The Patterns of Perception

And How They Run Our Conversations

Every month, we pull a question from our BreakBread World Conversation Card Deck and offer a reflection. This month we pulled the “pattern” card.

“Understanding of life begins with the understanding of patterns.” ~ Fritjof Capra

What personal or collective patterns have been emerging in your life? What is the story and meaning behind these patterns?

We have a joke in our house, that when something is lost i’m the “good” looker and Martha is the “terrible” looker. She sees things with different eyes than i do. Broadly speaking, when i walk into a room i notice more granularly how the space is filled whereas she seems to notice how the space is arranged. She will want a table moved slightly because the angle is off or insist that a picture on the wall should be moved up three quarters of an inch whereas it looks fine to me. I’m unable to recognize the disharmony she’s responding to but admittedly, when she’s done with all her chiropractic spatial tweaking, something does indeed feel qualitatively different and more harmonious.

I, on the other hand, tend to react to clutter, in particular clutter sprawl. There’s probably some arcane branch of physics like Clutter Attractor Theory or the Thermodynamic Law of Stuff that explains how within an hour random glove left on the kitchen table attracts a friendly soup spoon and by the end of the day there’s loitering gang that includes a toothpaste cap, some junk mail, a grocery receipt and a nail clipper. Clutter sprawl is when these tiny galaxies of sundry items begin to appear throughout the house. I tend to notice them before Martha does and my tolerance for them tends to be lower than hers. I’ve learned that rather than expending domestic capital insisting they be cleaned up right away, i consolidate them into piles outposted around the house. This placates my anxiety and eventually they reach critical mass where they’re noticed and disassembled.

We live in a cultural context that purports one “objective reality” but it’s not that simple.

Martha and i walk into the same room but see two different rooms. We could argue about whose version of the room is the real one but understand they are both real. So Martha rolls her eyes when i’m too obtuse to see that the chair askew in the corner is being obnoxiously obstinate while i add a wayward sock to the growing pile on the kitchen table and move on. Our individual understanding of reality and engagement with it is dependent upon our perception of it. And while we think we’re perceiving what’s objectively there, what we’re actually perceiving is reality that’s shaped and filtered by the patterns we recognize.

The Fritjof Capra quote speaks of the understanding of life through the understanding of patterns. He’s an author, physicist, systems theorist and deep ecologist known for books that include The Tao of Physics and The Systems View of Life. In his work, he talks about how complex nonlinear networks are the underlying pattern of all living things.

We take a systems-approach to conversation in our workshops.

We posit that every conversation is an ecosystem or web of relationships interwoven in time and space. The language of conversation is a language of patterns – spoken, gestural, spatial, contextual, and cultural. Recognizing patterns help us navigate reality and make sense of it.

Conversations present a rich microcosm of the world we inhabit as individuals and can be a mini-laboratory for growth, both personally and communally. Next time you are in a group, pay attention. What patterns are present or are emerging? Often our body and hearts are more exquisitely attuned to patterns below the surface – far more finely tuned than the mind. The mind tends to be more rational and linear and recognizes patterns that are more formulaic - they can be seen and measured. Whereas the patterns recognized by the heart and body are more nonlinear – more like shapes, or webs of viscera that we feel into. This is like when you have a gut feeling about something or someone that you can’t explain rationally yet the recognition is palpable. It’s a vocabulary for which we don’t always have words. Often we discount, ignore, or dismiss these wordless states but our ability to abide and pay attention opens us to a richness of experience and relationality. If we only look for and legitimize patterns that are recognized on the rational level we end up stuck with a very limited view of reality.

I’m reminded of a conversation i had many years ago with my healer, teacher and friend, Jason Shulman. It was a healing session in which i talked about struggling with conversations where i would often feel stuck. I didn’t know what to say and felt i had nothing to contribute. Jason asked “well, are you listening?” to which i answered “yes.” He pointed out that he recognized in me a very deep listener and that no true conversation can be had without the listener. Jason didn’t leave it at that. He dug deeper, inquiring as to what i meant when i said “i have nothing to say” and what that felt like. I talked about the discomfort, the feeling of inadequacy, of being stuck. He moved to suggesting how about asking a question? I responded by saying i don’t know what to ask. He responded, “for someone who listens very deeply, what happens when you feel curious or wonder about something?” We dug deeper. I realized that in my family there was something i picked up – a pattern of not asking too many questions. Nobody ever actually told me that asking questions was wrong but there was something about not being too nosy and minding my own business that was foundational in my New England upbringing. Then there were the times when, as a child, i would ask questions that may have caused discomfort or a bit too prying, as children sometimes do. I was very attuned to people’s reactions, including that which remained unsaid, and was sensitive to feeling their discomfort and to me feeling like i did something wrong. For example, there was a time when i was very engaged and inquisitive in catechism (i was raised Catholic), when i asked: Why don’t we include Mary when we make the sign of the cross, afterall, isn’t she the mother of god? <ouch!> I was met with a scowl and accused of “trying to make trouble”.

At this point in my session, the brain kicks in and says “Of course! I was taught that asking questions was somehow verboten and now it all makes sense. Just ask more questions.” But it’s not that simple. The path to that revelation in that healing session was not rational (except in hindsight) and neither was moving forward, for the pattern and the feelings were deeply ingrained. Jason helped me see and begin to accept that sometimes (maybe most times) asking questions will feel deeply uncomfortable for me and that i would have to learn to play with it.

This is an example of me recognizing and interpreting collective patterns that were present for me while growing up. We have to first recognize them and then make meaning of them. I interpreted the patterns to mean: don’t ask questions! Another child may not have picked up on them or may have found delight in asking questions capable of making nuns squirm.

Wherever these patterns emerge from, slowing down and tuning in at the level of the body and heart are especially key to transforming challenging situations and conversations.

I was in a healing session with a client and we were discussing some particularly challenging issues having to do with work. He made an offhanded comment that sparked my curiosity. Following this feeling, i asked some questions that seemingly had nothing to do with the issue at hand but they felt resonant and like they wanted to be asked. At first what seemed like a totally irrelevant line of questioning led to a discussion about an issue present in his relationship with his wife and children which uncovered an emergent pattern that was almost an exact mirror illuminating more clearly the work issue. The issue was actually much bigger than the original isolated work incident and we had opened the way for seeing the issue with new depth, understanding and possibility. At the level of conversation, with practice, you can spot (or feel) these patterns and challenge yourself to take a small step toward something different.

The next time you’re in a conversation, take a breath and pause for a second to check in with yourself. It might feel warm, welcoming and comfortable, or maybe the conversation feels strained. You look and someone averts their eyes. You feel a churning in the pit of your stomach. Pay attention. Get curious. What’s the default story we go to? Aha! Perhaps that’s a pattern! What could this mean? Break the pattern. Ask a question. Listen. Shift your body. Change perspective. How does it change the conversation? Play.