Intimacy’s Role in Conflict

What in the world does intimacy have to do with conflict?

I think a lot. Let me explain.

A baffling and confusing event recently occurred in a professional organization to which I belong. The organization is chock-a-block with leaders, consultants, and academics—most, if not all, of whom meditate as a way to develop their consciousness so they can act in more conscious ways.

And yet, when disagreements among leadership and staff led to conflict, it appeared as if everyone headed for the exits. They returned only to decide, in one case, to try to control the situation and, in another, to leave.

In any case, no one handled the situation as I would have hoped. I was mostly peripheral to what happened, so my knowledge is secondhand. Still, I found it baffling. These are people with considerable experience in the world of consciously creating change.

I have noticed this same dynamic in other organizations and groups committed to developing consciousness. They may be deeply invested in awareness, reflection, and personal growth, yet seem unable to handle disagreement. Conflict gets ignored or avoided until people either blow up at one another or simply leave.

Why is that?

Defining Conflict

“Conflict” comes from the Latin conflictus, meaning “to strike together.” In Middle English, conflicten meant “to engage in battle.” The earliest use of the word dates to the early 15th century.

We humans have a long history of conflict: serious disagreements, arguments, or differences that prevent agreement.

Are we getting any more adept at handling it?

When we are in conflict with others, the fields inside and around us can feel frightening, claustrophobic, or overwhelming. We can unconsciously slip into primitive responses: fighting, fleeing, freezing, or fawning.

Fighting escalates conflict. Fleeing, freezing, and fawning are ways of avoiding it.

Is there another approach?

Intimacy’s Role

“Intimacy” comes from the Latin intimus, meaning “inmost,” “innermost,” or “deepest.”

There are at least four kinds of intimacy: physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. Here I want to explore emotional and spiritual intimacy because these may be the most difficult to access when we are in conflict.

Conflict can frighten us, and fear can quickly turn to anger. We may fear losing a relationship, losing others’ respect, or losing our sense of self. This becomes especially powerful when our points of view or positions become intertwined with our identity.

Suddenly, a disagreement can feel like a fight for survival.

Anger becomes the way we defend ourselves.

God forbid we should admit that we are afraid!

And yet, acknowledging our fear may be precisely what opens the door to intimacy.

When we can say, “I’m afraid,” rather than attack, withdraw, or blame, something can shift. We soften our hearts. We become more available to ourselves and to one another. We can begin connecting and interacting in ways that seemed unimaginable at the beginning of the conflict.

This act of intimacy can open the relational field to different forces—forces that may support movement where previously there seemed to be none.

Spiritual intimacy is trickier.

It can easily become what is sometimes called a “spiritual bypass”: using spiritual ideas or practices to avoid facing unresolved emotional issues or challenges in ourselves and with others—in other words, our shadow.

“I am a spiritual person, so I don’t get angry.”

“I don’t judge.”

“I don’t argue with others.”

When we consciously or unconsciously override the shadow aspects of ourselves, they often burst forth in surprising and unhelpful ways. In other words, the very things we believe we have transcended can drive us toward primitive approaches to conflict.

And yet, spiritual intimacy can also be a doorway.

Sharing our most deeply held beliefs and values can create opportunities for connection and interaction that shift the field among us and open new pathways forward.

Skillfully communicating our emotions and deeply held beliefs and values requires us to stay present, be vulnerable, and open ourselves to the emotions, beliefs, and values of others.

This can create life-giving, relational fields.

Skillful sharing of emotion begins with:

“I feel ______.”

Not:

“You make me feel ______.”

The difference is profound. One takes responsibility for one’s experience. The other assigns responsibility for it to someone else.

Skills and Shadows

There are multiple models and approaches to handling conflict, which I won't attempt to summarize here. That said, I believe there are four foundational skills for handling conflict skillfully:

· Listen and reflect back what you are hearing. This acknowledges the other person and helps ensure that you understand them accurately.

· Describe the other person’s behavior without interpretation or judgment.

· Share the impact of that behavior on you.

· Ask for what you most deeply need.

The latter two require intimacy—with ourselves and with others.

This is where shadow becomes particularly important.

Shadow represents what we are unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge about ourselves: fear, anger, envy, greed, and other traits, emotions, and drives that our conscious selves may find unacceptable.

Carl Jung described the shadow as a component of the unconscious containing aspects of ourselves that the conscious ego rejects.

But the shadow is not necessarily all bad.

It can also contain suppressed creativity, spontaneity, vitality, and strength.

We all have shadows—unconscious material that we may ignore until it bursts forth through our actions, often causing damage to relationships and embarrassment to ourselves.

The shadow can be triggered by a sense of threat. It can also be activated when we encounter in others traits we have overlooked or rejected in ourselves.

In other words, sometimes we are disturbed by the very thing in another person that we have not yet acknowledged in ourselves.

Organizations have shadows, too.

For example, in the professional organization I mentioned earlier, there seemed to be an unconscious norm that everyone should agree with one another, remain in “oneness,” and avoid conflict.

Perhaps the very commitment to consciousness had created a shadow: the inability to be in conscious disagreement.

That possibility intrigues me.

What happens when an organization becomes so committed to harmony that it cannot tolerate the friction necessary for growth?

What happens when “oneness” becomes more important than honest relationship?

The Way Out Is Through the Door

Perhaps becoming more adept at handling conflict requires us to become more intimate—with ourselves, with our shadows, and with one another.

It means becoming intimate with our personal field, including the fear, anger, vulnerability, creativity, spontaneity, and strength that may be lurking there.

It means becoming intimate with others by communicating what we feel and what we most deeply believe and value.

And it means remaining present and curious enough to encounter what emerges in the space or field among us.

Conflict may not be something we need to eliminate.

Perhaps it is something we need to learn to enter more skillfully.

The way out may be through the door of intimacy.

What conflicts are you avoiding?

And why