Holding Tension: We’re Going on a Bear Hunt

We're going on a bear hunt.

We're going to catch a big one.

What a beautiful day!

We're not scared.

The opening lines of an endearing children’s book that was read to me as a child. What would possess a family to go looking for a bear? I’m not sure, but it’s catchy. As they run into obstacle after obstacle, they repeat a phrase that’s stayed with me:

We can’t go over it.

We can’t go under it.

Oh no — we’ve got to go through it!

“Oh no” is right. Going through obstacles is brutal when all we want to do is avoid. When it’s not a fallen tree, or a puddle, or some other physical obstacle in our path—but rather a tense conversation we’ve been putting off, a harrowing reality that we haven’t come to terms with, or a decision we’re delaying because the implications feel too great—we’d rather go over or under. We’d rather avoid. Like hunting down a bear, sometimes going towards the threat seems counterintuitive.

As I work with people to help them get unstuck from the conflicts in their work and their lives, there’s a consistent aversion to facing the depth of reality. There can be various factors, but more often than not, people realize that if they come to terms with what’s really going on, then there will be implications that they have to act on. So they continue “fixing” the surface issues—the behavioural symptoms of the problem—while the deeper patterns persist.

This is another example of why it’s necessary to increase our capacity to hold the tension with purpose. If we can’t hold the tension for any period of time, we miss the root causes and end up solving the wrong problems. We want to go over it, we want to go under it, but we have to go through it.

What can this look like?

• Asking a question to discover rather than providing an easy answer

• Allowing extended silence while someone is processing something

• Sitting with discomfort instead of rushing to fix it

Or it can be a more involved process.

To demonstrate to groups the power of Going Up—gaining perspective on a conflict system—I use a method called Blokmapping. Developed by my colleague, it’s a process of collectively placing blocks on a surface in relation to one another, as a way to make what’s implicitly influencing the system explicit. It’s a way to collaboratively articulate what everyone’s feeling and thinking, but nobody’s saying.

I was taking a group through this process around a real issue—the impacts a recent change was having on how this team functions—and we were trying to focus on what wasn’t working. Inevitably, this meant naming the problem areas, the pain points. It wasn’t long before the question came: “Why can’t we focus on the positives?”

The aversion to the tension arose. And the critique kept coming: “Why are we being so negative? Why can’t we highlight the strengths? Why are we being so down?”

The discomfort was felt and the reflex came up (Can we go over it? Under it?)

Their discomfort to the struggle aligns with a broader cultural impulse. Positive psychology, in its early forms, taught us to focus on what makes us thrive—and with good evidence to support this. But it has also given rise to a tricky thing called toxic positivity: the pressure to look on the bright side at the expense of naming real problems. Research has shown that when we encounter a dilemma that we cannot change or easily fix (eg. a broken leg) then this positive reframing is supportive. But when we can change it (eg. toxic work environment) then the positivity prevents us from making a necessary change.

I reminded the group that we were exploring the problem areas for a reason, there was a purpose to the mess—and what that purpose is depends on your aspirations.

For this team, it was to function with greater clarity, synergy and productivity. We wanted things to run smoothly, but this could only come from unearthing what wasn’t working. We had to hold the tension of the discomfort long enough to actually identify the pain points.

Because here’s the thing: you can’t change what you can’t name.

We don’t go through the tension because we enjoy it—we do it for the desirable future on the other side.

As the family ventures to find the bear, they encounter the obstacles—grass, water, mud, forest, snowstorm—and they get pretty messy along the way. The journey through is not the easy route. It’s not clean or linear, or necessarily pleasant, but it can be transformative.

(Unfortunately, this is where the analogy ends—the family does find the bear… and ends up running for their lives.)

Still, the lesson remains: we have to go through it and face the threats we’re feeling to understand what’s truly going on.

What tension are you tempted to go over or under right now?

What might change if you chose to go through it—with purpose?

Staying curious,

Jodi