Regarding Mutuality
By Bill Trout

Our beloved Bill has passed away on on November 23, 2008.  We honor his contributions to our work.  

For some time, I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to the subject of Mutuality. It’s been at least a year—November 2004—after a conversation with Barbara Mueller.

I’ve been trying to figure out what makes it work, when it does, and what is missing when it doesn’t. It’s no small thing. It’s important enough to be included in this school’s full name, Waking Down in Mutuality, and of all the things that WDM practitioners “do” it is the one which requires continual work, both before and after the Second Birth.

I am probably one of the most introverted people in this work, so I find the practice of Mutuality extremely challenging. But I don’t think I’m the only one. I have noticed that as often as not, we are not terribly “mutual.” Our actions and the results we expect from Mutuality don’t always seem to add up to what we might anticipate. Feelings are expressed, apologies made, coconuts fall. But nothing substantial seems to happen. Why is that?

The potential gains from the practice of Mutuality are enormous.

We’re all familiar with Saniel’s “book” definition: fully manifesting and expressing our own Being (or divine) nature while simultaneously co-operating with others who are attempting the same thing. It does, as Saniel points out, level the playing field, at least in theory. As a way of working out the stickier, more troublesome aspects of interpersonal relationships (read, disagreements) it is unmatched. It is the one thing which distinguishes WDM from other schools of growth and consciousness.

Beyond that, Mutuality provides valuable insights in our own process of growth which are available in no other way. Not only does it give us a glimpse into the reality of the other person or person with whom we are interacting, it offers the chance for us to see ourselves in that person. We see that in many ways, both large and small, we are not so terribly different from the other. Moreover, it has the potential to grant us that rarest of gifts—the chance to see ourselves the way in which the other sees us. In all these cases, there is a certain “flow,” a dynamic interpersonal exchange which makes the practice effective. If there is no flow, no sense of the other, then the effort is wasted. Any exchange becomes a collection of carefully chosen vocabulary words which sound soothing, but signify nothing.

Part of the problem, it seems to me, is the tenet—even the WDM imperative—that is essential for each practitioner to speak his or her own truth. In extreme cases, this devolves to every nuance of a feeling, every judgment, every perception and projection real or imagined being voiced in such detail as to make one’s ears bleed. In the name of Mutuality, we are compelled to deliver this to anyone and everyone. And in the name of Mutuality, they are compelled to sit or stand respectfully and take it. I am compelled to ask: is this trip really necessary?

You might say that I’m exaggerating. A bit, but not much. The point is still valid. Where the emphasis remains focused on one’s “truth,” that flow stops. Anytime that we are more interested in making ourselves, our position, our point of view more important than that of the other, there is no and can be no Mutuality.

All of us have experienced feeling the need to express ourselves, such that if we don’t it seems as if our teeth will explode out of our mouths. All of us have experienced the liberation and freedom which such an expression can and does bring. I suggest, however, that when this expression becomes paramount all possibilities for growth—of either party—come to a dead stop. You are the person who should be minding the store, not your all-important “truth.”

So, what is it that makes Mutuality really work? What is it that keeps the flow between people and can help both parties in their individual and collective growth? In a word, compassion.

The subject of compassion, and what constitutes true compassion, is an enormous one. It’s well beyond the scope of anything I could or would say here. Each of us, in our own time and in our own way, must discover for him/herself exactly what compassion means. Because this is something that I have only recently begun to explore in earnest, I don’t want to say too much at this stage of the game. Even so, it appears to me that there are one or two pointers that one can use as touchstones in this process, or places where it might be fruitful to begin such a process of exploration for us all.

The root of our word compassion comes from the Latin meaning “to suffer with, or suffer together.” Clearly, it is an activity in which another is involved. Sympathy and empathy may be part of compassion as we experience it, but it is not limited to those emotions. It is definitely not a sloppy syrupy sentimentality. Compassion participates (as Prof. Edward Conze has written) in the suffering of others. We experience compassion because, in part, we wish happiness for ourselves and wish the same for others and want to increase that happiness for them. In the same way, we wish to avoid suffering so we try to find ways to decrease or eliminate the sufferings of others. One experiences both the joy and the unhappiness of others. You get a sense of their own experience. You “suffer together.”

This is Mutuality at its highest expression. If we truly are going to live out the “book definition,” then the expression of our Being (our divine nature) is just one part of the equation. Our “cooperation” with others implies that we help them express their divine Being as well. We provide a means for that expression and, feeling what gets in the way both of their expression and the cooperation between self and other, do what we are able to do to decrease those things which are getting in the way. This means not just issues on their side of the fence (so to speak). It means being alert to issues of our own that are blinding or impeding us as well. We get out of our own way.

All of us have had the experience in this work of listening to the dharma, whether that was from a teacher, an audiotape or CD, or simply reading a book. This is a listening that involves more than just your ears. It involved a whole being listening, what Jean Klein called “a whole Being welcoming.” It is this same kind of listening and attention that need to be brought into the practice of Mutuality. In a very real sense when you listen to the other, you are listening to the dharma—theirs. And in as much as people share many of the same concerns, problems, and experiences, it is your dharma as well. This kind of listening creates an openness, a space in which anything is possible. You may hear things you didn’t expect, see things you didn’t anticipate seeing. This openness is the ground from which true compassion (and wisdom) arises. This in turn makes real Mutuality possible, because we not only share the experience of the other, to the extent that’s possible, we also see the best way to help them end whatever suffering they are experiencing (or to increase their happiness). The flow created also allows for the deepening of awareness/Awakening of both parties. This process further deepens the understanding and practice of compassion, and the cycle repeats itself.

So true compassion, and by extension true Mutuality, arise from a spaciousness, a clarity not just of perceptions, but of our minds as well. The Third Zen Patriarch advises us to drop our judgments and opinions. Just so. There can be no flow, no exchange, no openness if we have already decided what’s wrong, what needs to be fixed, how we’re going to fix it (if we are) and what we’re going to say. The practice of Mutuality comes to a halt.

There are of course, a number of traps. One of these is what Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche called “idiot compassion.” This is, more often than not, something that we do to when we’re in avoidance, co-dependent, or even just lazy. And it does more harm than good, not just to the object of our “compassion,” but to us as well. My son sometimes thinks that if I really loved him, I’d give him what he wants whenever he wants it (right now, that’s a Wii game). His suffering and self-pity are exquisite. I could relieve that suffering by doing what he wants. But is that compassion? Is that wise? Or am I hoping only to keep him quiet until the next “need” pops up? It wouldn’t help him any, and it certainly wouldn’t do anything to help my process either.

I’d like to bring up one other point. Recently I read the idea that the single teacher/multiple students paradigm may be outmoded. The article postulated that the way of the future might be for multiple teachers teaching multiple students. I’ve said before that when you show up in relation to others with all of your parts present and accountable, then a teaching space is created and you are a teacher, whether you ever use words like “hypermasculine” or “core wound.” Being fully present with the other is another way to describe this openness, the spacious ground from which compassion and Mutuality can arise. If a group of people (say a WDM group) are able to each bring that openness to the group as a whole, then a large group teaching space is created. The group, through Mutuality, is able to act in the capacity of teacher for the individual who brings their issue(s) to the meeting. Any teacher or teachers present can help to guide the flow, but the main responsibility for the teaching would rest with the group. An interesting concept, and one worth considering for any WDM group whether that group is a small group on retreat or a large one at a formal sitting.

That’s it. I’d like to end this with an observation made by Lama Surya Das. It’s about the Buddhist practice of bodhicitta, but it applies equally well to the practice and expression of Mutuality. “If it looks like wisdom, but is unkind rather than loving, it’s not wisdom. If it feels like love, but it’s not wise, it’s not love.”

Cheers, bill