So on the surface, your partner, a man whose work you respect enormously, has reason to be apprehensive. I was leaning toward him and speaking directly and intimately to the central self of the younger man.This is his life’s work.He does not want it to disappear.Yes, I know.A common truth was told.The storm of combative energy subsided.The next thing I wanted to find out was whether the central self of the older man thought it was best for the company that the junior partner stay or go.The central self always appraises the truth of the whole situation without guile or agenda.Is your partner capable of raising the necessary money? I asked him.Yes, was the answer, if he would only stop lying to himself.We had a deal in the making, I was certain now, since both men wanted to see the business succeed, and each felt the other was capable of doing his part.My assumption was that both aspects of the senior partner, his collaborative central self and his strategic calculating self, had had a hand in writing the contract.The task was to separate the voices so that the older man would have a choice to draft a more effective document.I asked him whether he had any sons—had he ever become exasperated enough with their teenage arrogance to secretly hope they would fail?He replied that his sons had never caused him any trouble comparable to the headaches this man had given him.I asked him if that part of him had had a hand in writing the contract.Probably.My guess is that you know precisely what your friend here can accomplish under the best of circumstances, and what he can’t.So you know that if the part of you that is angered and wants to see him fail prevails, he will fail, and of course the business will go with him.He nodded, then curtly complimented his partner on having hired me.My sense was that the younger man would now be in a more cooperative place, because he had witnessed the senior partner virtually admitting to sabotage.When you look to people’s central selves and conduct an honest conversation, a culture forms that is hard to resist.For the calculating self to emerge in this culture is as difficult as trying to hum a tune in B minor while the chorus around you is singing in C major.Now the idea was that the two men should work together to modify the contract to provide the greatest possible support for their joint venture.For that, I asked the senior partner to interview the junior partner to find out which parts of the contract seemed unrealistic to him.When tension arose over any particular item and the calculating selves stepped in, I was there to give full existence to the fears.This is different than allowing the negotiations to be run by the fears.For instance, when the junior partner said, I feel this is unfair because you get all the upside here, and I take all the downside, I reminded him that his senior partner was fearful because he had much more to lose than money.Why don’t you make sure that the contract reflects your capabilities, I said, and put a little less attention on what will happen if it doesn’t work out?The younger man heard my warning not to argue this point because it would increase his partner’s fear.He recognized that his job was to earn the confidence of his senior partner.The conversation became increasingly buoyant and energized.Perhaps the light of their original vision for the company began to filter back through.So when the junior partner said, I can’t agree to having that much money in hand by the end of November, but I will have a deal in the works by then.The money will be in the bank by January 1, the senior partner had confidence in his prediction.They managed to write up the terms of the contract in a format that was ready to be reviewed by their lawyers in time for the senior partner to make his eleven o’clock meeting.The younger partner, feigning innocence, joked, Yes, but why did it take us so long? Possibility was in the air.It is what a person who has survived—and knows it—looks like.The central self smiles at the calculating self’s perceptions, understanding that they are the relics of our ancestry, the necessary illusions of childhood.Fine, if the child thinks there is such a thing as not belonging, so he can shriek and wail at the first hint of being forgotten at the grocery store.However, the central self knows that not belonging and being insufficient are thoughts both as native to us and as illusory as Santa Claus.It understands that the threatening aspects of what we encounter are often illusions that do not bear taking seriously.Unencumbered by the obstacles that the calculating self tackles daily, the central self can listen in innocence for who we are, listen for the whole of it, inquire into what is here.The calculating self will never hear the whispers of compassion between people on a busy street, never feel the complex rhythms of our breathing against the swaying of trees and the oscillations of the tide, never attune itself to the long rhythms that give us meaning.Its attention is on its own comparisons and schemes.But the central self is open and aware because it need only be the unique voice that it is, an expression that transcends the personality that got it out of childhood alive.Transformation, for our central selves, is a description of the mode through which we move through life.A transformation is a shift in how we experience the world, and these shifts happen continually, often just beyond our notice.As soon as a person sets out on an adventure, or falls in love, or starts a new job, she is likely to find herself feeling and thinking and talking like a new person, curious as to how she could have felt the way she had just days earlier.From the perspective of the central self, life moves with fluidity like a constantly varying river, and so do we.Confident that it can deal with whatever comes its way, it sees itself as permeable rather than vulnerable, and stays open to influence, to the new and the unknown.Under no illusion that it can control the movement of the river, it joins rather than resists its bountiful flow.Vikram Savkar, a friend of ours, told us the story of an experience that had become for him an icon for the openness and generosity of the central self.Yet the story he tells depicts his own central self emerging into a cooperative universe, inviting us to join him in play.Last night, I visited one of my old college haunts, a seedy diner located south of the campus.I took a place at the counter next to a man who appeared, on a second look, to be homeless.Before him, meticulously laid out, were three dollar bills and some change, apparently all he had in the world.When the waitress appeared, I ordered a hamburger—but the man put out his hand as if to slow me down.With a grand gesture, he announced, It’s on me.You can have anything you want tonight, and you won’t pay a penny.It’s all on me. I protested that I could not possibly do that.He was offering me the whole of his worldly possessions, and I certainly could not accept such a gift.But he was determined to have his moment.You are going to have what you want, and it’s on me. He pushed all his money toward the indifferent woman behind the counter.I was aware of every delicious bite of that hamburger, every sip of coffee.This momentary universe teemed with delicious smells from the grill, while voices of happiness emanated from a couple chatting at a booth.And I, I had the deeply satisfying experience of being there while all this took place.I thanked him for everything.This new universe is cooperative in nature, and pulls for the realization of all our cooperative desires.For the most part it lies a bit above our heads.Angels can fly there because, as you may have heard, they take themselves lightly.But now with the help of a single rule, so can we.Christmas day on the farm.The pig, cow, hens, and Ferdinand the duck crowd by the kitchen window, craning their necks to see which unfortunate one of their kind has been chosen to become the main course at dinner.On the platter is Roseanna the duck, dressed with sauce l’orange.She had such a beautiful nature.I can’t take it anymore!It’s too much for a duck.It eats away at the soul .The only way to find happiness is to accept that the way things are is the way things are.The way things are stinks!Presumably, the cow will go like a lamb to the slaughter, while the duck will look for means of escape.But what if there is no apparent way out?Will the duck spend what he conceives to be his last days in misery, flapping against the walls of his cage?It is to be present to the way things are, including our feelings about the way things are.This practice can help us clarify the next step that will take us in the direction we say we want to go.Why hang around and feel like a sucker? it asks.What is here now? it asks, and then,What else is here now?

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