Life is a story, progressively unfolding through time and opportunity. If we accept this a priori definition, the obvious question that sets between the lines on the page is, of course, "who is the author?" This fundamental question can be answered in practical terms by examining how a person formulates their relationships and their operative orientation towards the significant participants in their life. In these critical stories, we discover what could be called our spiritual philosophy--one's fundamental psychological predisposition to authorship or authority.
In any relational context there is always the you and the me. As such, there are some that conclude “I” am the author of my story. This can be ”ism-ized” by such personal variances as individualism, hedonism, or narcissism. Others might view the “you” in one’s life, as the author of their story. This can be described by such terms as fanaticism, conformism, asceticism, or the popular psychology term “co-dependence”. Still others go a step further abstracting the “you” to an “it”. The "it" being some system of authority that one submits to define how one should live their lives, such as a religious or cultural institution, or philosophical abstraction or principle. This can possibly take the form of behavioralism, moralism, rationalism, or emotionalism. Of course these delineations cannot even be verbalized by most individuals, but the pattern is overt and predictable in the methods and associations, and particularly the manner of relationships that manifest by each of these spiritual philosophies.
The common denominator between these spiritual philosophies is their exclusionary construction. If “I” am the “captain of my destiny” then “fuck off, who are you to tell me what to do.” If “you” are the master of my destiny, then my hopes, dreams, and vulnerabilities don't matter, I am here to serve your needs, “so what can I do for you now.” If “it” is the most important thing in my life then my worth and identity are subordinate to how well I represent the qualities of the institution or principle, “Wow, what a great Christian she is, always going to church, reading her Bible, and she doesn’t hang out with the wrong crowd.” In each case some part of the relational equation is unequal—“I”, “It”, or “You” is greater or more important than you or me—somebody, some part of the ”who”, the sacredness of the two, is negated, discarded, or deemphasized.
So is it possible to have an inclusive spiritual philosophy, one based on the universal principles of trust, respect, compassion, and generosity? Many view this as a religious question, or a question of morality. However, this has an intrinsic psychosis manifest within it. Once one constructs a system that instructs the individual to conform to the system, even if the goals are such noble endeavors as peace, love, and understanding—relationally we have failed; this is merely moralism at its best, it still excludes the process and value of mutuality.
Relationalism as a spiritual philosophy can be described simply as a framework that embraces dialogue and mutuality as of primary operative importance in developing and maintaining relationship. It is collaborative by intent, the only construct is mutuality, inclusiveness of each participants passions, beliefs, and feelings. The only demand is to exist within the between, to encapsulate the “us” that evolves from the encounter.
As high minded as this may seem, it is also a natural phenomenon, though more transient in scope and determination. It is ephemeral by nature. Healthy friendships, families, and communities do manifest themselves on occasion, just not always in the expected ways, due to the intrinsic existential dynamic of the necessity to rise to the occasion or the needs of the moment; possibly reaching out to someone who has fallen to restore them to integrity, as opposed to becoming the hero to their victim. It is a process that respects where the other is at rather than imposing a notion of what or where you think they should be.
Relationalism as a spiritual philosophy can be described simply as a framework that embraces dialogue and mutuality as of primary operative importance in developing and maintaining relationship. It is collaborative by intent, the only construct is mutuality, inclusiveness of each participants passions, beliefs, and feelings. The only demand is to exist within the between, to encapsulate the “us” that evolves from the encounter.
As high minded as this may seem, it is also a natural phenomenon, though more transient in scope and determination. It is ephemeral by nature. Healthy friendships, families, and communities do manifest themselves on occasion, just not always in the expected ways, due to the intrinsic existential dynamic of the necessity to rise to the occasion or the needs of the moment; possibly reaching out to someone who has fallen to restore them to integrity, as opposed to becoming the hero to their victim. It is a process that respects where the other is at rather than imposing a notion of what or where you think they should be.
Humanistically, the presumption of Relationalism is that each person has an intrinsic value--a value which is not defined by our expectations, but rather, is based on mere existence. The drive is towards relationship in spite of our differences, the question is, even if we disconnect on certain value points or experiences, then where or on what other values can we connect while still being authentic and true to who we are. The dysfunctional tendency to dehumanize, to reframe the other as “enemy” or “monster”, the basis for conflict and warfare both on a personal and societal level, must be critically held and worked through; rather than promoted or given into. When damage is done to us, we are invited to find the path of relationship even within the conflict, to not invoke the storyline of destruction, punishment, and moralistic justice--“an eye for an eye” as Gandhi once pointed out,” makes the whole world blind.” The psychology of such a spiritual philosophy while important to explore are broader and certainly more complex than the scope of these essential ruminations, but most certainly must include the boundaries and protection of both society and the individual, while recognizing the humanity of the one who causes the damage.
This relationalist manifesto is not a guide but a question put forth to ask not so much “why?” but “why not?” If we can agree, perhaps presumptively, that love is a good thing, then why not agree that it is good thing to act upon, to explore, to struggle to actualize in a world of “shoulds” and “should nots”, to live our lives exploring the question “who are you and how can we get along.” Can we move beyond the powerful exclusionary philosophies that define much of the political and economic questions of our day to open up to collaborate on what can be accomplished between and by “us.”
