by Connie Zweig
Armed with this new understanding, Stewart returned to therapy the following week and said, “I want to give my relationship a shot. I’m choosing to honor it now.” In this way, he gave up the forced choice: be a good boy and take care of your mother, living with resentment; or be a rebel and disobey your mother, living with guilt. The choice to honor the Third Body can free us of deep-seated traps of obligation, caretaking, and control by enabling us to shift out of our personal psychology and attend to the larger relationship. As the soul of the couple is nurtured in this way, it gains strength and substance.
The mythic figure Queen Penelope of Ithaca, wife of the wandering hero Odysseus, embodies this loyalty and commitment to the Third Body. Portrayed as the Queen of Wands in the Tarot deck, the auburn-haired queen in a saffron robe and golden crown sits on a throne with a sleeping lioness at her feet and a flaming wand in her hand. While her husband, Odysseus, sails off to the Trojan War, she holds down the kingdom with faith that he will return alive. During the waiting period, many suitors assume her husband’s death and seek her hand. She agrees to choose one only after completing the weaving of a shroud. But as she weaves the fabric by day, she unravels it by night. And, in the end, she welcomes Odysseus home. Penelope, an image of the loyalty of the heart, is more than a faithful wife or self-sacrificing victim; she rules her own world with inner strength and inspiration. And she has faith that her husband will return not out of enforced morality but from an inner conviction that the Third Body will endure.
How do you sense the Third Body? How do you nurture it? How do you betray it?
MEETING THE BELOVED: TAKING PROJECTIONS HOME
These developmental stages of relationship—from the persona connection in dating through the romantic projection to the authentic soul encounter and the emergence of the Third Body—go unrecognized by most of us. Therefore, we may make an external commitment to marry in the first two stages before we have uncovered our own shadows, accepted our partner’s shadow characters, or become aware that the process of relationship inevitably includes crises of commitments. However, without shadow awareness, we cannot make an internal commitment; we can only hold a persona wedding. Unknowingly, we vow to hold up each other’s masks and to stand in place. When the roller-coaster rides lead us to great suffering, we feel helpless and disillusioned. We discover that we have no return ticket. Ultimately, divorce may seem the only way out.
The persona marriage typically results in a split projection, in which one partner carries the opposite qualities of the Other. Then one, the screw-up, is perceived as the problem: He or she is too emotional, too distant, too dependent, too independent. And the saint, who can do no wrong, offers sympathetic solutions from aloft.
If we marry in the grip of an intense romantic projection, the shadow may act out at any time in distancing behavior, unexpected moodiness, cruel words, physical violence, clandestine affairs, or a serious illness, causing us to feel as if we are falling from grace. Our innocence waning, we may wish for magical powers to ward off evil. We may rail bitterly against broken promises made in the original persona contract. We may suffer sleepless nights, bouts of anxiety or depression, addictions to food or drugs, headaches or other signs of psychosomatic tension.
But our fate has turned: When the persona and shadow processes meet, like two parallel lines that suddenly converge, we can throw up our hands and walk out the door, or we can stop and hear the call of the Third Body for shadow-work. Then we can discover that an inevitable developmental process is taking place, and that it is in our power to take the first step in shadow-dancing: romancing projections.
First, we will need to stop blaming the Other and examine how we contribute to the painful pattern. For example, Boyd, a house contractor, fell in love with a writer, Louise, except that he could not stand her so-called weight problem. With a haughty impatience, he disclosed, “She’s at least twenty pounds overweight. I mean, why doesn’t she just get it under control? I control my weight well enough. What’s wrong with her, anyway?”
Despite this difficult issue, Boyd felt that he loved Louise and wished to marry her. He came to recognize that his judgmentalness was shaming and abusive to her and that he would need to accept her as she is or choose to leave her, because devaluing her was unacceptable to both of them. So, to do shadow-work, he turned within to examine his own judgments about her lack of control concerning weight. Boyd uncovered a saintly, superior shadow character that judged Louise as inadequate by projecting his own inferiority.
Next, he traced the roots of this critical character and realized that he was afraid of his mother’s response to Louise; she would not be good enough for him. When Boyd separated out his mother’s perfectionistic voice as a character at the table from his own tender feelings of love, he could move past the crisis of commitment and eventually accept Louise with her own struggles and limitations.
This kind of difficult self-examination must take place when we are alone in the dark. It feels as if we are taking a long journey through a tunnel in a mountainside with a parallel tunnel on the other side of the wall. Each partner can only hope that the Other is out there digging, too. But, at times, each loses the connection to the loved one and feels alone in the darkness. They only hope that, if both do the work and dig through the mountain, they meet again on the other side and rekindle their love.
As a result of this internal shadow-work, we see how we create the very problems that we perceive as caused by the Other. When we pull back our projections, the saint discovers his own screw-up, and the screw-up discovers her own integrity. The victim awakens to his own tyrant; the tyrant uncovers her own fear of being helpless and out of control. The fuser discovers her own separateness; the abandoner finds his own need for intimacy.
In this way, we romance our shadow projections and eventually recognize the Beloved in the Other, his or her authentic nature without our coloration. And we take home that which belongs in our own treasury, discovering the Other in ourselves, where it was all along. Gradually, in honoring the bond that is both within us and between us—the Third Body—we find soul in our complexes. That is why we say: Shadow-work is soul work.
Who is the Other in you? Who is the Beloved in your partner? With these discoveries, it’s time to talk Turkish.
FRENCH AND TURKISH: THE ART OF CONSCIOUS COMMUNICATION
Recently, a married couple came to therapy feeling confused and bewildered by each other. Abe said to Stephanie: “Yesterday I was so angry that I was purposefully trying to insult you. I was fed up. And I was really getting nasty. And you did something that you haven’t done in years: You sat on my lap and hugged me.” The man sat and stared at her in shock and confusion. “How could you do this? I just don’t understand.”
Stephanie replied, “You were telling me your truth, something you really felt in that moment. So I just loved you. I came over to you because I just loved you for that honesty, even though you were angry.”
She was not listening to the content of her husband’s words or to how they affected her mind—the French. She was feeling the unacknowledged emotional backdrop of the language, the authenticity of the words and how they affected her heart and her body—the Turkish.
Most roller-coaster rides are launched when two partners try to talk French and don’t realize that they are actually talking Turkish. The body speaks Turkish with subtle gestures, such as a turned-up mouth or a shrugged shoulder, eye movements, such as a wink, and symptoms such as headaches. The voice expresses Turkish with its rising and falling tonal qualities, which communicate sarcasm, condescension, or disbelief. Even our moods convey Turkish; depression may send a message of anger, so that the receiver feels as if her life spirit is being smothered.
In fact, Turkish is the medium of the shadow; it carries hidden meanings and their bodily impact. Sweet words can be felt in Turkish to be patronizing; polite words can convey judgment; intelligent words can transmit dissatisfaction. On the other hand, a bodily gesture can convey re
assurance in Turkish; a silence can feel like a warm invitation. Honesty, however difficult to hear, can be received as a message of love. The Turkish is not what is said but how it is said.
So, this second language of communication is filled with subtle nuances. When faced with the ongoing pain of an unresolved issue, a partner may willingly enter the mountain tunnel to do inner work. But if, for a moment, she turns toward her partner with blame or puts the slightest pressure on him to respond or behave in a certain way, the communication is delivered like a hard ball from pitcher to catcher. On impact, the catcher has a visceral response—slapped in the face, punched in the stomach, stabbed in the heart, caught in a net. There is a moment of painful vulnerability, which may go unnoticed. Then, in retaliation, he returns the pitch—name-calling, patronizing, withdrawing, being late. And the negative cycle begins anew.
When the return pitch perpetuates the pattern, increasing alienation and carrying the couple into the arena of shadow-boxing, it’s not important to figure out who started it. In our view, fifty-fifty does not make a successful relationship. For success, each person needs to accept 100 percent responsibility for creating and perpetuating these negative spirals. A man may make a belittling remark in the early morning because he still carries feelings in his body from an irritating event with his wife the day before or even from a disturbing argument the week before. The Third Body takes the painful punches, and both partners feel the strain when the relationship is threatened. In other words, the Turkish lives in the field, where the unresolved issues lie dormant like kindling that is ready to be ignited by the most innocent comment.
When the soul of the relationship is strong, the partners feel free to express themselves and to be playful and spontaneous. When the Third Body is firmly established, one partner can be withdrawn, critical, or sarcastic and the other person will not feel betrayed or threatened, even if she feels hurt. She will know that together they can work out the issues, even though they may feel great pain.
But when the soul of the relationship is fragile, the partners feel tentative, cautious, and unsafe. Then, the Turkish becomes loud and intimidating. And shadow-boxing goes round after round, leaving nothing but pain in its wake.
In many couples, the partner who is the screw-up feels the impact of the Turkish more clearly than the other. He or she needs to voice the shadow issues in order to feel authentic. She frequently may feel hurt, criticized, shamed, or wounded by her partner. Her sensitivity is the trip wire that activates the pattern.
The saint, in turn, displays compassionate understanding for the partner’s suffering. But he may blame her for being overly sensitive and deny any responsibility for contributing to her pain. Or he may blame himself, apologizing over and over again, asking for her forgiveness.
We suggest the following guidelines (outlined further in “Shadow-Work Handbook” to transform shadow-boxing into shadow-dancing:
Remind yourself that no one is right and no one is wrong. Both of you have your own experience and point of view and are entitled to be heard and understood.
When you sense that conflict may erupt, sit down and begin with the breathing exercise (see this page). As you center yourself, you can begin to hear the voice of the Self, which expresses your authentic feelings, needs, and values. In realigning with this voice, the shadow character recedes and you become more self-directed and able to communicate without blame.
Identify the early warnings signals that a conflict is about to begin: the physical sensations and emotional cues that accompany the shadow character, which activate your own participation in shadow-boxing. Get an image of this character. Listen for the repetitive words and phrases that belong to this character.
If the conflict heats, up and you hear the bell signaling the next round, ask for time out. Remember that nothing positive happens during the conflict; it always ends in a hurtful attack or withdrawal. So, you may simply take a moment to close your eyes and breathe deeply. Or you may tell your partner that the conflict is escalating too quickly and you need time to calm down and would like to continue the conversation at another time and place. Be sure to tell your partner that you are not abandoning him or her. Rather, you wish to avoid mutually created pain. You intend to center yourself, gather your thoughts, examine your own shadow issues, and return fully present to the challenge. Hopefully, your partner will do the same.
When you are alone, do your own shadow-work by taking 100 percent responsibility for your participation in the pattern—even if at first you cannot imagine how you helped to create it. Stay with the difficult feelings until you uncover your own wound, which was triggered by the Other’s behavior. Remember that what you experience in the Other is a reflection of your own deep woundedness.
Ask yourself how your Turkish may have contributed to the conflict and whether you carry any emotional residue from earlier roller-coaster rides, such as ongoing resentment, anger, disappointment, or shame that may be influencing this experience. You might explore it creatively, through writing or the arts, and in this way uncover a secret, sabotaging character.
Identify what you cannot tolerate about your partner’s behavior, recognizing that this is the shadow character that has shown up. Recall an earlier time when you were accused of this behavior or experienced this character in yourself. In other words, romance the projections. (Clearly, we do not include physical abuse as a projection here.)
Identify the historical patterns or family sins that led to the creation of this character or style of defending or attacking. Ask yourself who in your family of origin acted in this way.
Return to your partner at the appointed time. Create a collaborative atmosphere in an effort to understand the Other’s experience by listening to him or her without defending yourself or blaming the Other. Try to avoid interpreting your partner’s behavior or describing how he or she contributes to the conflict. And try to avoid attempting to come to a conclusion (in French) at this time. Instead, focus on yourself. Tell your partner how you contributed to it and how your unacknowledged feelings came through in Turkish. Finally, explore how you might respond differently the next time.
Finally, honor the Third Body, the soul of the relationship, which transcends your personal shadow issues.
Your partner is your best mirror. As you communicate your own experience clearly and without blame, such as by using the first person in your speech, you can get a reflection of how your shadow operates. When your partner says he feels attacked, you have a choice: You can believe he’s wrong or lying and defensively reject the feedback. You can blame yourself for being hurtful and insensitive. Or, with humility, you can seek to recognize how your shadow contributes to the conflict and attempt to become responsible for breaking the pattern in this relationship and for the next generation. As one man said to his lover, “My pattern of feeling attacked didn’t start here. But it can end here.”
With patience and a partner who shares the responsibility for shadow-work, you may discover the gold in the hidden message of the shadow character: a greater capacity to accomplish directly what the shadow tries to accomplish indirectly.
Eventually, shadow-dancing may lead to soul talk. The partners are no longer on guard for projections and blame, anticipating criticism or judgment. Instead, their words soothe and heal each other. They go right in, touching the soul of the Beloved, so that the partners feel known and heard.
Who is the saint? Who is the screw-up? What signals in Turkish warn you of impending conflict? How do you sabotage the shift from shadow-boxing to shadow-dancing?
CRISIS OF COMMITMENT: MOVING IN, BECOMING ENGAGED
With marriage, the archetypes shift in unpredictable ways as each partner changes patterns, from single to spouse. If children are involved, one partner also shifts from a childless adult to a parent or an instant stepparent. As one man put it: “Marriage scares the hell out of me. When I married the first time, the moment the ring went on my finger I felt old tapes switch on that I didn’t even know
were there. I could just feel myself becoming my father: And my wife, who was such an independent woman, somehow expected that of me. She changed overnight, becoming needy and depressed.”
We take spiritual vows and enter into another realm, relaxing into familiarity and a deeper level of safety, shedding persona and further disclosing suppressed aspects of ourselves. As one client said of his new wife, who disclosed her sexual abuse after the marriage ceremony, “We had a great sex life for six months. Then she disappeared.” So, from the point of view of shadow and soul, slower is better; we suggest moving toward marriage with caution and shadow awareness.
There is an interim period that is often overlooked today which can ease the transition from being single to being married—being engaged. Engagement, as an opportunity to prepare for conscious marriage, offers another chance to see a partner and to be seen, to discover the Beloved and to disclose the soul. It’s a time to explore a deeper authenticity, especially by exploring sensitive differences in power, religious beliefs, sexual habits, financial attitudes, parenting ideals, and lifestyle preferences. In particular, it’s a time to experiment with French and Turkish for the bouts of shadow-boxing that inevitably will occur. A successful engagement will act like a pressure cooker, either strengthening the relationship as it moves toward commitment or uncovering irreconcilable differences before the partners exchange vows, thereby helping them to avoid greater pain in the future.
For example, when Dick, twenty-eight, a high-strung accountant, met Madeline, a widow at twenty-seven, he was immediately attracted to her. He had a list of relationship criteria in mind, but the list no longer seemed important. He wanted to become involved, even though she had three children and a low-paying job. He was caught by the projection and the sweetness of their sexual connection.