Jennifer Cassidy
Lately, a lot of the conversations in my house start with the word “when”: “when the house renovations are done”; or “when we have more money”, or “when we have more time”, and even “when the kids are older”. It seems that my husband and I are always waiting for something, because something else is always stopping us from getting where we want to go. When I married my dear husband, he warned me about the “Cassidy luck” – meaning that if something can go wrong, it will. It really does seem that we have our fair share of trouble, lately too – house renovations are on hold while we fix the truck, the truck repairs are on hold while we wait for a new part, the new part is on hold while we wait for more money. Sometimes I think “Hurry Up and Wait” should be our family motto.
In the practice of yoga, there are four principles of self-discipline, or Niyamas. One of these principles is that of “Santosha”: the practice of developing equanimity with all things. To put it another way, Santosha is the acceptance that all things are both flawed and perfect at the same time, that everything is part of a larger dynamic system of life and death, and that the only constant thing in the universe is unending change. This acceptance that everything in one’s life is part of the larger system of the universe, and that change and complexity in that system is inevitable, allows the yogi to “loosen her grip” and roll gracefully over life’s bumpy road: the yogi reduces the complexity in their lives by accepting change as part of the process of life. I’ve been thinking that practicing Santosha on a personal level is similar in some ways to using Systems Thinking to work through complexity and change in organizations: in many organizations the most commonly heard words are “when” or “if”: “if accounting would just…” or “when the engineers get the act together…” for example. Systems Thinking means seeing the organization as a system and that everything that you need to solve the organizations problems is achievable by working with the organization as a system, rather than a set of unrelated parts with problems that need to be isolated and “fixed”.
It seems the more I practice yoga and the more I learn about the process of Systems Thinking, the more I realize that these two practices are really about behaving in a conscious manner. The consciousness that is required to practice equanimity in one’s personal life by making the decision to be “roll with the punches” of life and just be okay with what is happening in the here and now, and the critical consciousness that is required to practice Systems Thinking by leveraging change in an organization to produce positive results, are similar. In terms of outcomes, yogis know that physical and emotional abundance is the reward for practicing contentment with what is here and now, with being equanimous with the unending change in the world. Similarly, Systems Thinking practitioners know that the reward for equanimity within an organization means working with an organization as a whole system and consciously making decisions that put the organization in the position of riding the crest of constant change, and the reward is the same: abundance follows.
So, taking a little from my yoga practice and a little from Systems Thinking, I’ve been trying to see my household as a system in which change is not a disruption but more of a way of being. I’m trying to start conversations more constructively: instead of “when” I’ve been practicing saying “how” or “why”. I figure knowing the system means knowing how to make constructive decisions about the system rather than getting off on a track of discontentment about what is happening now: what is changing too fast, and what isn’t changing fast enough. I’ve even been thinking about a new family motto: In mutatione pax…Peace in Change!
Marilyn Herasymowych
Henry and I have always been fascinated with change, specifically with the kind of change that is profound and transformational. In his book, The Dance of Change, Peter Senge defines profound change as “…literally moving toward the fundamental. In profound change there is learning. The organization doesn’t just do something new; it builds its capacity for doing things in a new way – indeed, it builds capacity for ongoing change. … It is not enough to change strategies, structures, and systems, unless the thinking that produced those strategies, structures, and systems also changes (p. 15).” By the late 1990s we had experienced just how hard it was to create the conditions for profound change to occur, and to hold those conditions in place so that the change could be sustained.
On November 6, 1999, we were facilitating an action learning seminar in Ottawa, and were delighted to hear that Douglas Cardinal, a famous Canadian architect, would be the guest speaker in the evening. We had just spent the day with leaders, showing them how action learning is a process that creates profound change, but requires discipline and rules or controls to work. That evening, to our surprise, Douglas Cardinal would support what we had said with his own experience in creating a form of architecture that was itself a profound change. But, it wouldn’t be until I had had two cancer diagnoses that I would reconnect in a much more personal way with what he told us that evening in Ottawa.
In the mid 1960s, Cardinal saw the future in architecture. It was the computer – specifically the computational power of computers. In order for him to continue using his organic curvilinear designs on a larger scale, he would need the help of software that was not yet invented, software that Cardinal himself would help to develop and then beta test, software called computer-aided drafting and design or CADD for short. Cardinal would need one more thing. He would need his architectural and engineering staff to embrace this new way of working.
But his staff did not easily accept this change. They were far too comfortable with their drafting tables and pencils. So, Cardinal removed all of the drafting tables from their offices and broke all their pencils. It was like Cortez burning all of his ships. There would be no way back to the way it was.
Within 10 months of each other, I was diagnosed with two advanced and incurable cancers, both totally unrelated to each other, and both so traumatizing that it would change absolutely everything. Like Cortez, these cancers would burn all of my ships, and like Cardinal they would break all of my pencils. Within days of the first diagnosis, the tumour would almost kill me. The treatment for this cancer would drop a nuclear bomb on my life, creating a landscape with little hope for recovery. The second cancer would nail the coffin shut on what my life used to be. My pencils were now well and truly broken. There was no way back to the way it was.
But like Cardinal’s staff, I would not easily accept my new situation. I would stubbornly hold on to everything I thought my life was supposed to be, including how it was supposed to be after cancer treatment. I would not be swayed from this expectation. I didn’t care that my pencils were broken. I would mend them and life would return to normal. I would get my old life back, and that was it. Even with the death threat of a second cancer diagnosis, I struggled to accept that my life had now changed forever. I knew that acceptance was my only way out of the nuclear wasteland that was now my life, but I just couldn’t go there. Acceptance would require a type of faith that only saints grapple with, and I was not a saint.
Like Cardinal, who never accepted his lot as an architect to build the same old boxes that every other architect seemed to build, I have never accepted myself as a cancer survivor. I don’t want to just survive cancer. I want much more, but what that more now means is still a mystery. Like Cardinal, wanting no boundaries to his dream of building impressive organic buildings, I want a life worth living, regardless of whether or not I survive either of these two diagnoses. And like Cardinal, the software of this new life has not been written yet. I would not only have to write this new software, I would also have to beta-test it, one day at a time.
Today, each day is a struggle to live without my drafting table and with broken pencils. I still wake each morning, believing, for just a moment, that during the night my broken pencils have been mended, and my life is as it was. But then the effort of getting out of bed reminds me that this is not so. Although I still live with my broken pencils, my new future is not about living amongst the wreckage. When cancer broke all of my pencils, surviving was all that I had left. Now I want a life. What that looks like is yet to unfold for me.
Marilyn Herasymowych
From a linear perspective, there is only one truth. We can know it, and thus we act as if it is true. If something tells us that our truth is not true, we easily deflect this by saying that whatever is happening is the problem, not our truth. We easily believe that the stories we tell about the patterns we live are accurate reflections of reality. We believe we know what we need to know about the system, so we operate as if we know enough. We believe that the rules are fixed, and that there is only one way to work within the system, and we must follow that one way.
I knew I had strong linear thinking tendencies, but never realized just how strong they were. My experience with cancer taught me just how deeply linear thinking was ingrained in my ways of operating. I was shell-shocked and deeply wounded by five months of chemo; now I was in “recovery”, a hopeful place, a place of return. I was convinced that I would now regain my ability to think clearly once again, to walk and run and ride my bike, to visit with friends and family, and to go out for evening events like the ballet. I would be myself again. That’s what recovery meant to me. All I needed to do was to figure out when recovery officially started. Then I would be on my way back to health and to work. My last chemo was on July 14, 2009. Add three weeks for the chemo to do its thing. Recovery would start on August 4, 2009. Instead of feeling sicker and sicker, I would now be feeling better and better. That’s what my oncologist told me would happen, so that’s what I expected.
You can hear the linear thinking in my plans to return to normal. There is a normal life that I have, and I will return to it. I even had a time frame as to when this return to normal would start – August 4, 2009. I recall talking with my oncologist and saying I’ll be back at work by October 2009. This was my truth, and to me this was the only truth. But, like everything else in my cancer experience, my recovery would prove to be the exception to the rule.
From a non-linear perspective, truth is an emergent and dynamic property of a system. We cannot know truth, because stories and narratives on which truth rests are socially constructed. The stories we tell about the patterns we live create relational expectations, possibilities, and constraints. We appreciate that we can only understand the partial system, and that stories told cannot be accurate representations of patterns lived. We know little about the system, so we operate as if we do not know everything. We believe that the rules are emergent. The system is dynamic, so we can learn as the system changes. Our learning changes the system, thus creating new rules.
What I had failed to understand was that in my body, in my mind, and in my spirit, something had irrecoverably changed. It would take me more than two years to realize this. I would hold on to my belief that I would get better until the day my belief would be shattered and swept away. I didn’t read the signs very well. How could I? I had never been here before. On the day my recovery started, I actually felt worse, not better. It was almost as if I had had a chemo treatment. What was happening to me was much more complex than I understood at the time. After each chemo, I would complain bitterly about how badly I felt. It felt as if the chemo was still acting on me well after the infusions. But, I was told that the chemo was flushed out of my system in two days, so I was simply feeling the effects from the damage left in the wake of the drugs.
Even though my treatment was over, and the drugs supposedly cleared from my system, the damage from the drugs was still expressing itself. Nobody would tell me why I was feeling worse and not better. After all, most people went back to work within a month of ending this form of chemo.
Being a person who needs a reason for everything, I went in search of an explanation. When I couldn’t find any, I made up my own. What I think happened to me was something I call the cumulative effect. The oncologists do talk about the cumulative effect during chemo, in terms of producing cumulative side effects. In other words, the side effects get worse with each treatment. Oncologists are quick to point out that the side effects start diminishing once treatment is over. But, what if the treatment did more damage to my body because it is so sensitive? What if my body just couldn’t take the cumulative effect that occurred from successive rounds of chemo? What if my body was in breakdown, and the side effects in runaway, like a semi-tractor trailer that loses its brakes as it is going down a hill and can’t stop? My side effects were gaining speed and effect, and there was no exit runaway lane to slow them down. Even though I was no longer receiving chemo, the cumulative effect of six rounds of chemo were still affecting me.
You interpret reality from the stories that you tell, the stories that you live, and the stories yet to be told. These stories are called patterns of meaning and action. When we tell stories about our experience, these stories help us to make sense of our experience. Often, our stories are not that useful in helping us to understand the system in its more complex sense. But they can be useful in helping us to cope with situations in which there are no explanations.
By October 2009, I was so sick that my oncologist was unsure as to whether or not to start me on the two-year maintenance treatment. I was nauseous all of the time. I couldn’t walk without the aid of a walker or canes. I was muddled, unable to think clearly, and having difficulty remembering, and carrying on conversations. I had severe deep muscle hip pain. I had severe neuropathy (a numbness in a glove-and-stocking pattern, from my waist down and from my elbows down). I was always exhausted, no energy even to get through a day without an afternoon nap. I remember asking whether or not doing the two-year maintenance treatment really delayed the cancer coming back. My onocolgist said yes, but was not sure if that was the case in my subtype of cancer. My subtype was so rare that there had not been any studies on it that showed that two years of Rituxin infusions increased the time intervals between cancer flare ups.
Henry and I didn’t know what to do. Before our appointment, we had discussed whether or not it was worth getting sick again with yet another two years of Rituxin. The oncologist said that he wasn’t sure what kind of side effects I would get. He even said most people don’t get any side effects. It was logical to assume that the side effects would be much less, because I was now only taking one drug, not four, and of the four, Rituxin had the least side effects. It was a nightmare. There was no certainty, no stability, and certainly no one truth.
I couldn’t find my way back to the comfort of my linear thinking. All I knew was that I was terrified, terrified of the cancer coming back, terrified of going through chemo again, terrified of yet more treatments with Rituxin for the next two years. We had no data on what would happen to me if I just received Rituxin. So, I closed my eyes and jumped. I took the Rituxin treatment. I was so scared during the infusion that I started reacting to the infusion before it had even started going into my body. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my body was now rebelling. My body was saying no, but I couldn’t hear it. I never recovered, and even though I got a bit better, I never returned to any semblance of normal.
Whether I liked it or not, I was now fully entrenched in the non-linear world of cancer, cancer treatments, recovery, and something called a new normal. My world had changed forever. Even if I got better, I now lived with an incurable cancer that would return again and again about every four to five years. When it came back, I would be subjected to such withering options as more chemo, radiation, and even a stem cell transplant, all of which would probably destroy what little life I now had. I had been too sick to be scared during the chemo. But I was scared now. What if I didn’t get better? What if this was now my life? Henry and I still believed that maybe my recovery would just be slower than other people. It wouldn’t be until Christmas 2009 that it would start to sink in that I was not going to get much better.
In January, 2011, I entered another non-linear hell. I had been experiencing drenching night sweats throughout August-October of 2010, and night sweats were a possible sign that the cancer was coming back. The CT scan showed that I was still clear of any sign of lymphoma, which was really good news. The bad news was that my neuropathy, and lack of ability to walk without aids, was now considered chronic. I now had chronic side effects that would not go away.
Non-linear systems are paradoxical. Ralph D. Stacey, author of Strategic Management and Organisational Dynamics, states that cause and effect and interconnections between agents in the system become unclear because non-linear systems are very complex. Even though people are dealing with the system as if it were operating under simple cause-and-effect rules (linear), the system is more complex, and therefore not producing linear effects. It is producing contradictory effects. Therefore, complex systems require counter-intuitive or non-linear thinking.
I have been in recovery from my lymphoma for just over two years. My life has not returned to the old normal, nor has it arrived at a new normal. In January 2010, I was diagnosed with a second cancer, breast cancer. There’s no question that my world fell apart after the second diagnosis. There was no linear thinking left for me to hold on to, and, in August 2011, I finally surrendered to the forces of non-linear thinking. Nothing is as it seems. What worked before, no longer works now. The lesson that I have learned is that the longer and harder I hold to my fixed ideas of truth, the longer and harder it is to move forward.
This is true for all of us, whether we are talking about our families or world affairs. Holding on no matter what it costs is a form of linear thinking. Linear thinking works really well when there is stability, but fails catastrophically when there is too much instability. Everyday, I watch the world suffocating in its rigid linear thinking as it grapples with an economic system that no longer works. For most people, the answer lies in more of the same, and not in something different. Perhaps the world is simply going through its own form of chemo, side effects, and failed recovery to realize that the answers lie somewhere else – in the land of non-linear thinking.
Note: If you’d like to know more about Marilyn’s cancer journey, check out her blog at www.cancerbrokeallmypencils.com.
Liz Garratt
I am a passionate seeker of new ways to do business in these ever-changing times. New ways to create more authenticity and joy for business owners, businesses, customers and the world. As a long time traveller in the land of business, I like to integrate the best of the traditional when it works, with the more esoteric models – pulling together the finest parts of both worlds. This is my quest – to share my knowledge, expertise and understanding of how to build a business that supports passion, people and profits. One that enriches both your business and personal world.
My approach is simple: blend lightness and playfulness with deep meaning and exploration and throw in a dash of magic. The results are truly amazing.
I love my work. I love my clients. I love my life! It wasn’t always this way. My journey began a long time ago – 25+ years – in the traditional model of business planning and management consulting. That world taught me a great deal, but it was truly missing heart, intuition and the ability to share all of me. And when my heart was no longer in it, I chose to find another way.
What happened?
I dared to follow my heart, to find new ways to offer my gifts and talents to the world. Because if there’s one thing I now know for sure – my level of happiness and satisfaction is directly related to how truly and deeply I follow my heart! I have created a new path, one that brings my desires, passions, skills and intuition to the forefront of my work and my life. On this path, I have found great success for both myself and my clients.
Allowing my gifts to shine in business, unfolded over time. In fact, there was a time they didn’t feel much like gifts at all. My sensitivity and intuition felt more like a curse. Business was not about love, feelings and hunches – it was linear, logical and practical. Thankfully, I have become more comfortable with my innate gifts and am now able to weave them into my work in ways that benefit everyone – including me. I have learned from my own experience and in working with others, that revealing our hearts and soul to the world takes enormous courage. But it is truly worth it. Together with my clients, we explore some pretty amazing places and uncover deeply buried treasures. We nurture the light within and bring it forth to shine in the world.
When Marilyn invited me to post a blog entry, I didn’t realize just how much action learning had influenced me and my process. Marilyn is right about action learning underlying my philosophy. I am always aware of how all that I’ve learned from Marilyn and Henry has so nicely integrated into my work (and life). While my Circles are not “pure” action learning and definitely have more of an organic and spiritual nuance to them – the underlying essence and richness is so similar to my experiences in action learning. I often reflect on this and with hindsight recognize that where I stumbled in the past was trying to mirror Marilyn and Henry and their approach to group processes. With time, and I like to think a bit more confidence and inner wisdom, I have found a way to bring together all the riches I learned from Marilyn and Henry and blend them with other teachings I have gathered over time and my own innate knowing. I love where all of this has taken me and I want Marilyn and Henry to know that they have been (and still are) two of my most precious teachers on this path. I love that Marilyn sees and feels “action learning” in my writings and I feel honoured that she would want to share this with others.
Circles for Women Invitation
You are invited to an afternoon Circle to explore possibilities and next steps for forming and creating Inspired Circles for Women seeking support and sisterhood in their lives and work.
For several months I have felt inspired to tell others about an amazing Circle I am part of. This Circle of woman came together in 2008 as part of my Inspired Business Planning Circle. We have been on a profound path of deep learning, love and unconditional support ever since. Our Circle has deepened and expanded far beyond a “business planning” Circle as over time we have brought more of ourselves and all aspects of our lives and “who we really are” forth into the Circle. We often marvel at how we got here. In this Circle we bring our challenges and successes; our dreams and inspired ideas; our fears and struggles for our businesses, inspired work, our relationships (children, partners, friends, ourselves, clients, colleagues etc.) our health, our personal and spiritual growth and development. After 3 years, there is nothing off bounds – nothing that can’t be brought into the Circle for unconditional love, understanding and support. We continue to grow each time one of us dares to reveal something new – whether it is how something within or outside the Circle triggers us or something extremely private, personal and risky that we are ready to bring forth. There is nothing that shows up that is not greeted with honesty, love and grace. We didn’t begin this way – but over time this Circle has become a safe, reliable haven for each of us and every aspect of our being and lives.
In many ways, this Circle is the manifestation of a dream and fantasy I have held forever. I have always imagined –often pined for – a place where I could show up in the fullness of me and be loved, seen, heard and accepted – and everyone else could show up in the same way. A place where all of our light and darkness is welcomed and embraced. Each of us have grown to see ourselves as strong, capable, creative and resourceful women – so there is no need (or desire) for old patterns of rescuing or saving others; it is strongly prohibited in fact. Each of us shows up with the full commitment and intention of taking care of and responsibility for ourselves. No one gets away with avoiding their own stuff through fixing others – how liberating and refreshing! In many ways this Circle is something I have fantasized about and envisioned for most of my life, yet never believed it was really possible. In many ways, my experience in this Circle exceeds my imaginations and dreams. Its creation has largely been phenomenological – we couldn’t have “planned” it if we had tried – we have been divinely blessed.
This Circle has strengthened, enriched, enhanced and fuelled my personal, business and spiritual growth and unfolding – as it has every woman in my Circle.
I have a new dream and fantasy now - I envision and imagine a world where every woman has the support and love of such a sisterhood. What if each of us had the strength, love and support of other women behind us as we walk upon this earth – as we mother our children, love our partners, care for and love our families, friends, neighbours and larger communities. What if each of us had our own cheerleading team behind us encouraging us – gently and firmly kicking us in the butt, telling us the truth with a fierceness of love and unconditional support as we follow our dreams and inspirations – bringing forth our divine gifts and contributions? What if when we came up against scary situations or accomplished huge breakthroughs we knew we were never alone? What if every woman had this kind of support behind her? What would our world look like then? I imagine something quite wonderful!
Like I said at the beginning of this email, I have felt inspired for some time to share this blessing with others – create and invite others to find, discover and create this kind of “Circle of Women” for themselves. What stops me in taking inspired action is my inability to “figure out” how to create and replicate such an experience for others. While I know how to create sacred and safe space, especially for women – I am aware that the unfolding of this Circle extends far beyond any formula or process I can design. There are many factors at play far beyond my control. This Circle has unfolded into what it is because of each woman who showed up and because of all kinds of divine influence and intervention. So I have felt unsure how to step forward.
As I shared this with my group last time we gathered, they reminded me (as they always do) to practice what I preach – to trust my inspired knowing – to show up and take the first step – to do what I do well which is hold a Circle for women – to create space for a conversation and exploration of what women are seeking, wanting, imagining. Listen and speak intently from the heart and trust the next step will reveal itself in perfect ways and timing. Ah yes, this is indeed Inspired Working and Living – what I know and forget daily. After this conversation, my whole body relaxed and I reconnected with the excitement of inspiration and agreed to take this next step.
Next Inspired Step: Invite women to an afternoon Circle to explore possibilities and next steps for forming and creating Inspired Circles for Women seeking support and sisterhood in their lives and work.
Really, how easy is that?
You are invited…to a FREE Circle to explore and talk about creating Inspired Circles for Women
Space is limited, so please email at liz@harmonybydesign.ca or call (780-467-5026) if you are interested. Please share this invitation with women in your work and life who you feel would welcome this kind of conversation and exploration.
Check out my website at www.harmonybydesign.ca.
Action Learning by Marilyn Herasymowych
Marilyn Herasymowych
I couldn’t help but see action learning bubbling up from every sentence in Liz’s e-mail to me that morning I checked my e-mail. Embedded within action learning are the principles of a direct democracy. A direct democracy is a political system in which citizens participate in the decision making personally, as opposed to relying on intermediaries or representatives. In action learning, the people who are involved in the democratic process of action learning are the people who own the problem, and will therefore own the solutions.
Dissent and majority rule are also principles of a democracy, and therefore of a direct democracy. However, in a direct democracy, dissent is critical to determining a majority position. If citizens hear the dissenting opinions, they will be much better informed before voting to determine the majority position. In action learning, the principle of dissent is resident in Reg Revans’ concept of questioning insight (Q).
When you read Liz’s story about what she is doing, you will see the following six characteristics that describe human dynamics within an action learning process. These characteristics value people and their ability to learn from their actions:
- People solve real-life problems that they experience in their day-to-day work and life.
- People learn to solve these real problems with the help and support of others.
- People reflect on their decisions and actions, in order to learn about how they think and act within the problem situation.
- People ask questions that bring to the surface deeply held assumptions, so that these assumptions can be openly discussed.
- People bring their experiences and expertise to the learning, in order to help others.
- People are accountable for their decisions and actions, and are committed to taking action on their decisions.
All of these characteristics are present in Liz’s story. See if you can find them.
Blog Entry #4 by Marilyn Herasymowych
Marilyn Herasymowych
A new science called cognitive science is exploding with new information on how humans think, and how our thinking gives rise to our behaviours. Cognitive science covers a broad spectrum of science, including brain research, thinking, neurobiology, biochemistry, and psychology. The discoveries emerging from cognitive science are challenging the foundation of what we believe as a Western culture, and what it means to be human. For example, we now know that our minds are embodied, that most of our thinking is unconscious, and that nothing we think about or experience is emotion-free. This changes the way we think about our ability to exercise free will, and whether or not we can be rational without engaging our emotions.
For me, there is no question that this is true. Especially now, with the experience of two cancer diagnoses, treatment, surgeries, and a protracted recovery. As a result of my first cancer, non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I was given the gift of observing what it might be like to die. I was in the hospital, watching myself desperately trying to get enough breath to sustain myself. My lungs were screaming in terror, my chest in shock as water drained uncontrollably off my right lung. It was Wednesday, March 25, 2009, only two days after my first chemo treatment.
I vividly recall having a chest tube inserted into my right pleural cavity to drain the water off my lung. At first, it was all so new to me, something I had never experienced. I had allowed student nurses to be present during the procedure, so there were a lot of people surrounding my bed. I was listening to what the doctor was saying, and imagining what it all looked like. It didn’t take long before I could breathe easily again, as 2.5 L of water drained quickly off my right lung. All seemed to be going well, and everyone left while I rested. Then suddenly, I was watching myself struggling to breathe. I was no longer in my body. Somehow, I was outside of my body, standing slightly beside the bed, calmly trying to figure out what I should do. I saw myself frantically pressing the call button. I saw the nurse rush into the room and clamp off my chest tube to stop the fluid from draining. I watched everything going on with no fear, no emotion, no curiosity – simply watching and thinking what I could do to help. There was my body flailing, desperate to breathe. And there was me watching as if there was no problem.
In his book, The User Illusion, Tor Nørretranders describes how John Wheeler, a famous physicist, summarized what he believed humans knew about the world. His model is called Wheeler’s U (shown below).
Wheeler's U
Wheeler believed that the way in which we observe the universe also helps to create it. For example, if we think in linear ways, we will see a linear universe; therefore, we will create a linear universe. When faced with complex non-linear problems, we will try to solve these problems in linear ways, without understanding why our solutions do not work. If we consider that we are also running in an unconscious mode most of the time, it is small wonder that we cannot seem to solve complex problems or take advantage of complex opportunities. In the situation with the chest tube, I was the observer watching my body (the participant) flailing, desperate to breathe.
But I have also been on the other side, a participant, unable to find the observer in me. When diagnosed with breast cancer less than a year after being diagnosed and treated for lymphoma, the world as I knew it imploded. I was too traumatized to observe what was going on during the surgery to remove the tumour. When the day of surgery arrived, I lost it. I couldn’t hold onto myself, and I became a crazy person, totally irrational and out of control. I went to bed the night before in tears, crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe. I woke up in tears, needing Henry to help me to get dressed. I cried in the waiting room at the diagnostic centre. I cried when I was given a needle with the radioactive tracer. I screamed when the technicians inserted the surgical wire that would guide the surgeon to the tumour. I cried when I got into the car and Henry drove me to the hospital. I cried while I waited to be admitted into the hospital. I cried while getting changed for the surgery. I cried while being wheeled into the surgical waiting area. I cried when the surgeon came to talk with me, and again when the anaesthesiologist came to discuss my situation with my leg weakness. I cried and cried and cried, and cried some more. Then, it was over and I couldn’t cry anymore.
Wheeler’s U demonstrates the degree to which we are thinking and acting from our unconscious. In their book, Philosophy in the Flesh, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson state that most cognitive operations in the human brain are largely unconscious. In fact, it is thought that the estimate now used of 95% unconscious is a serious underestimate. They call these cognitive operations the cognitive unconscious, and describe it as all of the unconscious mental operations and structures involved in language, meaning, perception, conceptual systems, and reason. This 95% below the surface of our consciousness shapes all of our conscious thought. Lakoff and Johnson call this cognitive unconscious a hidden hand that shapes the stories we tell about the experiences we have. Superimposing this 95% unconscious on Wheeler’s U, you can see that the majority of our waking moments is actually unconscious. If we are not aware of how much we do that is unconscious, we can find it very difficult to think and act in a conscious state.
Wheeler's U and the Unconscious
That day in the hospital with the chest tube, I think I touched death, or at least the impression of it. As I observed myself, I was “holding death lightly”, as if it were a new-born child lying patiently and contentedly in my arms. This is an example of melding the observer with the participant in Wheeler’s U, from an unconscious state to a more conscious one.
With the breast cancer surgery, I couldn’t lift myself from an unconscious state to a more conscious one. The trauma was too great, and I succumbed to what was happening, living the nightmare as a pure participant, totally operating from my unconscious. I was numb, unable to breathe, unable to smile, unable to talk. I got better after a few days, but I still couldn’t lift myself into a more conscious state. All I could do was lift the experience into a more conscious state. I could dissect the experience, but I was still completely gripped by the trauma. I kept thinking about how breast cancer is a killer. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept seeing my mother’s face just before she died, writhing in agony as cancer ripped out her humanity and her soul. I was losing my grip on reality, drowning in fear.
To find the eye in the storm that has become my life, and to regain some sense of control, I use all of the forms of systems thinking I have available to me. Any form of non-linear systems thinking brings the cognitive unconscious to a conscious level, and with it a sense of control and calm. Systems thinking brings us out of an observer role in a system, and into to the role of a participant-observer within the system dynamic.
Wheeler's U and Systems Thinking
According to Lakoff and Johnson, unless we gain an understanding of the cognitive unconscious, and its effect on our thinking and actions, we cannot easily create new ways of thinking and acting. The key is to bring the cognitive unconscious to a conscious level, to bring us into the role of a participant-observer within the situation in which we find ourselves. Once we are conscious of the fact that we are operating from our cognitive unconscious, we can make choices about what we want to do with this knowledge — how we think and act.
I have few choices now in terms of what I can do with my life. None of these choices, in my opinion, are good choices, and all of them are hard. The trick for me is to be able to live a life worth living, while in the grip of two incurable and advanced cancers, and the side effects of treatment. To me, this means living both the participant and the observer experience simultaneously. I don’t know if I can ever shut off the fear and anxiety that is now so much a part of my life, and deeply embedded in my unconscious. But, this cancer experience has shown me that it is possible to hold both places together, as I did when I had the chest tube inserted in my pleural cavity. The participant and observer don’t necessarily cancel each other out. Rather, they find a way to co-exist.
Note: If you’d like to know more about Marilyn’s cancer journey, check out her blog at www.cancerbrokeallmypencils.com.
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