on Crossing

There is so much to say about Crossing – but \ I’ll begin with an example from life.

(And that’s part of the point. Maybe I’ll write about that at the end…)

When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I used to do a lot of babysitting in my neighborhood.

And it was hard for me.

One day I went to fly a kite in the field behind my house. Alone.

I don’t know whether you have the experience, the feeling, the whole way of being with a kite somewhere in your memory (especially a handmade one… not exactly balanced or easygoing).

In any case, it wasn’t working…

It would rise and crash.

Rise, and then fall again.

And I ran, and sweated, and got pricked by thorns, and rescued it.

And I worried…

And for a moment I was afraid I had lost it…

And then I got disappointed.

And even angry.

And it was hard.

And then…

Something formed in me for the first time (though I only understood this in retrospect — and Gendlin has something to say about that too…):

Crossing.

I thought:

How much flying a kite is like raising and educating children.

For example:

• How much effort there is in it… and ongoing commitment.

• You can’t just leave in the middle.

I mean, maybe you can, but then everything will fall apart.

(Well, sorry, I was nine.)

• And how much sweat, hope, and disappointment there is in it.

• But also passion and joy.

• And there is a kind of knowing in it that comes from the body, a kind of intuition — how much to pull and how much to let go.

• And around that, a whole world opened up for me:

Because it is so similar—

If we let go (give lots of free string all at once) (a kite, and also a child), they will get confused and dart in all sorts of directions. They may soar, but they may also dive and crash a moment later.

And if we keep a short leash (a kite, and also a child), the movement will be limited… and somewhat tense, almost irritable. They will not get where they might have been able to reach. There will be a feeling of things accumulating and piling up, a kind of inner anger and resentment. And the connection (the string) will not move smoothly. There will be little jerks and tremors in it…

And it, too, may tear.

• But,

it is also possible to trust the thing itself.

To let go a little, and see what happens.

And then hold a little, reminding it that we are here…

And that this is the ground from which it can reach the clouds.

Literally.

• And how much the kite (and also a child) needs the ground, the connection, the base…

Without the thing that ties it below, it actually cannot rise higher.

This understanding brought me a kind of shock.

A stopping.

A sense of wonder.

And it also uplifted me.

The understanding about raising children.

And also the understanding that knowledge can be carried from one field to another, and back again.

That is exactly Crossing.

It is a human thing.

Gendlin did not “invent” it.

It is a symbolic capacity, a kind of poetics, that already exists within us as human beings.

Focusing simply conceptualizes it.

And teaches us how to use it for our own purposes.

For growth, understanding, deepening, and development.

(And also for processes of change, repair, and healing — but that is for another post.)

And how does it happen?

Because, as in this example—

When I looked at these two things together (because they were both present in my life at the same time),

I could learn a great deal about education and raising children (well, back then my challenge was “only” babysitting) through experiencing and knowing things about flying a kite.

And I could learn a great deal about kites through the experience of caring for children.

That is Crossing.

And in the clinic?

When two things arise together within a session, one can invite a person to look at one through the experience of the other.

(It is always worth looking through the gateway of the Felt Sense, and not only through words.)

And vice versa.

Or:

When there is an issue that seems unsolvable, one can invite knowledge, experience, and understanding from another field.

About this and more,

I am always happy to talk.

And soon I will be opening a reading group around Gendlin’s foundational book,

a book that both explains Focusing and arises from it.

(If you’re interested, write to me here or in a private message.)

And tell me:

What meaningful Crossings have you experienced in the past?

Or what came up for you while reading this?

It would make me happy to hear.

In the picture:

Fields, with an implying toward a kite.