A letter to Tom Strong

and a Review of his article

Do You Want this Story to

Die with You?

To Tom Strong:

 

I just finished reading your fine article in JST on "Do You Want This Story to Die With You?" - co-authored with your client. There was so much I appreciated about this article! Its collaborative nature, the concept of a "stalled dialogue" as the source of emotional stuckness, and the homework of finding a way to tell the story. The article raised a number of curiosities (all with emotional components) for me which others on this list may be interested in as well.

 

 1. I realized that most of my clients tend to tell me (eagerly) everything that has been "stalled" elsewhere, - particularly in their most intimate relationships. Because my husband has in fact died, I thought of the stories that may have died with him, and also of the stories I never successfully told him. And I thought of how often in my work with couples and families, we all recognize that what appears to be a very natural urge to tell the stories of our experience, becomes thwarted in children - and then in lovers (after the amazing "honeymoon phase" during which once again the urge to speak it all shows up for most of us). This begins to happen so subtly, so pervasively, and is rationalized and culturally supported.

 

 So I began to inquire of myself (once again, I imagine), how I as a speaker justify my stalled dialogue and how I as a listener make it difficult for those closest to me to tell the whole story of their experience. What is clear in your article is that you have virtually nothing going on in your listening other than "curiosity and compassion" (to quote Richard Schwarz). It is amazing how difficult it is to maintain the simplicity of that type of listening in all our relationships. I think that the goal of being able to do that is perhaps the biggest goal of my life (especially if I include listening to myself that way, and listening to "life" itself that way).

 

 2. I also thought a bit about the meaning of "story" in the context of our "post-modern" thinking. Story is always a complex interface of perception and "fact." When I tell my story to an intimate other, my perception of my experience may of course conflict with theirs in problematic ways. Whereas when a client tells me the story of an event (as Tom Flynn told you about the massacre), I usually have no concern whatsoever with how their perception might differ from another person's. Even if their story is about their relationship with me, and seems (in my view) to be distorting the "facts," I have no difficulty in engaging in a dialogue that is curious and compassionate.

 

 So one of the most important aspects of your core question, "Do you want that story to die with you?" has to do with the one-sidedness of some (all?) stories when dialogue has been aborted. The question then becomes: "Do you want your version of that story to die with you?" For example, my husband and I each had stories of being mistreated or misunderstood by the other. When dialogue was stalled, we never had the incredible gift that comes from experiencing the "heart" of the other person.

 

 Recently I have been learning more about Marshall Rosenberg's "Non-violent Communication" approach. He (and others trained in NVC) are actually opening up two-way dialogues between rapists and rape victims (doing :"restorative justice" work in prisons), as well as political enemies who have been murdering each other's people. In each case, one of the complexities, of course, is that there are real victims and real perpetrators (i.e., it would be terribly unjust to say that oppression is just a story). But it is astounding and deeply moving to imagine that no dialogue need be permanently stalled.

 

 Thank you, Tom (and thank Tom Flynn), for the gift of this article and your accomplished work together.

 

Maryhelen Snyder