Introduction Hey everyone. Welcome back to Negotiating Reality. I’m your host, Eric Hekler. It’s been a little while since the last episode of what I now think of as the end of Season 1. That last episode, at least for me, felt like a good closure of what I was trying to do when I first started developing this podcast. While I haven’t been recording, I have been doing, and attuning. I’ve been reading and listening, meditating and contemplating, chatting and exploring — and, perhaps most critically, working toward a sense of settling. I’ve been waiting until I felt like I could settle into a still point — one that would let me attune to the “firehose” of perspectives and experiences I’ve been trying to explore here in Negotiating Reality, and in my life more generally. Waiting for when it feels right, as you might guess, doesn’t work on a timeline. It happens when it happens, and one just needs to have patience, and faith that it will come when it should. And lo and behold, I’m finding myself increasingly in this still point. Though I should say this right now: a still point is not a place you arrive at and stay. It is a practice one cultivates, and continually tunes in and out of. So it’s more like a place I’m learning to return to. And I’m finding my way back to it more and more. A still point about what, you might ask? And you might also be wondering: what the heck do I even mean by a still point? Good questions. Let me try to explain. Over the past several years, I’ve come to realize that I’ve been trying to reach a felt, embodied, practical capacity to live into one key word. Reciprocity. It’s a lovely word. You can hear its shape in the Latin roots — re-, back, and pro-, forward. So the word’s original sense points toward a physical back-and-forth, a rising-and-falling motion, like a wave — or, to reach back to an analogy I used a lot in Season 1, like a breath. And, of course, the most common definition of reciprocity is something like: a process of dynamic exchange oriented toward mutual benefit. I give to you, you give back to me, and we’re both better for it. That definition is true, and it’s a real and healthy facet of reciprocity — it’s the reciprocity of good friendships, good partnerships, fair trades. And, as I’ve been sitting with this word, I keep feeling how much more there is to it. Because reciprocity, as I’ve come to experience it, doesn’t only flow back and forth; it flows through as well. A gift can keep moving — onward, through and across a whole web of relations — nourishing beings the original giver will never meet and never be repaid by. So there’s a ledger kind of reciprocity, real and useful, that wants to come back into balance. And there’s a river kind of reciprocity, which is more like a gift that keeps on flowing. I’m more and more interested in the never-ending-flow type of reciprocity. But notice — that’s still just the word. The signifier. The word carries a lovely poetry that a gifted poet like Robin Wall Kimmerer, or my friend Donna Spruijt-Metz, can do wonders with. And as beautiful as it is as a signifier, the word itself isn’t quite what I’m after. What I’ve been trying to understand, and to learn to live in accordance with, is what the word reciprocity represents. That facet of reality. That’s going to be the focus of Season 2. Why? To cut to the chase: my gut tells me that the more of us who become capable of living reciprocity — with ourselves, with our lineages, and with the other people and living beings coming from lineages different than our own — the more likely it is we’ll find a new way for humanity to live together. When I find the still point — that calm, peaceful, serene, embodied sense of knowing — and I attune from there to what the word reciprocity signifies, I feel a compass. One I can orient by, moment to moment. A compass that helps me live in a way that’s filled with integrity, grace, and gratitude. So… if the word reciprocity is a signifier, the question is: what does it signify? That is what I want to explore in Season 2 of Negotiating Reality. And I want to be upfront about how I plan to explore it. I could define the word — I just did, a moment ago — and if a definition were enough, we’d be good and done. So instead of defining it, I want to invite you to walk around it with me. To borrow a metaphor from the phenomenologists: imagine reciprocity as a die — a little six-sided cube. Here’s the thing about a die. You can never see all six faces at once. From wherever you’re standing, the faces you can see are hiding the ones you can’t. To get the whole of it, you need different situated perspectives, each looking at a different part. That’s pretty much what I want to do — though not around a physical object like a die, but around a living practice. Reciprocity. So I want to look at the living practice that the word reciprocity represents from as many situated perspectives, across as many lineages and cultures, as I can — because I don’t think anyone can see the whole of what this word points to from any one vantage. It’s like standing at that die, only ever seeing the faces turned toward you. For Season 2 of Negotiating Reality, I’m going to take a 360-degree-and-then-some tour, seeking to feel out and live into reciprocity from as many situated perspectives as I can, holding each one with as much integrity as I can manage. Situating my own perspective Doing that requires you to get a bit more of my perspective, because my vantage colors and filters everything I see, and so everything I can offer. I want you to be able to tell when a perspective is more of my own lens, and when it’s a different perspective I’m drawing on to see a different face of the practice of reciprocity. So I’d like to go back to around 2016 — when I think I really started to take seriously what I now think of as a journey around reciprocity. Though, to be clear, I had no idea in 2016 that that’s what I was doing. 2016 was when Donald Trump won his, at the time, surprising victory to become President of the United States. And there’s one small piece of that moment I want to point at, because it turned out to matter more to me than I knew. All the major prediction models — Nate Silver at FiveThirtyEight, Nate Cohn at the New York Times — were pointing to a Clinton win, some more confidently than others. The maps all said one thing. And the territory did another. If that doesn’t make sense to you, don’t worry about it. It’s a theme, though, that will keep coming up as we do our little walk around reciprocity. Returning to the story… around then — about ten years ago now — I was really struggling with how to be a good person. Just to help illustrate this, I remember a friend saying to me once, something like: “You’re such a good person.” And my honest answer was: “No I’m not. I’m someone who commits to trying to be a good person. Whether I actually am one won’t be clear until the moment I die.” So, for me, I didn’t think I had the right to think of myself as a good person, until the moment I die, when the full ledger of my life could be reviewed and judgment could be made. That reaction gives you a glimpse of where my head was. I so badly wanted to do the right thing, and at the same time the task felt basically impossible. It felt overwhelming to live into my responsibilities, especially in a culture that had just elected Donald Trump — someone who, from my vantage at the time, seemed to have this superpower of being completely shameless and completely selfish at the same time. And I’ll be honest: back then, I couldn’t see him with an ounce of compassion. From where I stood he was like a black hole — just pulling more and more into himself, at the direct cost of so many other people, communities, and living beings. And I’ll be even more honest… this is something I’m still deeply grappling with. I’m working toward compassion here, and I am not there. Part of why I’m doing this season is the hope — honestly, the faith — that walking this walk will get me closer. It might not. I truly don’t know. And here’s what makes it so strange. Remember the die? A whole lot of people I know, people who love their kids and mean well, look at the very same man and see a savior — somebody finally fighting for them, a great businessman who gets things done. Other people look and see something like Loki — a dark trickster, the guy who shows up right before Ragnarok. And my own tribe, the behavioral scientists, has a map for it too: the dark triad, or the dark tetrad — somebody who thinks the world revolves around them, somebody who’ll manipulate anyone to get what they want, somebody who doesn’t feel much of anything when they hurt people… and in the newer version, somebody who actually seems to enjoy it. Critically, I’m not a licensed psychologist, nor do I have any direct relationship with him, so I have no business making any sort of diagnosis of him. Even with that said, let’s say the map is right and every one of these dark tetrad traits fit him to a tee; it still wouldn’t tell me the thing I actually needed to know, which is how to be in relation with him, or with the people who see a savior where I see a black hole. A diagnosis is a map. It’s not a way of relating. And a savior, a good businessman, a fighter, a black hole, a trickster, a dark tetrad person — those are all faces of the die. Each one is hiding the others. How can good, well-meaning people look at the same person and see something so radically different? That’s a question I’m going to hold for later in this walk. Returning to 2016 though, for a guy like me who wanted so badly to live with integrity, watching him get elected was a real gut punch… I started to ask this: Why do good people — people who love their