What does the implying imply?

Note: Everything I have written here is the fruit of many years of study and repeated readings of Gendlin’s book A Process Model. Nevertheless, what is written here arises from my own learning and understanding, and does not necessarily express additional layers in Gendlin’s writing. This text is intended to make complex and innovative ideas more accessible and to support their understanding, but it does not replace reading Gendlin’s book in the original.

What is the meaning of the question: “What does the implying imply?”
It “implies,” asks, hints, strives for something… something that is not yet here. Something that has not yet happened. But when the implying “implies,” does it imply a specific thing? Is there an image or a representation of what it is striving for? There are very specific and non-obvious relations between the implying and what will occur—the occurring (which will satisfy the implying’s hunger). This post deals with those particular relations between implying and occurring.

The hungry implying

Here is an example for a hungry implying: I act from my implying, and nothing happens (occurring) that carries it forward. For example, I try to write a text, revise it again and again, and it does not satisfy me; I feel it is not good enough. I have no inspiration. I keep trying repeatedly. It doesn’t work for me today. Yet there is an implying for a good, precise, brilliant text. I try again… the text I create does not carry me forward, yet.

Another example: I publish a post on Facebook. I worked hard on it; I’m excited about it. I expect people to respond. There is an implying for responses and reactions from people. But what appears is only a few scattered reactions. I feel an obsessive urge to check if there is anything new. But what occurs is—too little, disappointing.

False hunger – emotional hunger

The implying that is not satisfied, not carried forward, is still “hungry.” Sometimes the “hunger” for something misleads us. When it is hard for us to be carried forward in the space of writing, for example, we often experience this as hunger in the physiological space. We turn to the refrigerator and find something that we hope will carry us forward.

Our real implying, which is not actually physical hunger, consistently asks for something that will carry it forward. It is not carried forward by chocolate, or a pickle, cake, or yogurt. We have eaten them all, and we remain hungry for… The original implying (for writing a good text) remains unchanged.

What can change the implying?

The implying will change only when what is relevant to it occurs and carries it forward —writing a certain, precise text that carries it forward, or certain movement around the Facebook post.

If in the end there is no movement around the Facebook post, the implying will remain unchanged. Perhaps I may write another post that will carry forward. Perhaps I may realize that the post I wrote had an impact on people who did not respond at all, but contacted me in another way, which carried me forward.

When the implying is carried forward, it changes.

But how does it “know” when it is carried forward?

An implying that knows

Following the previous post about “Time Develops from the Life Process,” let us recall a few ideas:

Implying and occurring (hunger and eating) are not simply found one after the other, like stones along a path or discrete events on a timeline. They are connected by a special relation: when we are thirsty, we strive/want/expect to be quenched. Thirst and quenching are bound together by meaning. When we are thirsty, drinking is meaningful to us. When we are tired, we long for rest. In boredom, our body strives for something that has interest to it.

Occurring occurs into implying. For example, a sandwich occurs into hunger.

What is the relation between hunger (implying) and the sandwich (occurring)? The sandwich that appears (occurring) is not identical with the implying. The sandwich that satisfied my hunger is not identical with “what the hunger implied.” Hunger is a rich and broad experience that asks for (…)—there are many possibilities for being satisfied.

The term implying lies at the foundation of Gendlin’s philosophy and the book A Process Model. In this post we will deepen the term in its complexity and uniqueness.

The special relation between implying and occurring

Implying is never just equal to occurring. Therefore implying is not an occurring that has “not yet” occurred. It is not an occurring in a different position on a time line.

Continuing the previous point above—the relation between hunger and the sandwich—the sandwich that satisfied my hunger is not identical with “what the hunger wanted.” That is, hunger (implying) is not identical with what eventually appeared (occurring)—the sandwich. Hunger is not the sandwich that has not yet appeared. In other words, it is not that hunger comes and then a sandwich arrives, and both are objects of the same kind. Hunger is much more complex, and there is a space of possibilities that can carry it forward. The sandwich is only one manifestation.

So what, after all, is the relation between implying and occurring?

The sandwich generates a change—it occurs into the hunger and can carry it forward and change it. It can turn it into something else—satiety.

The implying strives to change

Implying implies a change in implying. It implies its own change.

The implying strives to change! It strives for a change of itself. Hunger strives to change; it does not strive for a sandwich. Hunger does not care what will change it—only that it will change it. In fact, hunger does not know in advance what will change it. Different things can change it. The sandwich can change it, but one cannot know in advance that it indeed will. Other things can also change it. All that the implying strives for is to change.

It does not strive to change “just like that,” but rather it strives to change in exactly the way it strives to change.

But it is misleading to call it “change” as if it simply implied just anything else. Implying implies something so intricate that only a very special occurring “changes” it as it implies itself changed. Anything else may disrupt the body or leave the implying unchanged—still implying as before.

APM, p.12

Carrying forward

When I write a text, I strive for a text that will be written and will carry me forward. The implying strives to change in the way it wants. When at last a good text is written, I know it is good. I know this is what I wanted. How do I know? Not by external measures. I have a strong inner sense that the text is good—because it carried me forward, because it changed the implying, insisting on something and not knowing exactly what, into what it wanted to be. The implying knows what it wants to become. It wanted to be carried forward and to change. Now I can continue writing, or do something completely different.

A sigh of relief.

And yet again, a new implying…