There is a very beautiful little series over on Kwakersaur dealing with non-violent communication.
I especially appreciate Kwake's take on the subject because he is someone who I feel deeply knows the struggle to find a way of living, loving and communicating in a world that is so hurtful and so easy to hurt.
How do you go beyond "If you don't have nothing nice to say, don't say nothing at all" when the frayed emotions of everyone involved can really can endure nothing at all? In his current post, Kwake points out that there is always a moment of choice before we react emotionally, even to stimuli we have been deeply trained to react to.
The hard part is catching that split second before you switch to auto-pilot. This interstice is especially tiny when dealing with especially ingrained reaction patterns. All of my friends relate the same story of how they regress when they visit home for more than a day or two. Suddenly they become the sullen 12 year old they left behind with their twinbed, and are vulnerable to having all of their most obvious buttons pushed. Then, after the inevitable doorslamming moment, they lean their head against the wall and think "Oh my god, I'm still falling for that, after all this time?"
I am trying to get home to visit my family for the first time since Christmas. Since Christmas, my relationship with my mom has grown and matured more than at any time in memory, and I am very hopeful that the visit can be peaceful and a blessing for all of us. I do know that no matter what inner peace I may have scraped together, and no matter what advances we have made in communication, there will be buttons pushed.
Over e-mail, it's been easier to engage the "close your eyes and count to ten" strategy before responding to the hotspot. I think, until enlightenment, we never really let anything go for good, and all the visceral little resentments and sore spots remain hidden, waiting to spring out at the worst possible moment. With skill, grace, good humour and good luck, you can forestall these things one instance at a time, about half of the time. I'm sorry to say that it sometimes seems like my power to do so if more affected by the circumstances than by my own virtue. Did I eat a good breakfast? Is the sun shining? Is it payday? Did I just jam my hand in the car door? Aside from somehow finding the magic combination of circumstances that will facilitate a loving response every time, what other factors can you control?
Sometimes someone will say or do or write something that brings the gall into my throat, and even if I manage to catch that split-second of choice, I realize that I am going to have to slay at least ten dragons before I can come out with a loving response. If I give myself the time to do that, I can usually manage it. If the situation is especially fraught, sometimes that dragon-slaying time seems like a luxury I can't afford. I think this is may be the crucial error I make when in conflict. There is always time for a few deep breaths. Until the loving response becomes as instinctual as the emotional one, it is important to be honest enough with yourself that you need this. The times I have gone home, pridefully imagining that the loving response will be automatic, I've been painfully taught otherwise.
I would love to hear other people's experience with this, as I gird up to go home. Especially, how do you foster an attitude of loving silence in the face of attack without appearing sullen or hostile?
(Really, though this is a concern, I am dying to go home and hug and kiss all my little brothers and sisters, who I miss so much, and I really just can't wait to see that blessed baby!)
Of The Best Stuff, but Cracked
8 comments:
Thanks for that impressive comment, Mike.
I do believe that true spirituality is other-centred. What I've discovered, somewhat to my dismay, is that my ability to be other centred is based on...well, my ability to be other centred. Until I myself am fundamentally changed by grace and by personal examination and discipline, my ability to relate to others in a loving and selfless way will indeed be at the mercy of seemingly arbitrary social and genetic factors.
In fact, that may be the sum of my belief - that there is a Something which can free me from these bonds, and take me out of my own personal social construct and personal biases and personal observations, and out of the prison of my Ego-Viewed picture of the world.
I am only as sane, rational, and functioning as the make-up of my personality wedded to my history thus far, until I find a Way Out. For me, religion, and all the attending rigamarole are aimed towards this Way Out, and then onto and into a way of recieving and reacting to the world that is informed by my share in God's view of it all.
Thanks for the reminder that in the end, we are simply called to love one another, and that any work we do on ourselves is only to help us do that better.
I'm glad you mentioned breakfast as one of the situational elements in your own ability live nonviolently. I ahve noticed the same thing in myself.
I wonder how Gandhi managed it on all those fasts.
Amanda, you write:
I would love to hear other people's experience with this, as I gird up to go home. Especially, how do you foster an attitude of loving silence in the face of attack without appearing sullen or hostile?
Having come off of one of those visits with my mother and father, wow, do I have a lot to say! (Actually, leave my father out of it. He's so conflict-avoidant, he'd be a doormat's doormat.)
Here are some facts, to set the stage: I'm 42. My mother is 71. I've been coaching my mother for nearly 15 years, with some success, on how to listen more effectively, rather than jump to conclusions.
My mother finds authority in information, teachers, and experts. I find authority in experience and in the leadings of the Spirit.
The bitter, argumentative relationship between my mother and her own mother, now 99, is the prime negative role model I have, exemplifying the type of communication I wish not to have with my own mother.
Here's what has helped over the years:
1. At the first opportunity, create a time for everyone to talk about expectations for the visit: how much time to spend together, how much time to spend apart; what everyone most wants to see or do; and what the consequences will be if someone (my mother, in my case) loses her or his temper or acts inappropriately.
Examples for me have been: "I want to go to the arboretum; I want to have quiet time on my own or just with my partner; and if Mom says something I feel is highly inappropriate, I will leave the room." This most recent trip, with as much love as I could muster, I said to my mother, "Mom: please stop talking now!"
Sometimes for me, staying silent is not as loving a response as setting a firm limit, in order to safeguard a sense of emotional or spiritual safety....
2. Each morning of the visit, have a check-in to see what people are up for. Maybe plans have to be changed because of the weather, or because of tension that arose from that uncomfortable conversation the night before, or Just Because.
3. Prepare your "exits" before the visit gets underway if things get out of hand: how would you excuse yourself from the conversation, from the room, from the neighborhood? Where would you go, and how would you reconnect? Do you have a support system you can lean on, by phone or email or drop-in visit, if that is deemed necessary?
...During last weekend's visit by my parents, I forgot about item #1 above, and so I think that set up the Disaster that occurred on the last day of the visit. My mom said something totally unexpected which stunned me and hurt me terribly, and after that, it was catch-as-catch-can since there was no agreed-upon plan as to what the consequences for such horrible remarks...
Loving the most difficult of people sometimes means setting an extraordinary boundary, saying No, saying "What you just said is not okay"; it can mean walking away or using active listening skills to be certain you've heard things clearly.
In my case, being loving at that particularly difficult moment in time meant pulling the car over to the curb, asking some specific questions, and ultimately cancelling dinner plans so my folks could take a cab back to their hotel. Yes, really.
Anyway, do be gentle with yourself, whether you feel 12 or 22 or 42. And let us know how the Spirit journeys with you during your visit.
Blessings,
Liz, The Good Raised Up
Thank you so much Liz, for your clear and detailed comment.
My visit will be both simplified and complicated by the fact that there won't be any activities planned. I'll just be in the house, with the family, 24/7. I don't drive and there is nowhere to walk to. My dad works from home and it's summer vacation, so we'll all be in the house, all day. I think the absence of alone time to center and recharge. is and has always been the biggest challenge. With so many children, and with them all wanting my attention exclusively, it is pretty much impossible to ever be alone. As a child and teenage I would hide in the woods and climb a tree to get a few minutes peace. I'll have to look into the possibility of that for this time. :)
You advice has been very helpful in that I've realized that if I state upfront that I'll need to take an hour a day to be silent, they will probably respect that. I won't have an exit strategy, but I will have access to e-mail and phone and can bolt myself in the bathroom for 5 minutes if need be. :)
Hopefully it won't need be! I'm sorry things were so stressful with you and your family. It's such a long process...
Amanda,
The good news (only from my experience, mind you), is that as the years pass, you will have more long stretches of peace when visiting your family, before things start to wear thin and your temper starts to flare. Those childhood buttons can build up callouses over time. The hair trigger response goes away. But it does take a deliberate surrender to God. Ask to have outrage and resentment removed. Keep asking. Ask for patience. When all else fails, imagine that the family member you are sparring with has only twelve months left to live. Love them accordingly. It's easier, in some ways, when you live far from home, because these visits and intense interactions have a beginning and an end, and after that, your life in New York will resume its normal contours, whatever those are. I know I can't change my mother at this point. But she put up with an awful lot of shit from me over the years, and so I really figure I owe her. That helps, too, to remember the indebtedness that always exists, on a biological level, if on no other, between parent and child.
In other words, on visits home, I try to be better than I actually am. And I ask for God's help in doing it. And it works, a little...
Cynthia
Thanks for your comments and support, Amanda. I also want to add that I appreciate Cynthia's words, and it is something I come back to:
How would I feel about my interaction with my mother (or grandmother), if that was to be the last time I'd see her or speak to her before she died?
Answering that question inwardly helps me in keeping my intention of showing care, even if I must set a limit or assert myself in a difficult situation.
I also like your very practical idea, Amanda, about using the bathroom as your "exit." Maybe you could stow a Faith & Practice or other inspirational pamphlets there ahead of time, just in case. smile
Blessings,
Liz, The Good Raised Up
Good blog entry about nonviolent communication. It's so easy to lose sight of how violent or destructive our words can be. Thanks!
You can just bet I've had my share of that going home sullenness; I suffered from it through most of the remaining years of my father's life, and now my oldest son (45) exhibts the same traits (and I was so hopeful he had outgrown it).
It means we have remaining issues to resolve; I don't know exactly what, but I certainly realized that if I had my 'HS' on throughout his visits, it would be no problem.
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