tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1 2012-02-03T13:43:29Z Looking at the world through the clarifying lens of Real Love Movable Type 5.04 tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.293 2012-02-03T13:37:36Z 2012-02-03T13:43:29Z

After watching Lisa express her anger at Paul, her husband, for several minutes, I interrupted. "You don't trust him." "Sure I do," she said. "I just don't like many of the choices he makes." "You mean most of his choices."...

Greg Baer most of his choices." Her silence eloquently expressed her assent. "People who don't trust each other," I said, "can't have loving relationships, and yet that's exactly the kind of relationship you keep saying you want." "But I do trust him." "When he does what you want, then you 'trust' him. But that's not trust." "How am I supposed to trust him when he's unkind? Or selfish?" "Which, of course, you define as doing anything you don't like." People are fond of saying that they trust others, but they really don't. It's easy to trust someone who always does what you want and who doesn't make mistakes. That's not trust; it's just enjoyment. Real trust--another word for faith--is a choice we make. Real trust is something we give, rather than demanding that our partners earn it. Before making a decision to trust someone, it might be helpful to understand not only who to trust but what to trust. How can you trust your spouse while he's making mistakes, being selfish, and not loving you? Easy. Make a decision to trust that your partner is doing the best he can to be loving. Almost without exception, your partner does not get up in the morning and decide to be a jerk. His "jerkish" behaviors are just reactions to emptiness and fear, so when he feels more loved, his behavior improves considerably. Surely you've noticed that. If you trust that your partner is doing the best he can, you fully expect that he will make mistakes, behave selfishly, and fail to love you on occasion. We all do that. It's the human condition. Then, when he does make mistakes, it's no great surprise, and your trust--in the right thing, that he's doing his best to learn--is not betrayed. If you trust your partner not to make mistakes and not to hurt you, you'll feel betrayed each time one of those mistakes occurs, and you'll be inclined to withdraw your trust. Our partners can feel our trusting them. When give our trust, they feel like they've received a gift. They want to do the best they can to be deserving of it. Trust is the great bridge that spans our differences and our flaws and brings us together in love. A failure to trust guarantees that such a bridge will never be built, much less used. Many people wait for trust to be proven, like a bridge that is proven by the successful transit of a heavy train. In life, such bridges take a long time to build. They begin with a strand that is freely extended from you to your partner. When that holds, you can use it to pull across larger and larger ropes, and then even stronger structural supports can be added--much like the building of a real bridge across a canyon. In other words, even the building of a bridge takes trust. Choose to trust. Be patient with those who receive your gift. Don't expect too much of them, and you'll be richly rewarded by your faith. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.292 2012-02-01T13:08:30Z 2012-02-01T13:09:45Z

On many occasions, I have watched couples argue over the details of an event: what happened, who did what, who should have done what, who was to blame, who made a mistake, and more. Occasionally, I ask, "What matters to...

Greg Baer thing you're talking about"--the event, the task, the blaming--so important that you're willing to ruin your relationship and be unhappy for the rest of you life? Is it really? Or would you rather be genuinely happy and work on this together? " Nothing matters as much as love. It doesn't matter who left the ice cream out of the fridge, or whose fault it is that the kids are behaving badly, or who started the argument, or anything else. The only meaningful goal is to tell the truth about our own mistakes, feel loved, be as loving as we can, and be happy. It's all that matters. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.291 2012-01-30T12:45:21Z 2012-01-30T12:53:51Z

Rita sat in front of me and was the very model of civility and propriety. She was exceptionally polite, cheery, and cooperative. Nor was there a hair was out of place. When I asked why she'd come to see me,...

Greg Baer right thing is wrong?" "Yes, in a way. I'm saying that it matters what your motivation is when you do good things--what you call 'the right thing'--for other people. You tend--strongly--to look for their reactions. You want their approval. You're motivated by obligation and guilt. You need people to like you for being a good person." As Rita slightly nodded, tears dripped from the corners of her eyes. "You feel trapped," I said. "You feel like you have to do the right thing all the time, or you would become completely unacceptable. You feel like this with your family, friends, everybody. Kind of exhausting, isn't it?" "Yes." "Do you like feeling tired and pressured all the time?" "No." "So pay close attention. While you've been doing what you thought were the right things, you've been unhappy. Does it make sense to you that doing the right thing would make you unhappy?" There was a long pause before she said, "No." "No indeed. The act alone might appear to be good--like helping someone--but if you're motivated by obligation or guilt or a need for approval, you can't feel truly loved, loving, or happy--and that can't possibly be good. And if you're performing out of a sense of obligation, do you believe that the other person feels genuinely loved?" "Probably not." "No. Now, occasionally you may fool someone with your apparent kindness, but most of the time you won't. Not really. So your forced 'goodness' doesn't make you happy, and it doesn't lead to feelings of real love in the other person. That would seem to be a pretty big waste of time and effort, wouldn't you think?" "Yes." More tears. "Even worse, it's a self-deception--quite unintentional--that traps you. You can't see what you're really doing, so you keep repeating what fails to make you happy." "I'm miserable." "I believe it. You're literally addicted to pleasing people, which would include avoiding their disapproval." "So what can I do to change this? Do I just stop pleasing people?" "Yes." "Wouldn't that be unloving?" "Depends on your motivation. If you care about the happiness of others, that's loving, but you don't do that. You take responsibility for their happiness, so they will think well of you--or at least not disapprove of you. It's not the kind acts that are the problem. It's why you do them." "This will be hard. I still don't understand how it would look." "You're an addict. Addicts tend to do best when they simply stop using their drug completely. So, for a time, I would recommend that you simply tell people no. You're asked to bring a cake for a family whose mother is in the hospital. Say no. Will you decorate your child's classroom for the Valentine's Day party? No." "Won't I become a completely selfish person?" "If you were a naturally narcissistic person--who does nothing for anybody else--I wouldn't make this recommendation. But you're not. You're a people pleaser. Your problem is doing too much for people, not too little. You might go through a period of withdrawal here--starving for the approval you earn--but there is no chance whatever that you'll suddenly withdraw completely from serving people for the rest of your life." Pleasing people is a terrible trap and is far different from caring about people. In Real Love, I care about your happiness, but that does not involve the two elements that imprison people pleasers: 1. I don't take responsibility for your happiness. 2. I don't try to make you happy, nor do I do things for the selfish reasons that you'll like me or to avoid your disapproval. The line between pleasing people and caring about them is not a fine one. It's a huge difference in attitude. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.290 2012-01-27T12:53:36Z 2012-01-27T12:55:49Z

A father wrote to me: "I have not known how to connect with my teenage daughter, Jennifer, so I finally decided to do what you suggested long ago. I sat with her and actually listened to her. I began by...

Greg Baer listened to her. I began by asking how she liked school, and she shrugged her shoulders. In the past, I would not have known what to do with that, but now I know that almost everything people do or say is some kind of communication. As she shrugged her shoulders, she also grimaced, so I knew she was telling me that there was something about school she didn't like. "I asked her to talk about what she didn't like about school, and tears welled up in her eyes almost immediately. I couldn't believe the immediate effect I was having on her just by listening--really listening. It's about time. She talked about how she tries to please people all the time, and how it's frustrating and exhausting. Sometimes it works, but most of the time it doesn't, so it's a lot of work for very little reward and a lot of worrying. She said her teachers like her and hold her up as an example of good behavior. Her friends tell her that she's a very nice person too, but the price is just too high. "I explained that I was the one who taught her to do that. All her life she has seen me trying to please people--especially her mother--and I also taught Jennifer to please me. I've been a terrible example to her, and it's only natural that she has followed it. Her view of the world--and how I taught her to survive in it--has caused her a lot of pain. "She actually let me hold her while she cried. I've never felt that close to her. "Once she got going, she just kept talking. She said that most of the time at home she doesn't say anything because she's afraid of saying the wrong thing. She doesn't know how to voice her own opinion, because she has so little practice doing it. She certainly hasn't seen me take risks and just be myself. "I told her that her pain was my fault. I had not loved her unconditionally, I had not known how to listen to her, and I had not taught her how to be herself. She became more relaxed and peaceful than I have ever seen her. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I can help her with those things. I hope so." The world would be a different place if more parents truly listened to their children--as this man did--and also told the truth about themselves. Children would feel loved and confident, and with those qualities they become infinitely better equipped to be happy and productive. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.289 2012-01-24T05:22:03Z 2012-01-24T05:22:52Z

On the island of Hawaii the volcano Kilauea is constantly spewing lava, which flows down to the sea and adds an average of thirty-two acres of new land per year to the island. New volcanic rock is not hospitable to...

Greg Baer As you find and share Real Love, you become an island of life in a world that often appears devoid of genuine life. It can be a great responsibility, but the rewards are similarly rich. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.288 2012-01-20T15:08:14Z 2012-01-20T15:11:38Z

Caroline called to complain that her husband, Jeremy, had become defensive when she tried to point out something he was doing that she didn't like. "I was just trying to help," she said. "No, you weren't," I said. "You were...

Greg Baer Caroline called to complain that her husband, Jeremy, had become defensive when she tried to point out something he was doing that she didn't like. "I was just trying to help," she said. "No, you weren't," I said. "You were trying to control him." "No, I wasn't, and I said it nicely too." "Sorry, kid, but I just don't believe you, on either count." I had the advantage of having witnessed quite a number of interactions between the two of them. "How do you know? You weren't there. I was there!" She was quite proud of her incontestible statement of fact. "Actually, dear, you were not there. You are so afraid--all the time--that all you see is what might hurt you. Your fears make you blind--blind to who you are, blind to what you do and say, and blind to others. On many occasions I've heard you describe an incident that I personally witnessed, so I've seen how your fears fatally distort what you see and hear. When you're afraid, you really are not there." Fear makes us selfish, stupid, and blind. Until we recognize our fears, we can't function in the real world. Instead we inhabit a virtual world--a false, dangerous, and unfulfilling world created by our fears. tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.287 2012-01-18T13:09:49Z 2012-01-18T22:11:33Z

Daniel called and expressed his unhappiness. "I'm just not feeling the love. I understand it in my head, but I'm not feeling it." This is a very common problem among people who study Real Love. The principles make sense to...

Greg Baer "And why would I do that?" "Because you care about me?" "Yes, and what is another word for that?" "Love?" "Of course." "So why don't I feel it?" "Because you don't believe you're worth loving. With their words and behavior, your parents and others told you that you were lovable only if you met certain standards--if you were smart, clean, cooperative, grateful, and so on. They 'loved' how you made them feel, and you were smart enough to figure out what that meant--that who you really were was not good enough. In other words, you were not worth loving unconditionally." Daniel let out a long sigh. "That's it. I really don't believe I'm worth loving." "And who told you that?" "The people you just described." "And what were they like? Were they unconditionally loving?" "No." "So you've chosen to believe the judgments of people who were empty, afraid, and blind." "I guess so." "You had no choice. When someone in a position of trust and authority tells a child that something is true, is simply becomes true. These people told you that you were worthless, and you believed them. It became an incontrovertible FACT for you. So now when I tell you that you are worth loving, it simply doesn't fit into the world you were taught. You can't believe it." "So what can I do?" "First, you have to see that your entire past life was a lie. You were taught lies. Everything you believe about yourself was founded on lies. Nobody meant to hurt you in this way--nobody meant to lie to you--but they did it anyway, and the effect on you has been horrifying. If I'm careless with a gun, I can easily kill you accidentally. Then I can claim that I didn't mean to do it, but you'll still be dead." "Sometimes I feel dead." "So the first part of changing is intellectual. You have to understand that all the fearful and blind people in your life couldn't possibly have told you the truth about yourself. They didn't even see the truth about themselves. All lies. If you really get that, you can take a big step toward adopting beliefs that are true." "Okay, what's the second part." "That's harder. You simply have to trust me--trust me that I won't hurt you, that I won't lie to you, and that I will love you." "How do I do that?" "Trust is a decision, kid. You choose to trust, and in this case it's not that hard. It's still a leap of faith, sure, but the leap isn't that great. How much evidence do you have that I care about you?" "Quite a bit." "And do I strike you as afraid and blind, as the other people have been in your life?" "No, not at all." "So if I'm not afraid and blind, would I be able to see you more clearly?" "Yes, I guess so." "You guess so?" "Yes, you would see me more clearly." "By a lot. The opinions of a million blind people mean nothing compared to the statement of a single person who can see. And what have I told you about yourself?" "That I'm worth loving." "So, first you recognize that you've lived in a world of lies, and then you decide to trust that I'm telling you the truth. If you can do that, you can begin to feel the love you're already being given." Feeling loved is wonderful, but for most of us it's unfamiliar. When we're stressed, we tend to do what we know, not what is right. We tend to believe what we've been taught, not what is true. When we're afraid, we reach out to control the people and things around us, but Real Love can't be controlled. It can only be given and received freely. That lack of control adds another layer of unfamiliarity and fear to trusting that someone can love us. If you don't feel loved and genuinely happy, take the leap of faith. It's the only way. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.286 2012-01-13T15:24:23Z 2012-01-19T02:29:00Z

On the island of Sulawesi in Indonesia, the natives employ a most unusual method of fishing. They gather the webs of a certain spider in the jungle and roll them into a kind of spindle, which is then attached to...

Greg Baer They gather the webs of a certain spider in the jungle and roll them into a kind of spindle, which is then attached to a string held by the fisherman in his boat. The string is tied to a kite made of palm leaf, so that as the kite flies over the water, the spindle of spider web functions as a lure dancing across the surface. This is all done to attract needlefish, an unusually long (as much as three feet--one meter) but slender species with mouths generally too small to swallow a traditional fishing hook. When the needlefish strikes the spider web, its tiny, sharp teeth and rough scales become entangled in the webbing, and the fisherman can easily pull in his catch. A lure can be used over and over, catching dozens of fish. Praise, power, money, sex, entertainment, and more constitute similar lures for us. As we strike at them, we become entangled in their web, which pulls us to our doom. We must be diligently conscious of the effects of the goals we pursue, certain that they lead to genuine happiness rather than ensnaring and harming us. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.285 2012-01-11T13:54:42Z 2012-01-19T02:51:21Z

For years Allison had been in and out of a relationship with Philip, and--not coincidentally--her progress toward genuine happiness had been negligible. She called me to complain about something at work. "When was the last time you saw Phil?" I...

Greg Baer but I am observing that being around him isn't good for you. Do you like peanuts?" Allison looked at me quizzically, since it appeared I was changing the subject, but she answered, "Sure." "Me too. They taste good, and they can even be good for you. But do you know anyone with a peanut allergy?" "Yes." "Even the dust from peanuts can kill some people, so it's obvious that peanuts--although delicious and nutritious for some people--can be very bad." "Okay." "You have a peanut allergy with Phil. You can't be around him. He completely empties you out and becomes a deadly distraction from the happiness you really want. He might be a good person--I'm not questioning that--but he's obviously not good for you." For years Julie had made tiny steps forward in Real Love, only to have it all erased by her association with Phil, who drained her completely. We're not blaming Phil, just identifying that a relationship with him was too difficult for Julie. We all know such people. In some cases, we need to avoid them permanently. In other cases--notably family members--we need to avoid them until we become loving enough not to be adversely affected by them. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.284 2012-01-10T01:17:26Z 2012-01-10T01:21:03Z

For many years Julie had used guilt and intimidation to control every thought, word, and behavior of her husband, Don. This is hardly an accusation, since she was doing only what she had been taught all her life by her...

Greg Baer pay the price for the choices you make." "What do you mean?" "If you go to the store, can you pick out anything you want to buy?" "Sure." "In the same way that you can make any choice in life. But after you've chosen an item in the store, can you choose how much you want to pay for it?" "No, you have to pay the sticker price." "Exactly. You can make any choice you want, but then you have to pay the price attached to it--not the price you want." "Of course." "But you don't believe that's true when it comes to your relationships, including the one with Julie." "I don't understand." "You really can make any choice you want with her, but then you believe that if you choose selfishly, you can still have a loving relationship with her. But that's not true. If you're selfish, you will be less loving and less happy yourself, Julie will feel less cared for, and your relationship will be injured. Those are the prices you pay for selfishness, and there's no way around that." We've all heard and understood he expression, "You get what you pay for," but we're not nearly as quick to understand that we pay for whatever we get. If we do understand and remember, we'll tend to make wiser and happier choices. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.283 2012-01-06T15:55:24Z 2012-01-06T15:57:42Z

Corinne said to me, "I'm disgusted with my life." "Really?" I said. "Name a specific thing you're disgusted about." "I'm so fat!" "So rather than argue about whether you really are fat--which is debatable--let's just accept what you believe. Let's...

Greg Baer judge that it's disgusting and feel disgusted about it. In this case, I suggest that you've accepted the judgments and feelings of other people that being fat is disgusting." "Like who?" "You tell me. Almost without exception, we accept the judgments taught to us earliest and most often. For example, what did your father say about people who were fat?" "He said they lacked self-control. You could tell that he especially thought that fat women were ugly." "And your mother?" "She would tell me that I didn't need to eat this thing or that thing, because it might make me fat. Her facial expression told the real story about what she thought about fat people. And there were many times she told me that I was prettier than my sister, who was heavier than I was. It was pretty clear that being thin was good, while being fat was bad." "So your parents did communicate--rather powerfully, actually--that being fat was disgusting. And you've heard that message from other people all your life. Nearly every magazine and movie openly or indirectly states that being thin is the desirable condition, which could only lead us to conclude that being fat is disgusting. Little wonder, then, that you believe it." "I'd never seen it quite like that." "By contrast, have you ever known someone who was unconditionally loving who expressed disgust at someone else being fat?" "I only know a tiny handful of loving people, but no, I have not heard them express that message in any way." "So, people use being thin as a false way of feeling worthwhile, and those same people make fun of heavier people as a way of confirming their own worth. Yes?" "Certainly seems so." "When people are not unconditionally loving--which is true of almost everyone--can they clearly see other people?" "I'm not sure." "No, they can't. When people are not truly loving, they can't see anything clearly. They see only what they want and what they're afraid of, so they can't see who they really are. They can't see other people either. They can't think or feel clearly. Their emptiness and fear make them blind and stupid. Not a criticism, just a description of how it is." "Okay." "And yet you walk around all day concerned about what these blind and stupid people think of you--in every way, your 'fatness' being just one example. I'm not telling you whether you should be thinner or heavier. In fact, I'm not telling you that you should be anything. But I am saying that believing the judgments of blind people isn't making you happy." Most of us spend our entire lives trying to earn the conditional approval of people who can't see us and who will never truly love us. Seems like a waste. Seems like it might be worth reconsidering the way we see ourselves. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.282 2012-01-04T14:17:36Z 2012-01-04T14:26:24Z

One day I was watching an interaction between Matthew and his wife, Louise, who was critical and attacking toward him and toward many other people who were not present. If words had an odor, we'd have been in an outhouse....

Greg Baer should have spoken, only asking a true question, to learn more about Matthew. "I didn't say anything," he said, "because I thought my silence was better than picking up a wrench and splitting her skull with it." You might suppose that during his interaction with Louise, Matthew was simply suppressing his anger, which might not appear to be loving. Certainly he didn't express his understanding of her, or touch her gently, or kiss her on the forehead. But he recognized that he wasn't capable of that level of loving. What he did recognize was that he and Louise had experienced a great many bitter, contentious arguments in the past, and he had learned that they never, ever led to an increase in love or intimacy. So he made a conscious choice to do the most loving thing he was capable of in that moment: he simply shut his mouth. Rarely are we capable of being perfectly loving, even for moments. So there's no need to make ourselves feel guilty about our failure to attain the nearly unattainable. It's not usually productive to motivate ourselves with stern reminders of what we "should" be doing. It's much more realistic--and far more consistently satisfying--to focus on being as loving as we're capable of being in any given moment. For Matthew, that meant closing his mouth instead of smacking his wife across hers. For you that might mean listening instead of arguing. It might involve a gentle smile or touch. It might even mean simply leaving the room instead of beginning or continuing an argument. Be aware of the spectrum of loving, and that you can't be at the extreme loving end all the time. Enjoy what you can do. Be grateful for it. Gradually improve on it. That will be enough. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2012:/blog/greg//1.281 2012-01-02T14:07:24Z 2012-01-02T14:09:21Z

Bill told me that Joan was always spending time with everybody but him. They were both retired, and Bill said, "I feel like I'm by myself all the time." I asked a number of questions, and it turned out that...

Greg Baer recognize it. Try an experiment. Just notice whether you tend to be grateful for what you have, or do you tend to complain about what you don't have. Do you tend to say, 'Thank you," or do you tend to say, "I want"? Then take action. Every time she chooses to spend time with you, thank her for being thoughtful and loving. You'll discover that two things will happen. First, YOU will enjoy the time you spend with her much more. Gratitude makes every gift far more fulfilling. Second, when you're grateful and happy around her, guess where she'll want to be?" "With me?" "Of course. Now, be careful that you're not grateful so that she'll spend more time with you, or you'll just be manipulating her, and she'll sense that." It is not possible to be grateful and unhappy at the same time. Try your own gratitude experiment, and see what happens. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2011:/blog/greg//1.280 2011-12-30T06:59:59Z 2011-12-30T07:01:39Z

Jerry had been studying Real Love for several months and practicing the principles with his wife, Marge. "I just keep screwing it up," Jerry said. "I know the right thing to do, but when Marge starts in with criticizing me,...

Greg Baer feel first? When Marge criticizes you, how do you feel about yourself?" "I feel terrible. Worthless." "Like garbage?" "Yeah." "So you feel like garbage, because Marge is telling you with her criticism and her tone that you are garbage, right?" "Yes." "And the only reason you'd believe that message is if the people you trusted early in your life--almost certainly your parents--communicated to you that when you made mistakes, they thought you were garbage and made you feel bad about it. Still true?" "Yes." "I have the advantage of not being in the conflict. I'm not afraid, and I don't have an agenda, so I can see what is really happening. Do you believe that?" "That makes sense." "When you make mistakes, YOU are NOT garbage, but you've had so many people tell you that you are, that you believe them when you make mistakes. Then, hearing that you are garbage makes you feel unloved and afraid, and you respond in ways to protect yourself. The ways you respond to your fears ARE garbage--in that they are unloving and unproductive--but it's your past judgments and FEARS that are garbage, not YOU. See the difference?" You are not garbage, but when you made mistakes, many people convinced you that you were less worthwhile--garbage. Then you learned to respond with behaviors that ARE garbage, and many people use those responses to prove that you're garbage. Ironically, those are often the very people that falsely convinced you that you were garbage in the first place, the same people who made you afraid and taught you to respond to your fears in unproductive way--garbage. We must begin to associate with people who see us as being more than our mistakes, who can see who we really are and help us to break our falsely negative opinions of ourselves. When that can happen, our fears disappear, and our harmful reactions disappear with them. ]]> tag:reallovecoaching.net,2011:/blog/greg//1.279 2011-12-28T14:50:25Z 2011-12-28T14:50:57Z

Jill called me and told me that she was so angry at her husband she could spit. She began to deliver a litany of his "crimes," and after thirty seconds or so I said, "Do your feet hurt?" "What?" she...

Greg Baer Jill called me and told me that she was so angry at her husband she could spit. She began to deliver a litany of his "crimes," and after thirty seconds or so I said, "Do your feet hurt?" "What?" she asked. "My feet?" "Yes, your feet. When you have a tantrum about somebody else, it's like you're jumping up and down on broken glass. The other person rarely even cares, but you keep jumping up and down, cutting your own feet to shreds. So I was wondering if your feet were hurting." Anger doesn't help anyone. It doesn't help the other person, it makes you completely selfish and alone, and it destroys relationships. Now, I am NOT saying that you SHOULDN'T be angry. Oh no, not at all. But simply venting on and on is only harmful. If you're angry, fine, but share that feeling with someone capable of loving you and helping you see wiser choices. THAT is what we can do with anger, instead of jumping up and down on broken glass.