The Nature of Conflict

I've been thinking a lot lately about conflict. In general, I think many people are pretty conflict-avoidant. I've seen whole families dance around an argument or a family "secret," intent on maintaining a persona of perfection or at the very least cohesion. I myself grew up in such a family.

Sometimes there's really something to be said for avoiding conflict, such as when a group needs to act as one for safety or to accomplish a task. If a community's only chance of escaping a war-torn country is to temporarily bury their internal disagreements and work as one to escape persecution, conflict-avoidance can, on several levels (not the least of which is literally), save lives.

However, on the whole, our fear of conflict seems to drive us ever further apart as opposed to into a cohesive whole. To reference the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith (any why the heck not?), "the space between us just seems to fill up with all the things we never say." Whether we do not say what we really mean and communicate what's really going on out of "good manners," an urge to "protect" the other, or the belief that we can just let whatever it is we want to say go, there are a million reasons to not face the perception of difference.

Really, at the end of the day, that is what we are all scared of--a perception of difference. I spent years not talking to my extended family about politics, believing that if we talked about our beliefs, we would disagree. If we disagreed, we could never really go back to pretending we did agree. And if we couldn't even pretend we agreed, how could we ever be a family again?

I think that fearing conflict is underestimating our personal and collective abilities. We are complex creatures who are capable of speech, movement, emotions, reproduction, and invention, yet we operate on the notion that we are incapable of reaching greater levels of understanding, that we cannot possibly find a way to move even closer to one another as a result of communicating through a conflict.

I still remember a lesson my mother pointed out to me my first year of college. I was living with this wonderful, amazing, hilarious, outgoing, thoughtful, brilliant roommate named Anna. We quickly became friends, and we both found ways to expand each other's understanding of the world. Anna, who liked things beautiful and clean and bold, helped me throw away some of my pack-rat objects that were holding me down. I, who liked things serene and practical and stable, helped Anna ground some of her amazing energy. Together, our friendship made us stronger than we were individually.

Sometime in the middle of second semester, Anna and I got into a fight. I honestly don't remember what we argued about. However, it felt devastating. Here was this person who was beautiful inside and out, who was such a ray of sunshine, and we weren't speaking. We weren't staying up late and gossiping, we weren't laughing, or smiling, or leaping off the furniture lip-syncing to Little Richie songs.

Then, one day, it changed. I don't remember who started crying first. I don't remember who apologized first. I don't know when the hug began and when it ended, but it all happened. It was like this weight was lifted off my shoulders. I felt 100 pounds lighter. It was like, the world had opened back up to me. Like I was getting a second chance to try harder.

Even though we'd said mean things to each other and not spoken for days, the conflict made our bond stronger. We both knew that we had made it to the other side of something, and that mutual effort had given us more in common. It made us realize how much we valued the other person, how much they valued us, and how much effort we were both willing to put into our relationship.

I was telling my mother this story. It was like recounting an ancient miracle, I couldn't believe that 2 - 2 could equal 4. Then, my mother said to me, "Remember this feeling. Remember how moving through something made you stronger. This is what marriage is like."

I was kind of taken aback by the statement. Delving into really hard subjects, feeling disconnected before you can feel reconnected, facing times when you think it's all going to fall apart--this did not fit my fairy-tale image of marriage. And yet, it seemed a lot more plausible.

This theory, that communicating honestly in conflict can make you stronger, that not avoiding conflict can lead to less conflict, has proven itself right again and again. I've said some pretty audacious things to friends, family, and colleagues, I've been scared that a rift might never heal, I've thought about (and sometimes have) hidden my feelings or avoided someone in an attempt to escape the constricting feeling of conflict. And yet...and yet...facing it, saying what I need to say, not being afraid to make a fool of myself, and not being afraid to come back later and apologize for making a fool of myself, has only served to deepen relationships. It has only magnified my friendships. It has only built my trust in myself and my intuitions.

I guess I'm just feeling really grateful for conflict lately. Grateful that I've found ways through it, grateful my friends, family, and colleagues have been willing to meet me there, grateful that saying something can set me free, grateful that we are such complex and capable creatures when we give ourselves a chance.

Any thoughts?

Eek, What a Busy Summer!

I had this sort of dream summer planned out. I was going to work part-time (10-15 hours a week), read some good books, and take a few trips to visit friends and family. It was going to be a peaceful time, full of introspection, sleeping in, and getting more involved in what really mattered to me rather than with endless amounts of homework and data entry for my job. It seems a distant dream now...

My reality has been more, well, real. After an unexpected resignation from my boss and mentor in June, I was spending 10 hours a day at my job trying to finish my own work as well as get a handle on hers. Did I ever mention I want to be a minister and not the Annual Funds Director at a small seminary?? In case I didn't, I never, under any circumstances, in any form or fashion, want to be solely responsible for managing hundreds of thousands of dollars of credit card, check, cash, and stock donations to a non-profit organization. Furthermore, endless conversations about how to make our computer programs talk to our consortium's computer programs using a complicated system of fund coding and FTTPing the csv file is at best bothersome and at worst the 10th ring of Hell.

That being said, I have read some great books this summer! If you've never read it, I highly recommend Jean Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear. It takes place tens of thousands of years ago when Neanderthals (a human cousin of the people we evolved from) and the Cro-Magnon people (our ancestors) both walked the earth at the same time. A 5 year-old Cro-Magnon girl's family dies in an earthquake, and she is left to fend for herself. Luckily, she is picked up and raised by a Neanderthal tribe. Jean Auel's careful research about the plants, animals, lifestyles, and the physical capabilities of different bodies is very evident. I highly recommend this book. Also, because it's so famous and popular, most public libraries have it. YAY for free book borrowing!

I am also in the midst of Harry Potter. It is so good. I'm only about 2/3 of the way through the book. I'm simultaneously unable to stop reading and wanting to make it last longer. My friend Justin (see picture in previous post) and I are both in the same place in the book, and we have been systematically avoiding people who are finished and want to tell us the ending. In the words of Justin, normally quite a peaceful man, "If anyone gives away the ending of Harry Potter to me, I'm going to go Blast-Ended Skrewt on their ass!" Justin has such a way with words.

That's all for now. More updates to come. :)