal Family Systems (IFS). According to Rosenberg, all human beings are trying to honor and meet needs every minute, every hour, every day. Let’s see what that may mean for us right now, as you are reading this, as I am writing this.
Maybe you feel curious, interested, eager to know more—this may be related to needs for learning and growth, or, if the “conflict” part of the title drew you, for resolve and harmony. Or you may notice that you feel quite skeptical and a touch bored, which points to needs that may not be met: for clarity and stimulation, maybe? Or you may feel a little irritable, wanting respect for what you know yourself about these matters? In many situations, there is more than one part of us involved, with a range of feelings and needs.
Where this becomes really interesting is when we start to connect consciously and deliberately with the energy of the needs, whether met or unmet. Experiencing them as states of body/mind with particular qualities, particular shades of experience, gives us a sense of being vibrantly and precisely alive. If you are still with me at this stage, chances are some needs of yours are being met by reading this article—how about focusing in on them, gaining a felt sense of their specific resonance. Close your eyes for a moment and just feel into whatever is alive in you; what you appreciate in yourself about your engagement with the text. I do the same right now as I write these sentences. . . . For me it’s about meaning, creative expression, making a contribution and connection with my readers. Being attuned to these qualities, my body feels relaxed and open and the writing emerges in a free-flowing and satisfying way. What are you discovering?
Now let’s move into the area of conflicts. Like needs, they are ubiquitous, an integral part of being a sentient being. We may not label them as such—like the question of whether to keep reading this article or move onto the next thing is probably of minor importance in your life and hardly merits that label. But, in essence, in a conflict there are two or more sets of needs that seem incompatible. This could play out between parts of yourself, or between you and other people. As Rick Schwartz makes clear in the quote that opens this article, our skills in navigating among our inner parts pays off in our relationship with others, making it less likely that we project our own shadow onto them, instead empathizing with them as beings with their own feelings and needs.
Two unfortunate habits can make conflict feel intractable: Judgement of an inner part or the other person and fixating on strategies. I want to stay at home, while my husband wants us to go out—how insensitive of him! A part of me wants to get up and meditate, the other wants to stay in bed for another half hour—so lazy! Positions harden—we are stuck in an impasse.
When we open into awareness, taking a more curious and generous vantage point, the underlying needs come into focus, in all their vibrancy and validity, beyond any notions of right and wrong. Staying at home gives me calm, ease, and connection. My husband wants adventure and—surprise?—connection. We have some common ground—this often emerges when we enquire into needs present—and a strategy that meets both our needs is not far away. Meditation meets needs for meaning, inner connection, centeredness, clear awareness, etc—whilst staying in bed a little longer—oh isn’t it just so comforting, relaxed and cozy? As we tune into these qualities, some surprising insights may emerge—perhaps our meditation has become a little driven and connecting with that duvet comfort and ease will make it more balanced and attractive again?
We can of course sometimes find ourselves in a conflict that carries more weight and urgency. Will I stay with a partner I don’t really have much in common with or leave them? Will I stay in a job that has growm stale or try something new that carries some risk? How free we feel in our decision-making is shaped by social and historical contexts—and by the burdens our ancestors carried, which live on in our psyche, shaping our inner judges and hurt, exiled parts. We may say that we feel stuck in the situation, but where the deadlock really lies is in the fusion with parts that hold onto important needs, like security, for dear life. We must rise above that identification and connect to greater awareness, to self-qualities such as clarity, compassion, and connection. In order to resolve a major impasse in our lives, we may also need role models for such self-compassion, guides that work as catalysts in the alchemy of inner healing and transformation.
For more everyday conflicts, there is a wonderful coaching tool that I call the “two hands exercise,” combining the wisdom of needs and parts. If you want to give it a go, think of an inner conflict of medium level intensity. Something like: Will I invest my money for maximum financial return or more ethically? Will I talk to my supervisor or let it be? It is useful to clearly identify two voices or parts that advocate for different strategies.
1. Settle into meditative, kindly awareness—connected with the earth, breath, and the interconnectedness with all life. Take some time to expand into a relaxed, open state. From this wider perspective, maybe we don’t need to take this issue quite so personally—we can be playful with it.
2. When you are ready, hold out both hands like two bowls, one for each part. Keep your shoulders and arms relaxed, the chest open.
3. Explore each part in turn, giving it plenty of time: What does it want? What needs is it trying to meet? If it comes easily, let a color or texture emerge that represents it, for example a clear blue fluid or light, filling the bowl. The other bowl will probably be filled with a different color and feel. If visualization is not so accessible, just linger with a felt sense.
4. Enjoy the presence and beauty of all these qualities. What if both sets of needs could be met?
5. Slowly bring the hands together, pouring the colors back and forth, gradually letting them mix and merge.
6. Now there is just one bowl, containing all the needs. Stay open to what emerges—perhaps a new idea or insight?
7. Cup the hands together like holding a jewel, and bring it into the heart.
I used this method recently to try and work out whether to attend a literary round table event in Stirling, about 65 kilometers away, in person or online. It’s the culmination of a set of workshops for older people on the theme of Letting Go. Both options would allow for supporting my husband, who will be a presenter, as well as offer opportunities for learning, as I may be involved in running a similar event next year. Here is what emerged when I took the time for this embodied reflection. The online option (left hand) would give me more freedom of choice, ease, and spaciousness (cool blue light), while being at the location (right hand) would likely be more vitalizing, connecting, and surprising (warm gold/orange light). Bringing the hands together was a heartwarming and scintillating experience, a knowing that it really is true—all these needs can be met. I can go to the event and stay connected with the spaciousness and freedom I value. And if it turned out a little dull or tiring, I have inner resources to draw on.
And something else fell into place through the exercise, as an unexpected fresh insight related to the event theme of Letting Go. Despite our best inner and relational skills, our needs will not always be fully met, at least not in the ways we had envisaged. The exercise itself is a lesson in letting go of preference, of opening to emergence, of bowing to life. It doesn’t mean abandonment of our valid needs but a more spacious relationship with how they may be met. There is no way around the fact that life, in all its richness, asks of us to come to terms with dukkha, with unsatisfactoriness. Coming into a wise relationship with conflict is part of that maturing.
Related features from BDG
Going Beyond the Script: Nonviolent Communication in the Kitchen
Satyagraha: Nonviolent Civil Resistance for Climate Justice
The Many Faces of Hope
Thích Nhất Hạnh’s Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings, Part 1
Metta Makes Space
Beginner’s Mind: No-Self and Social Suffering
