Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Controlled Burn

A few years ago I had the opportunity to hike in the beautiful, emerald forests surrounding Lake Tahoe for the first time, but midway through I was surprised to wander upon dozens and dozens of what appeared to be funeral pyres dotting the hillsides; dry brush and splintered tree limbs gathered together and neatly stacked in piles, waiting to be set ablaze in controlled burns the forestry service systematically conducts every autumn. These stacks of debris were, in some cases, only a few yards away from 100 foot pines and I couldn’t help but reflect on the control the firefighters have to have over these fires they intentionally set, to keep the burns from becoming an infernal nightmare. It is well known that to not clear space and remove excess flammable material would be to limit the sustained growth of the forest, and set the region up for a major disaster. The inherent risk of controlled burns is essential for long-term safety. To lower this risk, of course, the forestry service is very careful to choose what they burn, where they burn, and when they burn.

Anger is something like fire, burning white-hot with intensity and power. It can be used for illumination and warmth, and to clear away the emotional and spiritual debris getting in the way of healthy growth in a marriage. Or, it can be permitted to burn out of control, destroying anything and everything in its path and leaving a trail of death in its wake. As a clinical psychologist, I’m actually concerned when I hear a couple say that they never fight, and never get angry with each other. This isn’t real, and is sure evidence that at least one person in the relationship is hiding. Human beings step on toes while dancing, and occasionally stomping, through life. Even when we’re not trying to be hurtful, it’s just a matter of time, and when the hurt comes the burn of anger is soon to follow. Fine, as long as these burns are “controlled.” Like the forestry service preparing for life-sustaining burns in the mountains, time and place is critical.

Fighting in front of others, in public view, is the emotional and spiritual equivalent of the forestry firemen randomly setting anything they see that’s brown on fire, and choosing the windiest, driest day to do the burn. I’m not talking about the moments where disagreements spring up in the course of conversation. A husband and wife might disagree about any number of different issues ranging in importance, and still “contain the burn” in public by staying sensitive to tone of voice, level of anger and hurt, amount of time the disagreement is allowed to run, and the reactions of those around them. Before too long, a neutral statement like, “Let’s talk more about this later”, or “I guess we can agree to disagree” is offered and accepted. No, I’m talking here about the fighting that doesn’t have boundaries.

Think of the last time you were at a family gathering, or double dating, or just sitting in a public space, and you observed two people fighting. It may have had a loud and emotionally violent quality to it, it may have been cutting and sarcastic, and it may have been chillingly quiet, but you felt the toxicity in the air and probably wanted to head in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be around. Fighting in public is rude and selfish, with the implied message being, “Our problem is more important than your peace.” It chokes community and friendship. Specific to your marriage, when you fight in public you disrespect yourself, your spouse, and the very marriage vows you made.

You won’t always like the person you’re married to, and sometimes that dislike may even tempt you to hurt the one you love publicly, but don’t let that push you beyond appropriate social limits. If you do give in, trust in yourself and your partner will erode, and the cancer of disdain grows. Fight, but be careful to choose where, when, and how. Otherwise, you could be setting a forest fire in your marriage that does irreparable damage.