Finding Your Querencia in the Pause
In bullfighting there is an
interesting parallel to what I call the art of pausing, as a place of refuge
and renewal. It is believed that in the midst of a fight, a bull can find his
own particular area of safety in the arena. There he can reclaim his strength
and power. This place and inner state are called his querencia. As
long as the bull remains enraged and reactive, the matador is in charge. Yet
when he finds querencia, he gathers his strength and loses his fear. From the
matador’s perspective, at this point the bull is truly dangerous, for he has
tapped into his power.
The experience of one of my
clients, Laura, provides a good example of how we can all learn to face our own
matadors by courageously learning to pause in order to harness the strength of
our querencia.
In the beginning of our
therapy sessions, Laura had begun referring to her mother as “the dragon”
because of the incinerating burn of her words. At one meeting we did a guided
visualization, and Laura imagined herself involved in a struggle with a real
dragon. She saw herself crawling on the ground, dodging behind boulders,
climbing and hiding in tree branches. Reptilian and ferocious, the dragon found
her everywhere she hid. Avoiding its eyes, Laura continually struggled to
escape from its fiery breath. Immersed in this drama, she told me she felt weak
and exhausted from her efforts to escape, and much too small to fight back.
I suggested to Laura that she
could face her mother’s attacks from a place of inner strength by learning how
to pause. When fear or rage surged up in her, she could stop all outward
activity and simply pay attention to what she was experiencing inside her. I
let her know that if she could pause instead of shouting or storming out of
painful encounters, she would, in time, find her own querencia,
and be able to respond to her circumstances in a more balanced and effective
way.
Learning how to do this is not
easy work. When we first practice pausing, we can easily be swept away into the
raw feelings that have been dictating our behavior for so many years. It is
important to ease in gradually, and, if possible, with the support of others.
Practicing by imagining a recent or likely situation is useful. Yet if we get
caught in a charged situation, a good way to begin is to take a “time out” and
find a quiet, safe place to practice the pause. It always helps to start with a
few deep breaths, consciously relaxing the body and mind.
After several weeks of
practicing like this in our therapy sessions, Laura came in one day and told me
that something had genuinely shifted. At a dinner with her family, her mother
had started demanding to know when she was going to start looking for a new
job. Before Laura had a chance to respond, her mother leaned forward, her voice
sharp and derisive. “Don’t tell me. I know. You’re just waiting for it to drop
into your lap … like manna from heaven.” As if Laura’s silence were a green
light to continue, her mother broadened the attack: “So, are you planning to
have Phil support you all your life?”
Heart pounding loudly, Laura
paused and took a few deep breaths. She felt searing heat in her chest, as if
she had been stabbed, and everything in her wanted to scream out in rage. But
instead, she simply said, “I don’t know, Mom,” and sat back in her chair.
“Right” her mother retorted, perhaps surprised to receive so little fuel for
her fire, and turned away to talk with Laura’s brother.
Laura didn’t know what would
happen next. As she continued in the pause, she felt her body trembling and
shaking. Her chest felt like it was about to burst open. She noticed the
confusion of stories swirling through her mind: “Laura the one who screws up,”
“Laura the raging maniac.”
In the midst of this turmoil
she heard an inner voice whisper, “This feels horrible … and I can handle it.”
Since she had felt this agitation many times in our therapy sessions, she knew
it was bearable and wouldn’t last. As Laura relaxed she felt a spaciousness
slowly opening in her chest and throat. The sharp hurt began dissolving, and in
its place a profound sense of sorrow arose. As she allowed all these feelings
to unfold, she felt as if she were gently caring for the wounded places inside
her.
No longer trapped inside a
trance of unworthiness, Laura could now imagine some choices. She could stay
for the rest of the evening, or go home. She could confront her mother and tell
her why she hadn’t found a job, or she could let the incident slide. Whatever
her response, it would now arise from a fresh way of responding to her own
self. Pausing had enabled Laura to accept everything she was feeling, and she
was left with a surprising warmth and kindness.
When she looked at her mother,
Laura felt a upsurge of tenderness. She saw a woman ensnared in her own
insecurity, words tumbling out of control, hands tightened into fists. By the
time they parted later that evening, she was actually able to look her mother
in the eye, touch her arm, smile.
Laura had faced the dragon,
both in her mother and in herself. Underneath her mother’s fiery exterior she
had found a wounded person. Similarly, Laura’s dragon had been guarding her own
vulnerability, her fear of being bad, her shame. Under the layers of sharp
scales she had found her own soft and kind heart. By tapping into her own querencia, Laura could now act from a place of strength, compassion,
and balance.
Poet Rainer Maria Rilke
expresses a deep understanding of the dragons all of us face: “How could we
forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races—the myths
about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses. Perhaps
all the dragons in our lives are only princesses waiting for us to act, just
once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its
deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
From Radical Acceptance (2003)
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