Connection Archives - Lise Porter

When We Talk of Love…

When we fall in or or what we initially think is love, it’s often our own love being mirrored back to us via another person. For those of us not strongly in touch with our essence and sense of worth, it can be as if this outside force is bringing us to life. (Of course this, coupled with all the dopamine and oxytocin that get activated in early romance further this heightened sensation of pleasure coming from an external source). It is also a real phenomenon that connection with others, when it is good, increases happiness. That is not a mirage. We are social creatures longing for a balance of union and autonomy. It’s nourishing to feel support, validation, love and respect from someone else and it often lighten’s one’s load to be interdependent, sharing activities and responsibilities.

When that outside source withdraws, as it so often does in contemporary relationships through divorce, break ups, and/or an unwillingness to be involved beyond the initial thrill of hooking up, two people are left to feel their independent essence again without the presence of the other. Any kind of separation constitutes an initial reconfiguration of self- be it a sigh of relief or a cry of loneliness and loss, or both.

What is interesting to note though is that in a healthy person, that sense of being vibrant and beautiful remains. It doesn’t withdraw just because the person mirroring it back stops loving or engaging with you. Unfortunately, without anyone to give your essence to in relationship, you might tuck it into yourself a little protectively, holding it close to your skin. But it is still there. Do not let it die. Or extinguish it. It’s your gift to the world.

And do not apologize for sharing and sending it out to someone previously. It is beautiful and natural to give and receive love. And sometimes, it’s a rare opportunity, but it is why we are here. Because of wounding over the course of our lives though, we might feel inhibited and defensive. Vulnerability takes courage. It is also often shunned as needy. Yet the irony is that people don’t tend to be needy when their basic needs are met.

It is okay to be human and to have needs. Projecting our needs onto an unwilling party is an intrusion but to have needs is part of being alive and living with an open heart.

I once heard that people are most attractive when fiercely independent. And while that might be true, for a strong confident individual reflects a degree of psychological autonomy and maturity, independence can also be a decoy for indifference and not caring. It can be a cover for rigidity and cowardice as well. Or not knowing how to maintain healthy boundaries.

Love of self and love of other can create polarities at times. It is not always an easy tension to maintain. But it doesn’t have to be rocket science either. Instead it is an art form of together/apart and apart/together that evolves over time and with care.

Everyone Is Talking About It

by Lise Porter

In today’s world of TikTok Therapy, much is being said about attachment theory. It’s being used to explain any and every relationship issue from rejection to lack of commitment to feelings of suffocation. “Avoidants shouldn’t pair with Anxious-Attachments, blah, blah, blah,” the talking experts say. Yet little is being said how to address the extremely complex issue of attachment that every human on this planet struggles with in some way, shape or form. Put frankly, it’s an existential dilemma.

Attachment theory is a theory of psychology founded by John Bowlby that originally addressed relational patterns between infants, children and their care-givers. The main idea is that a child needs to have a secure attachment with at least one adult for normal, healthy development. The attachment styles discussed in child development are now being applied to theories of romantic attachment. In essence, it’s a way to explain the emotional bonds people have with one another. These categories are called anxious, avoidant, disorganized and secure. While nice to have this kind of spelled out, it doesn’t really address how we heal or navigate our day-to-day interactions with one another.

Not only that, circumstances change over time that can impact our current relational patterns. For instance, even if we had a secure attachment in childhood, we can certainly still be anxious if in a bad relational situation. Conversely, maybe we had insecure attachment in childhood but are blessed with a secure attachment now and in this situation, don’t really struggle.

What I find more interesting is the very human longing to return to the blissful state of fusion we had with our caregivers initially, if some kind of bonding occurred. That state of peering into our mother or father’s eyes while sucking on a breast or bottle of milk and completely melting into the CareGiver felt like nirvana. I am one with you, you are one with me, the infant thinks. I am whole, safe, and this feels pretty damn wonderful. The child does not yet experience itself as a fully, separate self and is highly insecure when left alone or in distress because she/he/they are so vulnerable. So when we have experiences in adulthood that create this sense of fusion – ecstasy in sex, the limerence of falling in love, being intoxicated on a substance, being in a flow state while creating, etc. we get a little taste of that. And that can feel very powerful and addictive. It can also be a little discombobulating when we can’t sustain these states and have to return to drab everyday life. Or, we fear being engulfed in this oneness and need a little separation to feel our ego state again. I don’t want to lose myself, we think going into a self-protective mode. You’re going to suck me in and my needs won’t matter.

In a way, this phenomenon is like the fall from Eden. We once felt this profound unitive state in the spiritual domain and now have to deal with the very real struggle of being human and/or separate from the CareGiver. We are drawn over and over again to that divine state of oneness, yet strive to be separate. To have agency, free will, choice, autonomy and individuality. Self/other/God. Me/you/world/God. And yet on some level, we all came from the same Star. We all have a spark of the Divine within us.

And so it is. Everyone is talking about it…

The Spiritual Dilemma of Attachment

by Lise Porter

It’s common in spiritual communities for singles to be told that they can take comfort in their relationship to God. And while a lovely idea, this does not negate the very real need for human companionship. After all, God doesn’t keep us warm in bed at night. People need tactile contact and support from other humans and having coffee periodically with a friend is not the same level of intimacy as making love with someone and spending your life with that individual. So what is this neurobiological phenomenon in attachment?

Our very biology wires us for connection to ensure our survival. The minute we are born, our mothers’ bodies flood with chemicals to ensure they care for us. Oxytocin increases significantly which promotes maternal feelings and newborn attachment, in addition to reducing stress. And our attachment needs aren’t restricted to our early years. Because humans had a better chance of survival when grouped together, our neurological make up supports that we feel more pleasure and security when in relationships. When isolated, we feel less secure and more physically threatened.

How then do people cope when more isolated? This is a fundamental dilemma for people in current society. More and more people are not marrying, the divorce rate is high, and many people are not close to their families of origin. And the elderly population is typically left in isolation. Correlating to these trends, research indicates that loneliness is an epidemic in America (and was even before the pandemic).

Thankfully, it is possible to feel connected on a neurobiological level even when living alone. But it requires active efforts at connection and a redefinition of connection. Attachment can be forged in a variety of ways: through one’s breath, in communion with nature and the elements, in interactions with animals, and in meaningful friendships and community with humans. (And yes, people can go out and hook up sexually, feeling attached via all those wonderful hormones, but if the emotional connection isn’t there or the situation is abusive or neglectful, individuals might end up feeling even more alone and isolated. Because at the end of the day, we want to feel as if we consistently matter and are a part of something).

Yet even more significant, we can feel this neurological attachment with ourselves, if we are in a highly integrated state between body, mind and spirit. This not only enhances our individual well-being, it increases our abilities to connect with others when in relationship. In fact, the word “yoga” means “to unite”, which is funny because yoga is a physical practice done in quiet by oneself. There is no talking. Yet yoga describes the union of individual consciousness with universal consciousness which in essence defines attachment. Thus, it is this fusion of both the physical and the spiritual that deepens our sense of interconnectedness with others and the world around us that is so vital to our well-being and survival.

We do indeed have God. But we need to think about our neurobiology too because we are spiritual beings having a very real human experience. As a friend of mine says, “We put on our earth suits and try to learn something.” And we do that by bumping up against the world around us and experiencing its pleasures and pains.

Love Is Not Cancelled

by Lise Porter

If going through a break up, divorce, or the death of a partner, questions abound. “Where does love go?” we might ponder, and “Was it even real?” we could ask while tossing and turning throughout the night. Gone are the frequent calls, texts, orgasms, kisses, and “hey you”s, along with the shared meals and interest in each other’s lives.

So where does love go when it’s finished and/or changing form? And why is this never really talked about?

All of us have seen the cartoons of cupid pulling back his bow and aiming it at a target. In an ideal situation, cupid sends two arrows at two individuals who become objects of affection for each other. But for how long do they stay in tandem? And why is the energy going outward when it’s really our own love emanating from us that creates the initial connection?

Let’s think about this for a minute. What would happen if we could give and receive love without our life force emptying out onto someone else? Could we stay grounded as a vessel of our own love that bumps up against someone else’s? Is it that even possible or does love require us to step aside from own self centered experience in order to care for someone else? Where is the balance?

Despite all the love songs, poetry, and dramas created over centuries of artistic expression, we tend to negate the deep negotiations of self and other when in love. The Me. You. And We. (Although I have to say the current Apple+ tv series, “Shrinking” does a nice job exploring the grief of a recent widow).

Ideally, love should lead us back to our core, giving us more of ourselves; not less. It should build us up rather than chip the self away. Even in loss, there should be gain.

So it might be helpful to consider that we all come from a Source that is love. If two human beings’ lives happen to collide, that is a beautiful thing. But that collision does not suck away our essence when the connection ends in this physical dimension. The love that is each and every one of us still prevails. As does the imprint of our connections with others.

Love is not cancelled. And neither are you.

Angels in Fur Coats

by Lise Porter

“They’re so much work,” a friend of mine said recently. “I can’t be tied down like that,” he continued. “I need my freedom.” He was referring to pets as he knows I’m obsessed with mine.

I get it. I’ve had periods in my life when I couldn’t be tied down either.

“But it’s really not,” I replied. “Sure, you have to feed them and care for them and take them to the vet when they are sick. But beyond that, animals tend to take care of their humans vs. the other way around.”

Having lovingly raised two humans, my friend has a solid track record in that arena. So I continued to explain. “With kids, you are there solely for their growth and well being. It’s not about you,” I said. “You don’t use your kids to fulfill your unmet needs. But with animals, they seem to intuitively know how to heal us. It’s a different kind of thing.”

While it’s true animals can be just as wounded as humans if they’ve experienced abuse and neglect, their natural state is so loving, raising animals becomes an experience of relational attunement many of us did not receive in our own childhoods. I think that is why so many people care deeply for their animals. The unconditional love animals exude often is a new experience, allowing us to heal rifts in attachment bonds from childhood.

While human relationships are perhaps more rewarding, complex and sophisticated, they are far more risky. Animals don’t hurt us in the ways humans can. They don’t lie, cheat, betray, or steal (well, maybe a little bite of our food). And they don’t attack us, unless they feel threatened. They simply want to be loved.

When a human is an infant, ideally the parent attunes to the child by noticing her needs, holding her, and mirroring her facial expressions. Hours are spent simply gazing at the child in a loving, attuned manner allowing the child to feel safe and seen. Over time, as the child grows and becomes aware of being a separate self, she still tracks where her care giver is and how much attention is coming in her direction. But not all of us receive this type of attunement in the early and developing years.

Each morning and evening, my cat Marcus comes to me with his toy in his mouth wanting me to toss it to him. Or he will meow and want to be held. In this process, I am the care giver, attuning to him and his need for contact, stimulation and attention. But the rest of the time, Marcus and Mena are more attuning to me. Watching me as I work, sitting on my lap when I read, snuggling up to me when I sleep. And if I am crying for some reason, one of them immediately comes and checks on me. So the question is, who really is healing who?

In being so unashamed about their desires for affection and contact, animals help remind us that connection is part of being alive. Humans want love and contact too, yet we are often conditioned to view this as needy and shameful once we’ve grown beyond a certain age. By modeling their sense of connection and presence, they help us restore a sense of wholeness with the world around us. I think of them as angels in fur coats.

The Benefits of Boredom

by Lise Porter

On May 12, 2002, Newsweek published an essay by Anna Quindlen called, “Doing Nothing Is Something.” It was a beautiful piece of writing on the lazy rhythms of summer that she recalled with nostalgia from her own childhood. In it, she bemoaned the fast pace of modern life and the contrast between what she experienced in her youth compared to the experiences of over-scheduled teens in middle-class society. The article has even more relevance now given the advent of social media and smart phones that keep us routinely engaged. Instead of contemplating our navels on someone’s back porch while swatting at a few mosquitoes and talking to the neighbors.

“I mourn hanging out in the backyard. I mourn playing Wiffle ball in the street without a sponsor and matching shirts. I mourn drawing in the dirt with a stick,” she writes. (I’ve included the link to the original article here).

As a single woman without children, I spend many weekends and evenings alone. And at times, I’m quite bored. This reality has been particularly on my mind as the days grow longer and the warm weather drives everyone outside to engage in activities. Yet no matter how much I sometimes judge myself for having these stretches of quiet time, I realize how vital boredom truly is whether you’re in a partnership, family, or alone. Having time to do nothing and to be in solitude is a rich experience that our society has little tolerance for. This intolerance only grows. It’s viewed as non-productive, anti-social, and unhealthy. Yet is it any healthier to constantly engage, particularly if participating in meaningless activity or superficial relationships? And how does one cultivate any sense of purpose or creativity, if there is never any time to simply dream and think?

So if you find yourself feeling a little restless or bored at some point this summer, consider it a gift. It’s a great opportunity to embrace simply being. Without having to prove anything or exert anything. And that is a rarity in our current day.

Strategy

by Lise Porter

“Calm down!” my tennis coach chastised me this morning. “You’re moving all over the place. Slow down and breathe when you hit the ball.”

I sighed. How many times in my life have I been told to slow down and breathe?

“Your instincts are great,” he continued in reassurance, “because you’re so athletic. But you’re a spaz case. Tennis is about strategy and control. I want you to harness that energy. Trust the mechanics.”

He tossed me another ball and I relaxed my grip. Watching the ball come to me, I exhaled as I made contact, whacking it solid in the strike zone with remarkable ease and power. “See?” my coach said like a proud parent to his child. “I get you because you’re just like me. I had to learn how to leverage my energy.”

Just like him? The first day I took his clinic he talked and moved through drills so fast my head was spinning in an effort to keep track. He had so much energy! But he’s also a GREAT tennis teacher. Because he slows down when it matters. When you need something explained. And when you need to do things right.

His summation of me is correct. I’m not a calm person. People think I am because I meditate and have a soft gentle voice. Yet there is a frenetic intensity to my being that often needs to be tamed like a wild horse.

Even a powerful serve does not need to be muscled. It’s knowing where you want the ball to go and how to execute.

So every week I line up at the base line with my peers, as we listen to our guru teach us that less is more.

Trust YOUR Process

by Lise Porter

When my mother died by suicide in July 2008, two well-meaning loved ones made comments a month later. One pondered whether the fact that I lived alone intensified my grief. Perhaps if I had roommates, I might not be so upset. The other said that if I had a child, I wouldn’t be so self-absorbed. I would have to care for another person instead of feeling sorry for myself. The latter statement was particularly painful because I desperately wanted to be a mother, yet I was thirty-nine and single. I wondered if she wanted me to get myself knocked up by a stranger, so I could circumvent grieving.

There was also the ex-boyfriend who emailed me, “Onward and upward!” when I notified him of the suicide and shared that my mom had always been fond of him. But this is not a blog post to roast people for the odd things they say. It’s simply a cautionary tale to be discerning and protective of what you personally need when you’re most vulnerable and raw. In my case, I wasn’t just grieving my mom’s death. I was grieving the mom I never truly had. And it had only been one month.

When we’re in the heart of deep pain, not every one understands or can tolerate it. Because everyone has their own issues and opinions. For these reasons we must discern who is equipped to witness our experience and hold it with compassion while also acknowledging that people are not always available or able. In these situations, we must ultimately hold space for ourselves.

Grief entails a type of intra-psychic death. We feel like parts of ourselves are dying and life as we knew it has irrevocably changed. In the process, other relationships often fall like dominoes compounding the sense of loss. If you find yourself in this situation, see if you can embrace it as a time for personal transformation. Allow yourself to trust your process. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s non-linear. And even if it doesn’t follow a set of prescribed rules or steps.

Nothing in life ever does.

How Amplifying Feelings Can Lead to Breakthroughs

by Lise Porter

There is a tenet in acting that everything is usable. What this means is that actors use all feelings that arise when performing. Anything and everything can be integrated into the performance. For instance, if a character is supposed to feel sad yet for some reason the actor giggles, that is okay. Even if it doesn’t seem “right” for the context of the scene. This is because people have different responses to sadness. While it’s true that we often cry, we might also laugh to deflect pain. Or, have an angry outburst. Whatever the impulse, all feelings provide fertile ground for an authentic performance.

The same principle applies to personal transformation. Every feeling that arises can be invaluable. Yet we often sanitize our emotional experiences. Pushing down difficult feelings and only welcoming the joyful ones. Even in psychotherapy, therapists may have clients by-pass the more distressful feelings. But typically, the only way out of pain is through it. And emotions serve us when we can decode their messages.

So, the next time you find yourself tip-toeing around a challenging feeling, consider the gift it might offer. Can you lean into the emotion to see what it is to trying communicate? Experiencing the feeling doesn’t mean that you have to react to it in a destructive manner. For instance, if feeling anger, you don’t need to punch the wall. Instead decisions can be made regarding how to work with the anger.

So, I encourage you in life and in art, to let yourself have your full experiences. This is where the deepest growth occurs. And where the most beautiful artistic expression emerges. Even when we think to the contrary.

Can We Ever Truly Understand and if Not, How Do We Try?

by Lise Porter

In the long over due discussions of race and class inequities in this country, it is important to note difference. Without acknowledging that the minority experience is less advantaged than the privileged one, healing can’t occur. To move beyond trauma, people need to feel heard, witnessed, and validated.

Yet while acknowledging difference is core, it’s also important to eventually draw upon common human connection and similarities. How can we do that though, if we can never truly understand someone else’s experience? And does moving toward union negate the significance and seriousness of difference?

This raises the bigger question of whether we can relate to someone else whose life experience differs from ours. For instance, does an actor have to have had every experience of its character to play it well? Or, does the actor find the core themes and parallels of her life to draw on and connect to the emotional truth of the role? Can we imagine what it would be like to be someone else? Can we care enough to? This is the heart of empathy and compassion.

And why do we automatically assume someone’s story and values are so different from our own? I remember a friend once saying, “Everyone has a story. Just because you can’t see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Another friend who is Latino and Black was once surprised to hear that my mother had spent many years in jail. He had an incarcerated family member too. When I shared, he gave me a funny look.

“What? Do I look too Waspy? ” I asked and he laughed and said, “Yes. You look way too Waspy.”

Yet just because we both understood the pain of having incarcerated family members, this didn’t mean our lives had been the same. On the contrary, they were very different. As a white woman initially raised in an upper middle class home, I had a number of advantages that come with that package.

In human relationships, we can’t ignore differences in age, class, gender, ethnicity, and childhood experiences. These factors shape who we are for the personal is indeed political. Yet there are aspects of being human that are universal. This is why we relate so well to people’s narratives. They bring us together. And all stories that are rich in aesthetics, have complex layers. Strong characters are never one dimensional. Reversals abound.

In drama, conflict launches the story. But what makes for a good ending is when we don’t see the same-old, same old. While we never want to tie things up with a glossy, fake Hollywood ending, the most exciting stories are ones where people connect and transcend. When despite it all, something changes. That is what I’m hoping for in our stories of race, class, age, and gender.

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Can We Ever Truly Understand and if Not, How Do We Try?