On the Evolution of Intimacy

We’ll turn to a few additional complexity-related topics in wrapping up. Each relates to how context affects how we make choices. These topics will involve more detail than some readers of this book may need. Arguably this chapter is most appropriate for the efforts of people in the helping professions. But the average reader should at least benefit from recognizing that these further kinds of complexity affect their choices. And more conceptually, the underlying patterns I will describe are at least provocative. Recognizing how they come into play in further ways helps turn complexity into possibility—and even simplicity.

The first topic concerns how our choices are going to be different depending on when we make them. We’ve seen how this is the case as a product of our time in culture. Here we will take a quick look at how this is also true as a function of where we reside in an individual relationship’s development. I include this first topic both because it provides an additional tool for making our way in today’s more demanding relationship world and because it further highlights CST’s power as an approach for making sense of change in human systems. CST alerts us to how we can recognize a related kind of patterning with human developmental processes of all sorts.

The second topic turns more specifically to how we are different from one another. We will look into some of the implications of personality style differences for how we make choices and also for what love today requires of us. In a similar way, I include this second topic both for its practical usefulness and for how it shines a light on CST’s ability to address human systems—in this case, more here-and-now systemic relationships.

Both of these further kinds of complexity have always before had a role in our identity- and relationship-related decisions. But as with previous kinds of complexity we have looked at, before now culturally defined behavioral codes have limited their effects. Today’s more unfettered and direct engagement of experience means that each now confronts us more immediately. Today’s changing realties also mean that in new ways we can draw on understanding these additional kinds of complexity to support the sophistication we bring to our discernments.

Making sense of these observations will again require that we recognize a kind of pattern that we can fully appreciate only with Cultural Maturity’s cognitive reordering. Each kind of pattern involves not just complexity in the sense of more factors to consider, but complexity in the more dynamic and creative sense that makes us human. This means that each will require that we stretch how we usually think. But it also means that engaging these further topics offers an additional reward beyond just helping us choose more effectively. Stretching to get our arms around such complexity in turn helps support culturally mature perspective’s more encompassing kind of understanding.

This book’s big-picture conclusions have all involved putting identity and love in a particularly overarching kind of temporal context— the evolution of culture. We’ve seen how the ways we think about identity and love, and more than this, what creates identity and love as experience, have changed through history in characteristic ways.

We can expand this developmental way of thinking to other kinds of change processes. When we do, we gain important additional tools for making our way in today’s ever more complex identity and relationship landscape.

The most obvious further developmental contextual variable is the one I’ve drawn on metaphorically in speaking of a needed cultural “growing up”: individual psychological development. Over the course of our lifetimes, we proceed through identifiable developmental stages. With each stage, not only do our needs change in predictable ways, but how we understand does as well. This includes how we understand identity and love.

Developmental psychology was added to the social sciences only in the last century. Given that today even the most basic study of psychology would be incomplete without an introduction to stages in individual development, this might come as a surprise. CST proposes an explanation. As with cultural stages, we need at least the beginnings of culturally mature perspective to fully grasp how deeply developmental stages in our individual lives alter our experience of reality.

CST also ties these personal and developmental observations together in a way that has radical implications. It describes how stages in individual development in important ways parallel those we’ve observed for development in culture. Its explanation for such perhaps surprising similarities is that each kind of change is a formative/creative process. Each reflects how such processes work in human systems. (I’ve described CST’s claim that human intelligence is structured specifically to support our tool-making, meaning-making—we could say simply “creative”—natures.)¹

Shortly I’ll touch on how the dynamics of identity and love change as part of individual development. Going into great detail in this regard is beyond our scope in this short book. But simply recognizing that identity and love change in predictable ways over the course of our lives helps us be more aware and sophisticated in our choices.

Given our focus with this book, one additional kind of developmental change process does in fact warrant a closer look. It turns out that relationships too go through creative stages. Recognizing how this is the case when we are in them can be almost impossible—or more accurately, before now it has been nearly impossible. With Cultural Maturity’s cognitive reordering, here too we can begin to step back and appreciate that in fact what we are engaged in is a process—and a very particular, specifically creative kind of process.

Below, I’ve briefly described relationships in terms of creative stages. And just a bit, I’ve placed these descriptions in the contexts of individual psychological development and the larger evolution of culture. We can learn a lot from observing how these various kinds of developmental processes interplay. For example, it turns out that our experience of shorter developmental processes such as the course of a relationship is influenced by where we reside in the more extended developmental realities that they lie within. Just how a developmental stage manifests, and often whether it is available to manifest at all, is affected by its developmental contexts.

Relationships don’t necessarily follow these stages precisely—there is individual variation, and one-step-forward/two-steps-back exceptions are common. But the recognition of general pattern gives us another tool for our relationship tool kit.

The Pre-Axis stage in relationship is primarily a time of internal preparation—for the integration of earlier experiences of relationship, for deepening one’s relationship with oneself. It is important that in entering into a new relationship we first somehow make space for it in ourselves. If we fail to do so, the new relationship will only relive what came before. Pre-Axis is a time for doing the internal growing that will let a new relationship be something that is in fact new

Early-Axis dynamics come into play with the first recognitions of attraction. Feelings may at first be barely recognizable. Or they can be dramatically disruptive. Caught in fantasy and images of possibility, we can become “starry-eyed,” fall “head over heels.”

As with Early-Axis in other kinds of formative processes, this stage in relationship can be at once profound and also a bit crazy. It is a time of risking in a most vulnerable sense. And at once it is a time when it can be easy to confuse the excitement of what might be with more realized relationship. But even our illusions have their place. They compel us to take the next often frightening steps toward real personal closeness, something we might not find the courage to do if we knew the distance that truly remained between fact and fancy.

If relationship is happening within childhood, this may be the only stage that we see. By virtue of the permeability of child reality, such bonds can be quite close. Or they can offer intense feelings when the actual contact has been but a few shared words, or even just gazing from afar. In later life, love relationships can end here, either because there is not enough substance for them to go further or from fear of dealing with the challenges of the next stage. And sometimes development in a relationship stops at this point but the people remain together. If this happens, the relationship becomes ordered around habitual patterns of fantasy.

With Middle-Axis dynamics, the “honeymoon” draws to a close and we begin dealing with tasks of crafting more substantive relationship. Particularly early on in this, the most emotion-laden stage, we may struggle with discrepancies between our original dreams and the facts of what we discover. Feelings can flip between extremes, sometimes with disorienting rapidity. But eventually we settle into a time of sorting out: working out who takes charge when, risking to express the resentments along with the joys. It is here that we determine whether the relationship is worth working for. And we begin accepting the deep responsibilities that solid relationship necessarily involves.

Within childhood, it is rare for relationships to progress this far. With adolescence, this stage often plays the largest role (and is most commonly where relationships end). Later in life, relationships can stop here either because it becomes clear that there is no reason to go on, or out of fear of moving into the more fully committed reality of the next stage. Relationships that fixate at this stage tend to be either highly controlled or chronically filled with struggle.

By the time a love relationship enters into the Late-Axis stage in its development, there is shared acceptance that the relationship is important and worth committing to. The major groundwork for relationship now established, focus can now shift to the “finishing and polishing” tasks essential for ongoing partnership: more clearly recognizing each person’s wants and needs, defining roles and expectations, working out the details of being together. The previous stage’s roller-coaster feelings tend now to stabilize as complementary routines are found.

This stage first becomes available in late adolescence and early adulthood, allowing love to move beyond both the dreams and the often-conflicted passions of earlier periods and become more fully established. Again, this stage can also serve as a stopping point in a relationship, either because of good judgement or fear. When growth in a relationship stops here and people stay together, the connection tends to become dry, habitual, and objectified. The partners come more and more to “take each other for granted.” More than connection as established behaviors is needed for enduring love.

As relationship moves past this stage, we begin to confront challenges at a personal level that parallel the more integrative tasks I’ve described with our time in culture. Within that particular bond, we face the easily disturbing recognition that our past belief that just being with this other person could make us forever safe and happy may have been an illusion. This is a common time for divorce. But if it is right to persist, we find that the reality beyond, while more ordinary than our previous dreams, is in truth a much greater prize. Within the creative process of that relationship, we discover a more authentic ability to in fact love one another.

How encompassing these integrative changes are will be a function of the defining cultural stage. Before today, these integrative dynamics in relationship have always taken place within the contexts of culture’s parental presence and the roles and forms of predefined cultural truths. In the future, these changes will increasingly be possible within a similarly transforming cultural reality. It is these more encompassing changes that this book has been about.

I’ve left one of the most provocative kinds of complexity for last—the role of temperament—personality style differences. I hinted at some of its importance early on in observing that, depending on temperament, a man might embody more of the archetypally feminine than a woman and a woman, in a similar way, might embody more of the archetypally masculine.

For this book’s reflections, temperament differences gain particular significance for a perhaps surprising reason. Love relationships between people with different personality styles are becoming increasingly common. We’ve always recognized that in some way, “opposites attract.” But in times past, this almost always referred to opposites within the same basic temperament grouping. In the same way that today we are becoming more comfortable with bonds between people of different ethnicities and with same-sex partnerships, we are also becoming more open to connections that span temperament extremes. With growing frequency in working with couples, I encounter relationships between people with different basic personality styles, particularly among those who are beginning to hold identity in more culturally mature ways.

As with the other new complexities I’ve touched on, these changes do not necessarily make love easier. We reasonably ask why people would choose to take on this even greater challenge. I suspect the reason ties directly to Cultural Maturity’s changes. As Cultural Maturity’s cognitive reordering makes us more open to our own complexities, it also makes us more open to—and fascinated by—complexities in our worlds.

At the very least, being with someone of different temperament means that we will never be bored. And there is a deeper Cultural Maturity—related explanation. It turns out that the kind of complexity that temperament differences reflect is precisely the kind that Cultural Maturity’s cognitive reordering challenges us to get our minds around. In the end, being with someone whose personality style is different from our own makes the relationship not just an ongoing teacher, but a teacher specifically of culturally mature capacities.

To a truly startling degree, people with differing personality styles can seem to live in different worlds. An exercise I’ve often done in workshops I’ve led helps highlight just how great these differences can be. I divide people up by basic personality category and then send same-temperament groups off to different rooms. I then give each group a set of questions to answer, ranging from the playful, such as “What do you like to do for fun?” to the very serious, such as “How would you describe your spiritual/religious beliefs” or “What things in life most frighten you?” Groups discuss their answers together. Eventually they return to the main room, and each group shares what it came up with.

My favorite question gets right to the crux of relationship: “How do you know if someone loves you?” One reason I like the love question so much is that the responses given by different groups are often so different. Inevitably, jaws drop. The answers can seem almost opposite. (I’ll share a few in a bit.) People are left wondering how it could ever be possible for people of different temperaments to succeed at love.

Given such extreme differences, it might seem puzzling that historically we have largely failed to recognize them. And I’m referring here not just to the average person, but also to people whose effectiveness and contribution would seem to depend on a keen ear for such distinctions, such as teachers and psychologists. I suspect the reason is the same one that makes Whole-Person identity and relationship, and also developmental processes in any deep sense, only now understandable. Appreciating personality style differences, at least with the nuance CST suggests is needed, requires Cultural Maturity’s cognitive reordering.

Any kind of temperament framework can be used to begin teasing apart such differences, but CST’s approach proves particularly powerful for getting at this depth of difference. The reason is that it engages temperament with the same kind of systemic reach that I drew on earlier in using the language of gender archetype and with teasing apart cultural stages. It draws on the whole of intelligence and applies it in an integrated way.

Let’s take a briefest of looks at the basic distinctions made by the Creative Systems Personality Typology (CSPT). The typology has a book of its own and an extensive website, if you have further curiosity.² Here, our interest lies with getting a basic sense for how an appreciation of temperament differences might support today’s needed more complex and nuanced understanding of identity and love. The CSPT uses the same language I applied earlier in speaking of developmental stages.³ Because we see Pre-Axis patterns primarily with psychopathology, I’ll begin here with Early-Axis patterns.

Early-Axis patterns reflect a special connection with the inspiration stage of formative process, that period when the buds of new creation first make their way into the light of consciousness and the world of the manifest. Earlies often become artists, poets, or musicians; choose to in some way work with young children; or end up making innovative contributions in the sciences or technology. Think Albert Einstein, Georgia O’Keefe, Leonardo da Vinci, or Anais Nin.

Middle-Axis patterns correspond to the “perspiration” stage in formative process, that period in which new creation struggles into crude, but now solid, manifestation. Middles do much of the hands-on work of society. They might become teachers, ministers, managers, firefighters, physicians, or political leaders. Think Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, Albert Schweitzer, or Margaret Thatcher.

Late-Axis patterns correspond to the “finishing and polishing” stage in formative process. This can manifest more in a focus on the rational or in giving greatest attention to the more surface aspects of the aesthetic. Lates often become professors, lawyers, or business executives. They may also take roles in the media or the fine arts. Think Barbara Walters, Carl Sagan, Barack Obama, or Martha Graham.

CST goes on to identify both Upper and Lower, and Inner and Outer expressions of each of these basic personality constellations. These polar aspects draw most strongly on the more archetypally masculine and archetypally feminine aspects of the vertical and horizontal that I touched on in Chapter Two. With my description of Late-Axis patterns, you might have wondered at the juxtaposition of professors and business executives with people in the fine arts. It is with Late-Axis dynamics that we see the greatest distance between poles. Professors and business executives tend to be Late/Uppers; people who pursue the fine arts, and in particular the performing arts, tend to be Late/Lowers.

Besides giving a feel for just how deeply we can be different from one another, this bare-boned look at CST’s framework also supports important theoretical insights. For example, it helps fill out my earlier claim that, depending on temperament, men can embody more of the archetypally feminine than women, and women can similarly embody more of the archetypally masculine.

Generally speaking, the progression from Early-Axis to Late-Axis takes us from temperaments where the archetypally feminine plays the larger role to temperaments where the archetypally masculine predominates. An Early/Inner man (say someone who is a visual artist) or even more an Early/Lower/Inner man (perhaps a teacher of young children) will embody the archetypally feminine more deeply than the larger portion of Late-Axis women. And a Late/Outer woman (say a television news anchor) or even more a Late/Upper/Outer woman (say a Wall Street broker) is going to embody more of the archetypally masculine than the much larger portion of Early-Axis men.⁴

Returning to my question of “How do you know if someone loves you?” highlights the depth of the differences we find with temperament realities. It also further confirms how much of a stretch choosing to be with someone from a different temperament world can be. The answers given by Lates tend to parallel popular media expectations. (Most people in the media are Lates.) They know their partner loves them when they hear words of endearment, when they receive gifts like flowers or jewelry, and when their partner makes an effort to “look good.”

Middles tend to give quite different answers, though because Middles too are affected by media expectations it can take some reflection for them to recognize what they really find most important. Middles tend to value gestures that communicate constancy and evoke a sense of home and family. They want to know that the other person is solidly there for them. That may be simply remembering a birthday. Or it may not be a gesture at all, nor anything that requires words. It may be simply the fact of being there, of being always present in a way a person can count on.

Answers commonly given by Earlies can seem almost the opposite of love to Lates and Middles. Earlies often express that they most know another person loves them when their private time is honored and respected. This perhaps mysterious-seeming answer begins to make sense with an understanding of what such honoring signals to the Early. It communicates respect for the creativity that happens in that private time, and with this, that what most matters to the Early is safe in the other’s presence. Earlies also often answer that shared laughter is what most deeply tells them they are cared about.

Different kinds of metaphors can work best for highlighting temperament differences with men and with women. For example, car choices make a remarkably good way to tease apart personality differences in men. Lates are most likely to drive cars from luxury brands like Mercedes, Audi, Lexus, or Porsche. Middles tend to own more practical and less showy vehicles such as Chevrolets or Toyotas. They are also most likely to be found driving trucks or minivans. Earlies like vehicles that can get them out in nature (say a Subaru). They also often own old sports cars or cars that one might describe as quirky. If you see a guy driving an old Volkswagen bus, it is almost surely an Early (and even more surely if it is artistically painted or adorned with glued-on plastic ornaments). Cars tend to be much less helpful with women.

A kind of question that I would never have thought of came up spontaneously in a workshop I led some years back. Besides being more particular to women and enjoyably provocative, it was striking because the answers that people with different temperaments gave clearly surprised the people who gave them as much as anyone. It provides good illustration of the deeply unconscious levels at which personality style differences have their origins.

One of the Late/Lower women, while talking about something wholly unrelated, mentioned offhandedly that she budgeted $100 each month for lingerie. The room went silent. A bit defensively, she turned to the other Late-Axis woman in the group and asked, “Well isn’t that about right?” and got an affirming response. Again there was silence. The Middles in particular appeared uncomfortable, as they knew what question was likely to come next. One Middle-Axis woman finally said “OK, I’ll answer. We Middles prefer basic cotton. Nothing fancy, and certainly nothing expensive.” There was then an even longer pause. Before any of the Earlies responded, one of the Middles quipped, “I don’t want to know.” The Earlies confirmed that what she was likely imagining was correct. Any time it was an option to do without such attire, that would be best.

This was decades ago, so I’m sure answers would be somewhat different today. Certainly $100 would not begin to suffice for the Lates. But the incident, famous among people who work with CST as the “lingerie conversation,” is often referenced to illustrate the depth at which temperament differences work. We tried doing a related comparison with the men around briefs, boxers, and the like, but it didn’t help much with making distinctions, nor did it evoke nearly as much interest.

Let me share some stories. Each helps illustrate how easily communication can go awry when people with different personality styles decide to share their lives. Each also illustrates a somewhat different way people can respond upon realizing the extent of their differences.

The first concerns an incident from early on in the marriage of two close friends and colleagues. He is very much the Middle—a solid, down-to-earth engineer. She is an Early-Axis teacher—more creative, less predictable. They got married fairly late in life. She had three young sons from a previous marriage.

The incident came with their first anniversary. As a present, he bought her a ten-slice toaster. To him, the toaster symbolized how deeply he was there not just for her, but also for the boys. It was a symbol of them together as a family. He felt that he had purchased the perfect gift.

Unfortunately, her response was to feel confused and a bit insulted. As an Early, the present made no sense to her. It said nothing about her as a creative person. And while being romanced was not a great priority for her, it seemed not romantic at all. On seeing her hurt feelings, his feelings ended up just as hurt.

They had an advantage in dealing with the situation, because they were each familiar with personality style differences. Indeed, they first met in one of my classes. They now laugh together about how completely what was meant as a caring gesture failed. I often share the story at personality style workshops as an example of how wholly communication can fail to connect even with the best of intentions.

The second story comes from a couple who I worked with a few years back in therapy. He is a Late/Upper executive at a local television station. She is a Middle/Inner social worker. Their connection was good for the first couple of years of their marriage. They shared a love of travel, traveled well together, and did it often. They came to see me because somehow things had stopped working as they had, at least for her.

In our first session together, she described feeling that he had stopped making the effort to really connect. These feelings confused him. He described doing everything he could think of to make his caring clear. He went out of his way to verbally express his affection, he bought her gifts, he took care with his appearance. He asked her what more he could possibly do.

She took time to reflect before she responded. She described wanting more quiet time together. And she wanted them to do a better job of simply listening to one another. She also wanted him to be more appreciative of her work and all it required of her.

He promised to try to do better. But he also expressed that he wasn’t sure he knew how to do the things she was asking of him. After a pause, they then both smiled in recognition. They had realized at once how little of what she was asking for had to do with “trying” or “doing,” In fact, what she was asking for was really almost the opposite. She was wanting more listening, more receptivity … more “not doing.”

The ensuing sessions were enlightening for both of them. Talking more explicitly about how their personality styles were different helped each of them begin to better communicate their caring—and be caring in ways that would better work for each of them. As important, appreciating those differences helped them be humble to the fact that neither of them could ever understand the other person’s needs as well as they might like. At one point, he admitted that even though he now better understood what she needed, he didn’t think he would ever be very good at it.

This admission was significant not just because of its honesty, but also because it forced her to similarly confront herself. In a related way, she often failed to recognize needs in him that were just as important. Accepting that these limitations were part of the price they would need to pay for the ways in which their differences added to their life together helped them find ways to have their relationship not just again grow closer, but also deepen.

I include a third example because it illustrates how an appreciation of personality style differences can just as easily produce results that we might think of as less positive. It again comes from work with a couple in therapy. He is an Early-Axis jazz musician. She is a Late/Lower owner of an art gallery. They had been initially attracted to each other by their shared interest in the arts.

Earlies and Late/Lowers tend to be the two personalities most drawn to artistic expression. But at the same time—often to the surprise of people with these temperaments who decide to become partners— Earlies and Late/Lowers in important ways almost couldn’t be more different. Those differences came to a head when this couple began to talk about marriage—or rather, when she began to talk about marriage.

At first he went along, and she began to do the planning—indeed, elaborate planning. Then at one point it became clear that he was dragging his feet. She found this confusing, because they clearly cared about one another. In fact, he found it confusing too. But he had to admit that he was feeling reluctance.

With this recognition, cracks began to form in what had been a good relationship for both of them. Her initial response was to accuse him of being afraid of commitment and to suggest that he see a therapist.

She pretty quickly recognized that her response was not helpful, but neither of them had a good way to make sense of what was happening or a clue what to do about it. Eventually they decided to see a therapist together, which is where I came into the picture.

Just how deeply their temperament differences were playing a role in the confusion quickly became apparent as we worked together. Their shared appreciation for the arts had led them to miss how fundamental their differences were. The topic of marriage had begun to put those differences in relief. We talked at length about these differences and how they might be predicted given their personality styles.

With this deeper understanding of their differences, what they were experiencing began to make more sense. She had assumed that his reaction toward her had come either from a lack of caring or from a fear of really being close. But, in fact, his response had had an almost opposite source.

In one session, he shared that he loved her deeply and would be happy to live the rest of his life with her. He offered that in fact he was quite open to getting married—in time—though he did recognize that this was less important to him than to her. But he also shared how all her talk about the wedding—the church, the flowers, all the planning—rather than having him feel loved, had had him feeling left out and not seen. What mattered to him was the feelings that had grown between them. He described beginning to feel like an object, and an object she didn’t really see.

Recognizing these differences in what marriage signified started a deeper conversation between them about differences. In particular, they looked at choices they would need to make if they decided to live their lives together. In doing so, they recognized that often their needs might take them in markedly different directions.

In therapy, we talked about how it was rarely the case that one of the directions they described was right or wrong—each had integrity. We also talked about how this depth of difference was perfectly compatible with a fulfilling long-term bond if each person understood and accepted it. But they had to admit that the differences were stark, more so than either of them had previously realized.

A lot of soul searching followed. Eventually they concluded that precisely because they cared deeply about one another, attempting to create a life together was not the best choice. This conclusion made each of them sad. They shared mutual tears of grief. But I think they each recognized that they were making the most loving decision.

An understanding of temperament differences adds further nuance to previous observations about violence and its more archetypally masculine and feminine manifestations. Archetypally masculine and archetypally feminine violence take different forms depending on the personality axis from which they emanate. I will keep to the briefest of observations, and again, for the sake of simplicity, limit them to dynamics that manifest more vertically.

The progression for Upper Pole violence should make sense from previous descriptions. With Late-Axis, Upper Pole violence (the vertical expression of archetypally masculine violence), simple competitiveness becomes viciousness. With Middle-Axis, Upper Pole violence, order is used to diminish rather than empower. With Early-Axis, Upper Pole violence, the capacity to inspire becomes instead a kind of seductive charisma.

We see a complementary progression for Lower Pole violence (the vertical expression of archetypally feminine violence). Late-Axis, Lower Pole violence manifests as sexual or emotional manipulation. Middle-Axis, Lower Pole violence more specifically undermines and obstructs (like its complement, it is about control, but here control from below). Early-Axis Lower Pole violence does harm by merging or suffocating.

Again these are broad generalities. But even these simple observations can help us protect ourselves from harm and also better avoid inflicting harm. They would help us at any time, but as relationships of all sorts—not just love relationships, but friendships and also business relationship—more and more often bring together people with a diversity of personality styles, such insights take on even greater importance.

3 A unique contribution of CST is that it links more development/changerelated observations (what it calls Patterning in Time) and observations that relate to more here-and-now differences such as temperament (what it calls Patterning in Space). The theory proposes that in each case the systemic relationships are creatively ordered.

4 This book probably could not have been written by anyone but an Early (or if had been, it certainly it would have been written very differently). Being an Early—and an Early with a lot of Lower Pole—for a man I have particularly ready access to archetypally feminine sensibilities. It is also not surprising that I would have an interest in big-picture pattern, and in particular such pattern as it applies to the future. Earlies tend to find particular fascination in discovering interconnections and recognizing possibilities.