Archives for posts with tag: conversation

Even more exciting, and much more worthwhile, than The Bottle Cap Challenge! Yep – and we can’t even opt out, not really. It’s The Communication Challenge – the one where any given pair or group of human beings attempts to communicate ideas, across the vast chasm of differences in perspective, filtered through individual experience and assumption-making, using poorly defined terms. lol Oh my.

…It’s not always easy, is it?

Yesterday, my day was literally filled with variations on the theme of challenging communications. It was an interesting assortment.

…Team communications…

…Individual entirely non-work-related social communications…

…Communications overheard in passing by uninvolved-but-now-interested individuals…

…Communication with people who lack emotional intelligence…

…Communication with people far more emotionally intelligent than I am…

…Communication with people who have a clear – but also hidden – personal agenda at stake…

…Direct communication…

…Misleading communication…

…Necessary and also delicate communication…

…Frank communication that was “long overdue”…

…Heartfelt warm communication…

…Tense, purposeful, communication in which I, myself, had a clear (and also frustrated) agenda…

…Dispassionate routine communication of factual details…

…Passionate communication of concerns…

…Communication advocating a position…

In some cases, some of those were a single conversation, others were common occurrences in several conversations; there are so many opportunities to communicate, in a single day. Some conversations were easy, comfortable, helpful, or merry. Other conversations felt like work – real effort was involved in “getting an idea across” or in truly listening with my whole attention to ideas I felt disinclined towards, to the point of being reluctant to hear the speaker out. It was a very interesting assortment of moments.

I arrived home, tired, at the end of what felt like a long day (because it was), and definitely ready to stop communicating. LOL

…I’m sure I learned something. I know that during my struggle to relax at the end of the day, fighting off a surge in anxiety that was making sleep difficult to come by, I was pretty certain that mastering my greatest communication challenges would have a lot to offer in the way of reduced stress, because damn, I was definitely stressed out. I sip my coffee and think about that.

I think over the communication challenges in which one or more parties to the conversation showed signs of stress, or frustration; how can I do better? Create a less stressful experience? Listen with greater care? Be more patient? Define my terms more clearly? Slow down enough to avoid being provoked? All of these seem like excellent steps. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I contemplate the very nature of “being provoked” in conversation, and wonder… to what end? I definitely have some room to grow here. You, too, probably. 🙂 Everyone.

…I promise myself another reread of The Four Agreements. I consider, with some amusement, that none of the books on my reading list are specifically on the topic of effective communication, most especially considering how much of it I need to do, day-to-day. lol I think about how little real coaching, encouragement, mentoring, or development, we provide each other as human beings… Where did we get this notion that so many things in life will just sort of “happen” over time? It’s rather strange, is it not? 0_o

I tell myself “the weekend is almost here”, then tease myself for the lie; it’s only Wednesday, and frankly, weekends do not have curative powers. We’ve all still got the lives (and baggage) that we do. The way out is through. 🙂 Another breath. Another exhalation of breath. Another moment. The wheel continues to turn.

I’m not perfect. Still practicing. There is so much to learn – and so much I can do to be more the woman I most want to be. I see daybreak turn the sky from dark – to slightly less dark. I am reminded that seasons do change, and that moments do pass. It’s time to embrace a new one, and begin again. 🙂

Questions are powerful. Asking them often seems more valuable [to me] than insisting on answers. It’s the questions that redirect my attention from one thing to another. Questions fired off one after the other without time to answer quickly find me feeling backed into a corner, or attacked and frustrated. Questions themselves are not to blame for any of that; it’s how they are used, and with what intent. If I am listening, they can also quickly alert me that I am being misunderstood. I am learning to practice deep listening even when I feel emotionally attacked, or unexpectedly cornered by someone else’s aggressively expressed agenda. (I’m not saying I find it easy, but I often find it successful for putting challenging discourse back on a civil, comfortable foundation.) The most interesting thing about practicing listening deeply is that I end up… listening. Hearing more. Understanding more. Feeling more compassionate and level-headed. Feeling empowered and safe. Once I’m in that place, it becomes a simple thing to ask a question. No animus, no aggression, no passive-aggressive tit-for-tat punishment or emotional bullshit; I am able to ask a reasonable, compassionate, interested question that may actually result in needs being met, and a greater shared understanding being reached. It’s the whole point of a question, actually.

Who's 'right'? The ducks or the waiting cat crouched in the grass?

Who’s ‘right’? The ducks or the waiting cat crouched in the grass?

Questions are powerful. My results vary, of course, because sometimes it is the very feeling of power, itself, that has fueled whatever drama of the moment exists between human beings – and some people don’t want to ‘give up their power’, and perceive any power in anyone else’s hands as a direct threat to their own. It’s a weird sort of emotional greed. I don’t know quite what else to think of it. Fearfulness at its core, probably – I’ve been so terrified of being powerless, myself, that a single question directed with insightful compassion directly at the heart of whatever was truly bothering me could cause real rage; being visible and understood wasn’t what I was after, I only wanted to feel powerful (and I was, in that moment, willing to get there at the expense of someone else’s feeling of emotional safety). I find it, now, a very unhealthy approach. Giving up needing to ‘be right’, giving up needing to feel powerful (not the same thing as feeling empowered!) and practicing authenticity, self-acceptance, and awareness are important stepping-stones to being able to listen deeply (practicing, practicing!), and ask questions with more compassion, and without attacking (also requiring practice).

If I feel flooded, how do I find firm footing to maintain a feeling of safety?

If I feel flooded, how do I find firm footing to maintain a feeling of safety?

Based on careful observation, the vast majority of disagreements are not at all what they appear to be, and it seems rare that participants in dialogue have actually taken time to ensure they have shared definitions of terms, respected fact-based ground rules for the discussion – and a shared purpose in asking and answering their questions. Conversation is so much more pleasant and fulfilling when it is built on sincere connection and genuine receptivity to another person’s thinking. I’m not much interested in arguments, they take time away from intimacy, affection, and connecting deeply with ones fellow humans. This journey is too rich for strategic bullshit, cautious diplomacy, and game-playing! There are stories to tell, adventures to share, parables to teach with, and love notes to slip past the rigidity of our work lives – all so much more important than arguments built on strategy, mud-slinging, and bogus assumptions, all seeking to persuade rather than to learn, grow, or inform. Opening the door to something more sometimes takes little more than a question.

Are you okay?

Are you okay? How are you feeling? What do you need that I can provide?

Unfortunately, questions are also handy emotional weapons. What a shame. What a waste of precious mortal time. I am learning to face such attacks with a new tool; I listen. I’ve stopped focusing on delivering an immediate answer ‘to defend myself’; if I feel attacked, defending myself is probably pretty pointless, because there is something more going on. Instead, I remind myself that this other human being made not have been fully frank with their intent, their needs, or the purpose of their question. They may not have a similar understanding of the topic being discussed as I do, myself. I listen. I take a deep breath – or several – and listen. I am learning – and practicing – letting go of that attachment to ‘being right’ that is so often part of this very human experience, and reminding myself not to take this other human being’s experience at all personally. I listen more. I am learning – and practicing – talking less. It turns out that it is not at all painful to listen. It sucks to ‘wait to talk’, however, so learning to listen (practicing!) requires a commitment to some verbs, and considerable beginning again. (I interrupt rather chronically, partially because I have a brain injury that makes it harder not to, and partially because I need more practice not interrupting.) I find it helpful, when listening deeply, to ask a question when it is clear that a response is expected; this can help me avoid hijacking a conversation in progress with my own agenda, when the person speaking actually has more to say. 🙂

Am I understanding your words correctly? Do you mean what I think I heard?

Am I understanding your words correctly? Do you mean what I think I heard?

I’m definitely not saying that my words lack value, or that I don’t also want and need to be heard, just that it seems pretty reasonable that we all feel that way, and there does seem to be a woeful shortage of real listening going on… if no one is really listening, how will anyone at all feel truly heard, truly visible, or truly connected?

Will I find balance between listening, and questions?

Will I find balance between listening, and questions?

I have the evening to myself tonight, according to the calendar. No idea what I’ll do with it. Paint? Read? Play? Maybe take a few quiet moments and really listen to my own questions? Questions are powerful – and I value feeling heard.

When I am on a long road trip, I watch eagerly for the signs alerting drivers of some near by roadside attraction, monument, historical marker, or ‘view point’. I stop for the ones that appeal to me, and stop even for less appealing ones when I am fatigued. It breaks the monotony of driving, which develops over time, even though I enjoy driving. I often see very cool things I’d have otherwise missed, adding to a lifetime of interesting experiences that become part of the person I am. Occasionally, there turns up a peculiar ‘nothing to see here’ moment, when some roadside ‘view point’ turns out to be nothing more interesting than a pull off, and a distant but unremarkable vista. I bring who I am to each of these experiences, and enjoy the potential to walk away more experienced, and thereby more who I am becoming.

Our perspective really matters; it changes what we are able to observe.

Our perspective really matters; it changes what we are able to observe.

I find something interesting in the above paragraph, if viewed as a metaphor; how easily I pull off the road to see something I haven’t seen, or even may have seen, but from a different perspective – and how difficult it can sometimes be in conversation with another to do the same in the moment – to metaphorically ‘pull off on the side of the road, and take a look at something from a different point of view’. I don’t personally place a positive value on ‘being right’, in spite of the cultural emphasis on that characteristic. Vile things are said and done by human beings to other human beings – even loved ones – in the name of ‘being right’. How easily I fail to take time to look at something, someone, through beginner’s eyes, though… and in spite of not being concerned about ‘being right’ on some detail, I can easily find myself defending my position against someone else’s perception of my ‘being wrong’. It’s an easy misstep to make on a journey, and in a relationship; defensiveness is the flip side of needing to be right. I woke this morning with this particular thought in my mental buffer. I wonder what I was dreaming, and if it was the byproduct of my brain working through the details of yesterday?

I had a particularly emotionally challenging conversation with my traveling partner, yesterday. It reached a point where it was profoundly emotional, and I was definitely on the defensive; I had a strong sense I wasn’t being understood. (As it turned out, I was well-understood, but didn’t recognize that, myself, although he courteously said the things he understood would communicate that understanding, I just wasn’t quite ‘getting it’.) If the conversation had developed differently, I would have been very receptive to the information my partner was sharing; somewhere as the conversation developed, however, I found myself assuming I wasn’t being understood, because the information provided to me didn’t address what I said the way I expected it to be addressed…and because of that, I perceived a disagreement that wasn’t in fact present. He offered me new knowledge and a better understanding of the discussion (we were talking about the use of meta-discussion versus discussion of singular now events as methods of shared discussion of needs, and where one or the other is more suitable to growth, change, or harmonious dialogue). I returned the favor with some tears, and frustrated confusion; he was duly frustrated and confused as well, and irked by the tears. I was too. We easily got past it once we both recognized that I had begun to approach the dialogue defensively, and feeling attacked, even though the conversation had begun in the abstract. We took time to comfort each other, to acknowledge missteps, hurt feelings, and to be frankly accountable for our own role there. We returned to the basic points we were each making in the original abstract, and fairly academic discussion, and recognized the value of each – and of each of us to each other as well. Smiles were shared around, and hugs – and bacon. lol. The entire conversation happened in the span of time it takes to cook bacon. That’s real growth for me; there was a time in my life that bullshit might have lingered for days, with me storming around in a childish funk for no real reason. Instead, I enjoyed learning, growth, and connecting with my partner… he still had to endure a few moments of tears from a partner who is to all outward appearances a grown woman who could be expected to be beyond childish tantrums, and needless tears (and clearly isn’t). He did, though, and graciously moved on from the moment without further difficulty.

So much more than meets the eye.

So much more than meets the eye.

Yesterday was lovely. It ended in moonlight and a phone call alerting me that the northern lights were visible… wherever my traveling partner found himself last night. I eagerly stepped outside hoping to see them, myself. Alas, no. A great huge blight on the view of the night (an Intel facility a couple blocks away) reduces the night sky, generally, to inky black, with only a moon to see. It hung in the night, luminous and pale, and I stood in the coolness, in the soft darkness, listening to the distant sounds of traffic, and machinery, and contemplating the dense starry sky from the view of my campsite a couple of weekends ago. I miss that particular night sky, full of stars; it reminded me of the night sky in the desert, although I could only see patches of it through the trees. That too is a beautiful metaphor; there is so much more than we can see. Even in my own experience, some one negative moment can loom so large in my awareness that it blots out the beauty, the delight, a pleasant and unfulfilled now, or the recollection of how wonderful life actually is, generally.  A nice observation to carry around for the future. Useful perspective.

As I write, I hear my traveling partner arrive home from his Saturday night out. It’s not quite dawn. I feel that sense of relief and security that he is safe and near. A hug, a smile, a moment of quiet conversation; all seems well in the world.

A new day beginning. Today is a good day for love, and a good day to treat love well. Today is a good day to practice The Big 5, even on myself. Today is a good day to take care of me, and share smiles generously. Today is a good day to experience life from a perspective of joy and wonder. Today is a good day to change the world.