The Power of TED* (*The Empowerment Dynamic): 10th Anniversary Edition
176
The Power of TED* (*The Empowerment Dynamic): 10th Anniversary Edition
176eBook
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780996871815 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Polaris Publishing |
| Publication date: | 03/15/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 176 |
| Sales rank: | 600,986 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
A Fateful Meeting
From the bench where I sat overlooking the beach, it seemed I could see forever. The ocean spread out in a blue expanse, undulating its way into infinity. Yet I couldn't really enjoy it. Inside I was constricted. The surf, some hundred feet below the bluff on which my bench sat, normally would have sounded soothing. Its calm was lost on me as I struggled with an insistent emptiness inside.
It had been a particularly painful period. The bloom was, indeed, off the rose. A couple of years ago, my wife and I had bought the perfect suburban starter home, nothing lacking but the white picket fence. We had envisioned it as the place to start our family; for so long we had dreamed about having children. Then, months after the untimely death of my dad, with whom I had been very close, we received word from our doctor that I was infertile. Not only had I lost Dad, but now I felt that I was the victim of my biology. To my mind, the link between generations — first between me and my dad, and now between me and the child I had dreamed of fathering — was permanently shattered.
After months of anguishing over options, my wife entered her grief and withdrew from our fragile marriage, unwilling to consider adoption or medical alternatives. Feeling abandoned and alone, I descended into despair as we separated and, eventually, divorced. I was bereft.
Everywhere I looked, my life hurt. Tears filled my eyes and the beauty of the beach before me became even more obscured. I had always assumed I would have a family when the time was right, and that the marriage vows of "in good times and bad" would see us through any trials and tribulations. Not so. The time, it seemed, was never, and the vow proved to be conditional. I lived a good moral and ethical life. The questions swirled and tumbled through my mind: "What sort of karma is this? What seeds have I sown to reap this unjust penalty? Why me?" The void felt as big as the sea before me.
I took my pen from the clasp of my leather-bound journal and opened it to a new page. This repository of my thoughts and questions and yearnings had been a constant companion over the years. Journaling had become a way of processing my experiences, and I was grateful for the insights that often emerged.
As I wrote, emotions washed over me and my rational mind found its still, small voice. Instead of answering my questions, it simply whispered that this was the hand I had been dealt. Life was challenging me to find a way through what seemed to be a life of powerlessness and victimization.
In this struggle between heart and head, inwardly I cried out to Spirit, "I'm sick and tired of feeling so small!" And in that moment, I chose to surrender my stance as Victim. But for the life of me, I didn't know what to replace it with. "What," I wrote, "is the opposite of Victim?" If the crashing waves contained the answer, I didn't understand their language.
In that moment I closed the journal and returned the pen to the holder that served as a clasp. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, savoring the salt air. Again I inquired, "What is the opposite of Victim?" This time the response was immediate: "Creator," the inner voice announced.
"The opposite of Victim is Creator."
I felt a chill course up my spine, and I took a deep, full breath of sea air. Suddenly there emerged a feeling I had not had in a very long time. A fresh sense of hope began to make itself known. I sat for a few precious moments drinking in the sounds of the surf and the release that accompanied the revelation of this new and different way of being in the world.
I wondered, "What does it mean to know that the opposite of Victim is Creator? What do I do now?" I knew I had to stay open and receptive to whatever guidance might be forthcoming.
A New Friend
I don't know how many minutes I sat there, enveloped by the sounds and the scents of the sea, before I heard the faint sound of footsteps on the sandy path leading up to the bench.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw that someone had silently joined me on my seaside bench. He sighed, "What a sight. It's hard not to be inspired from this vantage point, wouldn't you say?" All I could do was nod. I managed a slight smile.
"Hi, I'm Ted," he said, extending his hand. "Mind if I sit here? I don't mean to intrude."
I shook his firm, friendly, and strangely familiar hand. "David," I simply said.
I had come to that bluff overlooking the sea to contemplate, to try to make some sense out of the unexpected twists and turns my life had taken. It seemed that a new choice was being offered me, though I was anything but clear about what it all meant. My emotions were caught in a crosscurrent between grief and hope. Despite the new direction I had been given from within, I felt disoriented.
And now here was this friendly stranger beside me. He had a walking stick — more like a staff — that he held with both hands between his knees. I couldn't tell if it was fashioned from the branch of a tree or if it had been a long piece of driftwood that may have washed up on the beach. In any case, it was worn smooth except for a few knots that appeared like dark eyes along the shaft.
We sat there in silence for a long time. I didn't know it yet, but I had just met a teacher who would help me answer some of the most important questions in my life. It was the beginning of getting to know Ted.
"So, what brings you here to this bench and this magnificent moment?" he asked.
A fair question, I thought. But who was this guy? Why should I tell a stranger what was going on with me? There was a quiet expectancy in his presence, as if he knew I had something to share. Yet there was a spaciousness that put no pressure on me to speak right away. I sensed that I could wait five seconds, five minutes, or five hours. Time was not of the essence — what was on my mind and heart was. There was a comfort I felt. He seemed so friendly and his question was certainly an open invitation.
I ventured forth, "Oh, I've come here to think. You know, just to sit and reflect."
"That's good to do from time to time. It's all too easy to run through life without reflecting. Life's lessons can be lost if you never pause.
What a beautiful place to come and take stock."
"Yes, it is," I replied, "though I have to admit I sometimes lose sight of all this beauty when I get caught up in my own drama."
"Oh yes, drama," Ted remarked. "That seems to be such a big part of the human experience. Look at all these people walking on the beach. Every one of them probably has some sort of drama going on in their lives. They all have their stories. What, if I may ask, is yours? I don't mean to intrude. I'm just curious."
Then it all spilled out. I told him about everything: my recent divorce, the death of my dad. I even told him about my infertility. He nodded, encouraging me. I didn't detect even an ounce of judgment coming from Ted — or pity, for that matter. He looked out over the ocean, turning my way occasionally and nodding in acknowledgment. Emboldened by his calm acceptance, I shared the full depth of my inner struggle, how I had felt like a victim. The whole mess just flowed out, as Ted listened. For some reason, though, I wasn't quite ready yet to divulge the revelation that Creator was my new alternative, the stance I must take to replace the old sense of being a victim of my own life. Instead I said, "I've come to see how much of my life I have lived from the perspective of being a victim. I'm ready for something else."
Ready for BFOs
"You're not alone, you know," said Ted. "Victimhood is the malaise of humanity. It is everywhere, in every language. Most news reports are stories of Victims and Persecutors and, sometimes, Rescuers. People look for someone to blame. Sometimes they demand compensation for their victimization; sometimes they strike back. Terrorists attack and leave victims in their wake, all the while describing themselves as victims of oppression. On the roadways, some drivers feel so victimized by the chaos of traffic that they're filled with rage and lash out. People talk about being victims of abuse and neglect, victims of alcoholic or drug-addicted parents, even victims of birth order among siblings. At work, people talk about their victimization at the hands of an insensitive boss, a backstabbing coworker, or the company they work for. Some people feel constantly victimized by that elusive goblin they call 'the system.'"
I let his words sink in. As I thought about how often I gave voice to my own sense of victimhood, I offered, "It's amazing, isn't it, how often we use the blaming words of victimization: The traffic made me late. I got up on the wrong side of the bed. I ended up in the wrong lane at the grocery store. The examples are endless. There must be a better way."
Ted turned and put his hand on my shoulder. "It's true, there is."
I asked him, "But who are you, anyway? What brings you to this spot overlooking the beach?"
Ted wrapped his hands around his staff and looked out at the scene before us. "I come here a lot, to take in the ocean and to do the kind of contemplation that just naturally arises in this beautiful place. Today I saw you here, so I came over to sit and share a few thoughts."
"Thoughts about what?"
"About the very subject you've introduced — about being a Victim and the desire for a different way of being in the world. I've learned a few things that I think you may find useful, things that may surprise you."
"Well, if you know something that I don't, I mean about not being a Victim, well, then I'm all ears," I said.
"Good," said Ted. "You need to know, however, that what I have to say could make you a little uncomfortable. That's because what I say will probably challenge the ways you engage with just about every area of your life. Your relationships. Your work. The way you deal with disappointments. Everything. Are you up for that?"
I looked out at the waves rising and rolling into the shore. Why had this spirited stranger suddenly shown up by my side? The encounter had a dreamlike quality. I wasn't sure what to say. I could have got up and walked away, but I didn't want to. Somehow I felt entirely at ease with Ted. And I was intrigued.
Ted continued, "If this sounds interesting to you and you want to hear more, then it's only fair to warn you: Be prepared to be visited by BFOs."
I chuckled and turned to him. "I'm going to be visited by UFOs?"
"No ... BFOs. A BFO is a Blinding Flash of the Obvious. It's something you already know but which lies just beyond the edge of your conscious awareness. When they come, welcome them. A BFO is a very positive sign. It means that you're awakening to new ways of thinking and being."
"Oh, good. For a minute there I thought you were about to tell me that you were from outer space," I laughed.
"If anything, I'm from inner space!"
"Who are you, then?" I said.
"Just a friend, bringing you a lighthearted approach to a most serious subject: how you relate to your life experiences. You could say I'm a countercultural type. I live in the world in my own way. So many people meet their life experience from the Victim Orientation — just as you've begun to notice for yourself. I have a different orientation. It's a simple way of being, though it's not always easy.
"I guess I'm also a revolutionary — or, rather, an evolutionary! As an evolutionary facilitator, I'd like to offer you another way to live — if you choose it. At the end of the day, what you do will always be your choice. No one can ever take that away from you. In fact, it's why you're here: to make the choices that create your life."
It was a lot to take in. I searched his face. He didn't look like a fanatic. In fact, the gentleness in his eyes made me feel relaxed in spite of all my recent turmoil. He added, "I won't mind if you'd rather not do this right now, you know. It's entirely up to you. In the end, it's all about choice."
My choice. I sat another moment in silence as Ted waited patiently. Should I leave, or stay and see where this weird conversation might go? I decided I had nothing to lose. And anyway, listening to Ted was already a lot more interesting than wallowing in the worries that had brought me up here in the first place.
"Would you like to walk with me for awhile, down on the beach?" asked Ted.
"Okay, sure."
Ted and I got up together and started down the meandering path to the shore. Little did I know that I was setting out on the path to a whole new way of seeing.
CHAPTER 2The Dreaded Drama Triangle
We walked down the slope of the bluff onto a path that wound its way to the sandy shore below.
"So, David, tell me more about your thoughts on victimhood," Ted suggested.
"Well," I said, "it seems like victimhood is all-pervasive. I've been thinking about it since I learned about the Drama Triangle. Ever heard of it?"
"Tell me more."
"It comes from the work of Stephen Karpman, a psychotherapist who described the Triangle in the late 1960s. It involves three roles, all of which I play pretty well."
"Yes," said Ted, "it's been around a while, all right. That model has helped countless people make sense of their situations. What strikes you about it?"
I told Ted what I had learned about the Drama Triangle. "The central role is Victim, when I feel as if other people or situations are acting upon me, and I can't do anything about it. Sometimes it feels like being attacked, and sometimes it's just a hardship. I might feel mistreated or discounted, and maybe out of control.
"The second role is Persecutor or perpetrator in situations of abuse. The Persecutor is the perceived cause of the Victim's woes.
"The third role is Rescuer, the one who intervenes on behalf of the victim, to deliver the victim from harm by the Persecutor."
Just then, Ted and I rounded a bend into a jagged maze of sandstone blocking the path to the beach. As I stepped out of the rocks and onto the sandy path, my foot gave way. Whomp! I landed squarely on my rear. We laughed (nothing was hurt but my pride), and Ted offered his hand. "Here let me help," he said, pulling me upright. I spanked the sand off the seat of my pants, and we continued gingerly down the path.
"That was an interesting example of what you just described."
"How's that?" I asked.
"Did you feel like a Victim when you fell back there?" Ted asked.
"I guess so, in a way."
"So, if you were the Victim, who was the Persecutor?"
"You were in front of me, so I know you didn't push me," I chuckled. "So I'm not sure there was a Persecutor."
"Every Victim requires a Persecutor," Ted explained. "But the Persecutor isn't always necessarily a person. The Persecutor could also be a condition or a circumstance. A persecuting condition might be a disease, such as cancer or a heart attack or an injury. A persecuting circumstance could be a natural disaster, like a hurricane or an earthquake or a house burning down. So, what was the Persecutor in your situation just now?"
I thought for a moment. "The loose sand, maybe, or my shoes," I observed.
"Right," said Ted. "Either of those could be identified as Persecutor. And I was the Rescuer when I reached down to help you up. It's a simple example and there was no real harm done in this situation, but you just saw all three parts of the Drama Triangle in action.
"Other people encounter much more intense versions of the Drama Triangle every day," he continued. "Whether it is subtle or intense, the effort to observe and understand this pattern is the first step in breaking the cycle of Victimhood."
We paused to survey the length of the shore. Seagulls called out as they glided along the surf line. The waves roared, as a fine mist swept over us. I breathed deeply.
"Let's walk a little closer to the water. I want to show you something." Ted moved with ease. His gait was relaxed as he matched his pace to mine. As we walked, he glanced down at the shells and bits of driftwood marking the sand. Ted bent down, picked up a seashell, and began tracing a large triangle in the moist, hard-packed sand.
Victimhood, the Death of a Dream
"Here's the Drama Triangle you were talking about," said Ted. "It's great that you know about these three roles. Let's look at the dynamics that take place between them."
"Here's the Victim." He scratched the letter V in the sand.
"Victims may be defensive, submissive, over-accommodating to others, passive-aggressive in conflict, dependent on others for self-worth, overly sensitive, even manipulative. They're often angry, resentful, and envious, feeling unworthy or ashamed about their circumstances. Have you ever felt or acted this way?"
I remembered the months before my wife and I had separated, how I had alternated between walking on eggshells and blaming her — often loudly — for the distance growing between us. I loathed my fearful pattern in romantic relationships: an unspoken agreement to be whoever my partner wanted, resentfully avoiding her abandonment.
"These roles describe attitudes I usually associate with other people," I said, "but I see how I've acted in some of the same ways myself."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Power Of TED (The Empowerment Dynamic)"
by .
Copyright © 2016 David Emerald.
Excerpted by permission of Polaris Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Copyright,
Foreword by Lisa Lahey,
New Preface for the 10th Anniversary Edition,
Chapter 1. A Fateful Meeting,
Chapter 2. The Dreaded Drama Triangle,
Chapter 3. A Drawing in the Sand,
Chapter 4. The Victim Orientation,
Chapter 5. Another Friend,
Chapter 6. The Creator Orientation,
Chapter 7. Dynamic Tension,
Chapter 8. The Empowerment Dynamic,
Chapter 9. Shift Happens,
Chapter 10. A Fond Farewell,
A Note from the Author,
Questions for the Journey,
Appendix,
Acknowledgments,
Related Subjects
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