Vision, as I use the word here, is not merely a plan for the future, it also is a renewed sense of purpose in our day-to-day work. It entails stopping, reflecting, imagining, and then acting—stepping anew into the creative flow. It requires building, over time, a clearer and more immediate awareness of the activities, people, and environments we are most likely to find rewarding. Vision allows us to tap into what is already moving within us at a deeper level, already asking for fuller expression. With vision, we are better able to recognize what resources, behavior changes, and relationships we will need in order to reconnect with what is most important to us.
When we have a clear vision, we feel more connected to the world, more alive. The gap between our thought and action, our internal world and external world, vanishes, and we more fully occupy our “self.” Our everyday choices feed off our vision the way a lantern flame feeds off kerosene.
Just as important as vision is re-vision, because the process of seeing anew happens time and again throughout our lives. Sometimes re-vision leads to a relatively minor decision, as when we plan carefully for an important event or change the priorities of certain tasks. At other times, re-vision leads us to major change, as when we marry or pursue a radically new career path. There are times of great epiphanies, when our awareness opens and we gain insight into what big things we want and which big things we must do. And then there are times when a slight shift makes a dramatic difference in how we feel about something smaller—the arc of our workday or our time with our children.
Missed Opportunities: Staying Stuck
The shock of the experiencing crisis and impasse—the heralds of the need for a new vision—can overwhelm us. The old issues and the memories they evoke can seem so painful that we suppress them or disassociate from them before they even become conscious. We may choose, with or without full awareness, to retreat or to evade. “Just let me get through this so I can get back to what I was doing,” we might tell ourselves, or “I know this needs my attention, but I just can’t face it right now.” This response is not a sign of moral weakness—sometimes what life presents is just too much. And staying stuck may seem like the most natural way to move forward because it allows us to hew the familiar, to remain “who we are”— or who we think we must be. But while defensive evasion may get us past the immediate circumstances of the crisis, it simply postpones resolving the issue underlying the crisis, and going through change. There is no integration of the crisis experience, as demonstrated in figure I-1.
FIGURE I-1
Staying stuck
The Cycle of Impasse
If we are to make real change, there is a predictable “cycle of impasse” we all must go through and a pattern to the way we can move toward clarity and a renewed sense of vision. The impasse cycle—in which we move from feeling deeply stuck to gradually imagining a new place in life and taking the leap to get there—has six predictable phases.
In the first phase the crisis develops. Something in the way in which we order life and move through it is no longer working. Crisis may arrive with a painful event: a serious illness, the death of a loved one, or a financial setback. It may arrive in the subtle symptoms of unrest, anxiety, or boredom. Our usual sense of certainty disappears. We begin to see that something is missing. We long for change.
The crisis deepens in the second phase. Our attempts to avoid, rationalize, and evade have not worked, and things are getting worse. Even more difficult, this crisis is starting to feel familiar. It brings difficult feelings from the past. “I thought I was done with all of that,” we say; but our feelings of resentment or inadequacy or shame continue. We stop trying to rationalize or evade the reality of the crisis and acknowledge that we cannot continue business as usual. Our old way of doing things, our comfortable routines, are no longer working— and we know it. The crisis has shown that our familiar “model” for the way life works is inadequate.
In phase three that old model completely breaks up and we hit bottom, drop our defenses, and open up. It is impossible to deny that our wheels are deep in the mud, so we get out of the car, stand there, and begin to listen to the sounds of the night around us. What can we possibly do to get unstuck?
This coming to a compete halt, this admission that we are beyond our resources, this opening up, is the very condition that makes phase four possible. Now we can receive not only new information, but also a new type of information that comes not in the form of fantasy, but of real imagination. We begin to receive coded images of what is missing in our lives, we notice signs pointing to what needs to happen next. The work to be done at this phase is the work of disciplined imagination, which allows our understanding to shift. We find ourselves using a mode of thinking that is less linear and more metaphorical. We recognize new relationships between forces and ideas that previously seemed in opposition. Our perspective becomes less certain and dogmatic, more pliable and full of possibilities. We begin to catch sight of something new on the horizon.
As we begin to emerge from the crisis, we take stock of the experience itself and how it has affected us. We realize that the pain of the impasse experience has taught us, in an immediate way, what counts and what doesn’t. We learn something vital about what we need and want, and about what we are willing to give up to get these things. We may be shaken, but at the same time our feet seem a little more firmly planted in the earth. Phase five marks an opportunity for a deeper reflection on what our choices have shown us about who we are. And with each journey through the impasse cycle, our mental model of the world and our place in it shifts, and we acquire a surer appreciation of our unique identity. We gain a clearer sense of what works for us and what doesn’t. And we develop better instincts— and greater confidence—about how to find the right path, about how to grow and contribute to the lives around us. We can more easily identify the types of work, the people, and the environments that will fulfill us the most.
But our lives do not change without action. The impasse crisis has its resolution in a decision to make specific choices that change our day-to-day reality. The final, sixth phase of the impasse cycle may be a decision to confront a coworker, to begin work on a book, to go to graduate school, to end a relationship, or to move to the country. The decision might also be as simple as a change in a daily schedule or a commitment to balancing bank accounts monthly.
Knowing what the action needs to be, and actually performing it, is what seals the cycle of learning and change and allows us to move forward.
If we move through each of the six phases with all of the honesty and energy we can muster, we have an opportunity to break through the limitations we had unconsciously placed on ourselves and exceed previous notions of what we might do with what we have been given. Impasses will come again—crisis is the crucible for the work of making a larger self—but the next time we can meet the crisis with all that we gained from previous work. The next cycle will take place at a higher level of integration, as our life experience widens and we live with a self that is more tolerant, less self-critical, and more ready to accept aspects of our own personhood that had been either unrecognized or exiled. Figure I-2 provides a visual overview of the process.
The body of this book will guide you through the entire process, with these distinct phases:
The arrival of the crisis and impasse (chapter 1)
Its deepening and the attendant reemergence of unresolved issues (chapter 2)
The dropping of old assumptions and the opening up to new information (chapter 3)
The shift to a new way of understanding our situation (chapter 4)
The greater