Avoiding Maturity 1.0 - Rigidity

In my post last week, I introduced a model of spiritual development or maturing based on this definition of maturity: “increasing complexity held together by integrity.” In that post, I mentioned that the enemies of maturing are rigidity and fragmentation – the first is a breakdown of our ability to remain open to increasing complexity, the latter being the breakdown of our integrity.

In some fantasy, I’d imagined writing a single post on these two enemies. I started venturing in. Deep in the thicket, probably 2000 words in and still writing on rigidity alone, I realized my foolishness. These are no small, quick topics.

So, pulling myself out of the thicket and aiming for a shorter, simpler introduction, I decided to focus today only on rigidity and how it’s one of the main ways that we avoid maturing. Fragmentation will come soon. (Sounds ominous…)

Rigidity in this sense is closing ourselves off to the complex reality of our ongoing experience of life. We’ve had enough of all this change and growth. It’s become too hard or too scary, or we no longer believe that a bigger understanding is possible. Our maturing process slows to a crawl or is given up altogether.

How does this happen if maturing is a natural process, driven by internal and external forces? On top of the stubborn personalities some of us were born with, there must be forces that actively resist our openness to and engagement with the complexity of our world because it’s not natural to stop maturing at 30 or 50 or even 60 (I’ll tell you about 70 when I get there…).

So, recalling the definition, “increasing complexity held together by integrity,” here are some of the forces that I’ve observed feeding rigidity, feeding resistance to our “increasing complexity.” As a reminder that this is not a “stage theory,” I’ll add that we can meet up with this resistance and rigidity at any point in our lives.

1. Fear – We’re very familiar with the association between fear and our rigidity toward the world around us. Think of the metaphors: we put up walls, we brace ourselves, we put on a suit of armour, we close ourselves off, we shut down and so on. Some fear of change and growth is probably present in us by default – we always have to let go of the comfortable and familiar to embrace the new. Ideally, this inherent resistance is just enough to give us a set of brakes that we use to keep the pace of our maturing to a speed that does not overwhelm us. It’s good for us to mature at a slow pace as long as we remain open.

There are many ways in which our fear of complexity gets stronger. We may get wounded and need to focus on self-protection. Relationships to friends or family may be threatened if we’re open to change. We may have come to believe that a fixed understanding (a doctrine, a certain picture of God) “saved” us, possibly because that understanding was associated with a comforting or liberating emotional experience. We may feel that much of life feels out of our control, and the least we can do is “batten down the hatches” of our worldviews. Or we may just be so worn out by life that any more change will be too much and will overwhelm us.

2. Laziness – Scott Peck was fond of saying that our “original sin” is not pride but “fear and laziness.” The two are tangled together since fear robs us of motivation. We may want somewhat different metaphors for this kind of rigidity: we’re bogged down, stuck in what we’re used to. This is a more passive rigidity. We may have a little openness to what is new, but only if someone pours a bucket of ice water over our heads will we bother to face it. We’re not looking for growth.

3. Fixed Mindset – Carol Dweck is a psychologist known for emphasizing the importance of maintaining a “growth mindset” that is always open to learning from our mistakes. Many of us, however, have formed what Dweck calls a “fixed mindset” that is more interested in “looking smart” or defending views rather than getting smarter. The root of this mindset is the belief that our limitations are “set in stone.” We are who we are, and our failures are evidence of inadequacy that we need to cover up; as a result we withdraw rather than meet the challenges. This is a self-defeating belief that feeds rigidity. Believing in ongoing maturity helps us invest energy in the process.

4. Community Resistance – Most communities will limit the maturity of their members. Many will actively demand that our maturing stops at a certain point. Openness to ideas and explanations and ways of being that are beyond those of the in-group are not ok even for exploration. I hope that it’s obvious that this is true for communities across the political spectrum. Identity politics has the potential to shut down maturing just as much as fundamentalism can. Indeed, any ideological community could be a force feeding our rigidity. (And in our polarized age, the rigidity of one community is used to justify the rigidity of the one set against it.)

Undoubtedly there are more forces that feed into our rigidity, but these are the ones that I have especially seen at work. They are not all or nothing. These forces come and go, and the most rigid of us sometimes soften. Or parts of our personalities might remain open while other parts harden. This is, of course, a form of fragmentation, which will be discussed soon.

The good news is that even when we’re at our most rigid, reality has a way of seeping in through the cracks and widening those cracks, if not blowing the whole thing open. We can fiercely resist all kinds of new ideas, and then one day meet a new person or a new situation enters our lives, and a new paradigm is necessary to make sense of life.

Finding a compassionate relationship or community that supports real maturing also has deep power to soften us. Trusting in a Presence of Love that is far more mysterious and alive than any idolatrously rigid image of God can help us risk opening ourselves again to the fullness of our complex world. We all so desperately need these to stay open, soft and alive.

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[This is part of a series of posts exploring a contemplative pathway to healing/maturing that I call “a compassionate consent to reality.” For an introduction to the project, you may want to see this post here, or perhaps better, a summary here. I’m so grateful for your interest and for any comments that you may have!]

Who’s stubborn?