BEING WITH or DOING TO

Reduced to fundamentals, there are only two ways to have a relationship with someone: as a master or a manipulator. In his relationships with others, the master is "being with"; the manipulator is "doing to." Psychologist Everett Shostrom

This book is about an insight that changed my life. In looking back over my less-than-a-dozen-in-my-whole-life profound insights, this was one of the last; and it came without notice.

In-flight between Sacramento (where I was living at that time) and Houston, I was reading a then recently published book by my friend, psychologist Everett Shostrom. A previous Shostrom book, Man the Manipulator, was a best seller and contributed many exciting insights to my understanding of what it means to be more fully human. My airborne reading of this follow-up book, From Manipulator to Master, made that a day of unexpected but enormous and enduring significance for me.

In his earlier book, Shostrom explains that we're all, to some extent, manipulators. Now, in the sequel, he adds to that insight by demonstrating that the goal of manipulators in their relationships is to "do to." By that phrase, he means that within their relationships, manipulators are constantly impelled to be at work to change, to control, to correct, to convert, to convince, to coerce, to enlighten, to force, to intimidate, to impress, to manage—i.e., "doing to" the ones to whom they relate. As I reflected on Shostrom's many taken-from-life illustrations, I became aware that this was probably true of most, if not all, of my own relationships--even though, up to that moment, I'd been totally unaware of any intention to "do to" those other people.

The reverse of that, I now believe, is also true. That is, "doing to" is the goal of most of the people who relate to me, though it may never once have occurred to them that that's what they're up to. Hardly any of us of sit down and choose this as an objective in our relationships. Being manipulators is simply a behavioral pattern we've inherited from our relationships in early childhood ("Do what I say or you get no dessert."), which has now become an unconscious but habitual part of our way of dealing with life and other people. Whether in my "doings to" or others "doing to" me, Shostrom's words brought both attention and clarity to a significant source of pain and regret in my own life.

But he didn't just diagnose the problem. He offers an alternative. We have the option of choosing to change our way of relating. While manipulators seek to "do to," Shostrom writes that the goal of "masters"--authentic, nurturing, reflective, sensitive, self-actualizing, thoughtful, human beings--in their relationships is to "be with."

Briefly stated, "being with" in a relationship is the total opposite, in both form and intent, from "doing to." The ability to "be with" grows out of a genuine respect for one's own dignity and worth as a human being, and it expresses itself by showing respect for those same qualities in the persons with whom we relate. In order to "be with," we must first be in touch with, accept, and listen to our own deepest selves, which then allows us to be open and receptive to the meanings and feelings of others as well. Instead of attempting to correct, control, or change others, "being with" people are characterized by an attitude of informed acceptance, of themselves and of others. Such people can be counted on to affirm us, to listen to us with genuine interest and understanding, and to offer supportive comfort--not through adages, admonitions, or advice but with the profoundly simple authenticity of their personal presence.

After a lifetime of exposure to advertisers and pop-psychologists whose cute little phrases tickle the imagination but lack any genuine content or lasting depth, I've acquired a built-in resistance to catchy slogans and clever terminology. And yet, from the first moment I read them, Shostrom's phrases--"doing to" and "being with"--seemed different. What they say resonated in my experience. Without force or contrivance, their meanings attached themselves to actual life happenings. The pictures they created in my imagination were personal and real. They made rational sense. The insights to which they lead were exciting.

When I landed in Houston, however, I became involved almost immediately with meeting people and the demands of conducting a twoday workshop; and the "being with" insight got nudged to the back of my mind. Following my assignment in Houston, I set out for another workshop I was to conduct at a conference center in the Texas Hill Country. Some friends in Houston had loaned me their car for the trip, which allowed me to go through Austin where Dianne, the older of my two daughters, was living.

Because of the distance between Austin and my home in Sacramento, the opportunities for a personal visit with Dianne were limited. So I was delighted when this one came along. My commitments for later in the day allowed for a two-hour stopover in Austin. Dianne had arranged her work schedule so we could have an extended lunch. I set off from Houston with a joyful heart, eager to greet my daughter and to make the most of every precious moment.

All the way to Austin, almost three hours, I thought of topics Dianne and I could discuss. I wanted to make those 120 minutes as rich and memorable as possible. Though our quantity of time was limited, I wanted it to be quality time of the highest order. I didn't go so far as to articulate this objective in words, even to myself, but it was certainly my hope that our time together would be so special as to qualify for a place in Dianne's memory as one of those golden moments of joyful delight with her dad.

Just as I was approaching the outskirts of Austin, and without any obvious reason as to why, the insight I'd gotten from my reading several days before resurfaced. With a start, I realized I'd spent the last three hours doing just what Shostrom says manipulators do in their relationships. I'd been busily making plans to "do to." With love for Dianne and a totally clear conscience, I'd been constructing ways by which to control those two hours—trying to organize our time together so it would be so splendid, so filled with joy and meaning, that she would never forget it. As a matter of habit, without any awareness of what I was up to, I'd been planning to manipulate Dianne into thinking and feeling as I wanted her to think and feel.

Though I'd be giving it considerably more thought later, I shuddered as I realized something I'd never even considered before. Seldom did I have a conversation with anyone in which I didn't have some manipulative objective in the back of mind. It wasn't always to change the other person's way of thinking or acting. Maybe all I wanted to do was make them laugh, to think of me as clever; but even that is not the same as simply being open to whatever may happen in the free interchange of thoughts and feelings.

By the time I'd worked my...