Stop Saying That!

Sometimes we just need a moment, a moment to let our full emotionality breathe.

He was 3 years old. We couldn’t bring his scooter. It was too much to deal with in order to escort him and his sister safely around the city. He had just learned how to use the scooter, a new iteration of autonomy. He was proud. 

He put his shoes on diligently while crying…maybe hoping he could just grab it on the way out. “We can’t, I’m sorry.”

He goes down the four flights of stairs by himself still crying.

“Do you want me to carry you down?”

“Stop saying that!”

“Do you want some water?”

“Stop saying that!”

“What can I do?”

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop saying what?”

“Stop saying that!”

“I’m so sorry we can’t take your scooter!”

“Stop saying that!”

Eventually, I listened…I stopped saying that! I stopped adding my anxiety to the mix. In under 3 minutes of peace and quiet, he settled down and was back to giggling down the street with his big sister in jubilant rhapsody. 

He taught me a lot about accompaniment that day. I’m still learning. I mess it up all the time.

The Good Accompanist

My brother can write big shaky letters very slowly and words if someone tells him the letters. He can recognize some words but mostly, he cannot read. What he lacks in these cold intelligences, he makes up for in his warm intelligences of kindness, compassion and magnanimity.

He cannot help me with too much in the sense of problem solving or advice for navigating the weights of worldly responsibility. And yet he is the greatest example of full-being compassion I have ever known. 

One time, after having experienced an abuse of the patriarchy, I decided to really let it out so as to not internalize it. He came to me and asked with a depth of calm-yet-concerned alertness, “What happened?”

I told him that someone had hurt my feelings. He gave me a big bear hug as I was shaking. Next, he played me his John Denver CD and I rested as he sang it to me while making paper chains. Justin has found such great accompaniment in his music, extensive catalog collection and paper chains craft. His long-time embodied dedication to these gave him great confidence that I could find some peace there, too.

I can contain quite a lot. I am good at holding a lot of complexity and intensity without reaction. This competence began when I was born, being born into big adversity and also big accompaniment. I am fortunate to have extensive education, experience and training and at the end, whatever it is, I am always reminded of where I truly learned it all: being Justin’s little sister.

Accompaniment is the hum of trust

Accompaniment is being present with, holding steady with, or just being with. Accompaniment provides an underlying safety to make bigger acts of love, warmth and service receivable and effective. It is not doing something for someone or giving something to someone. It is not solving, advising, taking care of or helping.

A musical accompaniment supports other musical parts, provides a background sound. A hum. A tone. A note. A chord. Accompaniment is often inconspicuous and plain...at least on the surface. Someone who accompanies you exists with you, at the same time. And they try not to get in the way with their stuff. Someone who accompanies well has developed the capacity to not react to hardship nor defend against it with unsolicited advice or other anxieties. Accompaniment is a stance of non-judgement and soulful steadfastness.

You might ask if someone who accompanies is silent. Maybe. There is a sort of sound to accompaniment though, the sound of depth and fullness. That hum.

On a deeper level than silence, a person who accompanies is still. From that stillness, they are curious. They might gently note something that they notice, unattached from being correct and careful about projecting too much of what's inside them. They might repeat back what you said so that you can hear yourself or have the opportunity to slow down. They might put a hand on your shoulder, not necessarily to soothe you but to acknowledge you. They might quietly inquire about a feeling or need. They might share a metaphor, image or story that comes to them. They might ask about what it’s like for you in the moment, in your body. They might tell a joke to employ the grace of irreverence or levity. Their stance is one of respect for your experience and regard for what you know to be true for you without trying to change it. There is empathy and compassion but they don’t posture to know what it’s like to be you.

In what way might you practice and bring the skill of soulful accompaniment to your work, relationships or self?

In Family Constellations, the facilitator and the participants accompany through empathetic listening, compassion, curiosity, and deep regard for one another. This happens with words, movements, somatic sensing, the breath and stillness. When we trust the essential dignity of someone else’s experience in their system, they can find their own most natural and sustainable movements towards life and love.