I have a brilliant partner called Olly, the love of my life.
And sometimes, loveable as he actually is, I want him to be different.
Less grumpy. Happier.
My intentions seem pure when I jump in and try to help. But when I see him as needing to change, it doesn’t feel good, and it really doesn’t helpful.
I’ve noticed it, and so has Olly.
The other day, he said something profound:
“Sometimes you’re just with me in whatever state I’m in. Listening. Witnessing. I feel seen by your heart.”
I thought back on the times when this happens naturally.
I see Olly having whatever experience he’s having, and he’s beautiful. There’s nothing wrong and nothing missing. Even in the moments when he’s convinced that isn’t true.
When I’m witnessing him like that, there’s nothing to do. The thought that something needs to change isn’t even on my mind. Everything is just okay.
And somehow, without trying, Olly feels more loved than when I was “trying” to help. Ironically, seeing him without the need to be helped is what’s genuinely helpful.
It reminds me of the story of Anthony de Mello, the Jesuit priest and spiritual teacher:
“I was neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day someone said to me, Don’t change. I love you just as you are. Those words were music to my ears: Don’t change, Don’t change. Don’t change. . . I love you as you are. I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly I changed!”
That’s witnessing.
That’s what Olly was pointing to.
I started to see how often I do the opposite. Not just Olly, but the weather, or the numbers in my bank account, or my body.
Needing things to change so that I can feel better hurts.
But when I feel better, the world changes.
It’s an inside game, this game of changing the world. This game of helping others. In allowing and even loving things as they are, their inherent beauty is revealed.
I can’t pretend to understand this. Nor can I explain it logically.
But I have a real, visceral experience of it every day.
I can’t force myself to show up as a witness to life, but I notice…
The moment the thought, “This needs to change,” falls away, I’m there.
And then I change.
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