Why do you care?

I just returned from attending Agile2011. I spent five nights and five days immersed in the community of friends, colleagues, luminaries, associates, strangers, and vendors that comprise the event. As always, it was entertaining, illuminating, exhausting, and heart-warming.

I had conversations about techniques and challenges, career and day-to-day work, my recent job situation, family, friendship, travel, technology, games,… I’m sure you get the picture.

I spent much of my time in the Open Jam, as I was the Producer and felt some responsibility there, and because that’s where I would spend a lot of time anyway because I love to shmooze with people, and because I’m looking for a new job and it was a good place to catch up with people to talk about it. And I did – shmooze, talk about jobs, and fulfill my responsibilities.

I also attended a couple of sessions, and poked my head into a few others.  I delivered my Facilitation Fun! session in the Open Jam Fringe to a small but enthusiastic group. I coordinated the PechaKucha area and presented there one evening.

I wrote a few blog posts while I was there, stimulated by recent events in my career and by the book I’m currently reading.

Mostly, I was immersed in the sense of community that exists at this event. I’ve experienced it at lots of other events, as well, but the Agile20xx events bring a sense of community that is remarkable. There’s a sense of intention, collaboration, and connection that I rarely experience elsewhere.
And then it was Friday. I had two meetings on Friday morning, so was only able to spend a short time in the halls, catching up with a few people with whom I had not yet caught up, and waving and saying goodbye to and hugging a number of others. The event was primarily at the Grand America hotel in Salt Lake City, with some sessions and some lodging across the street in the Little America hotel.  On Friday morning after my last meeting, as I started to leave the Grand America to go across to finish packing and leaving, I hesitated on the threshhold of the Grand America.

“Have I seen the people I wanted to see, and said goodbye properly?”

I looked at my watch, and thought about it for a minute, standing there quietly, looking across the driveway towards the Little America across the street.

Summer Camp Syndrome™.

I found myself feeling drawn back into the venue so I could extend the immersion and the feeling of connectedness and belonging. I was exhausted, had just enough time to finish packing and check out, and still – irrationally – felt myself drawn back in. After all, with 1600+ people attending, and knowing many dozens, perhaps hundreds, of them, it’s obvious that I had not been able to even see, much less talk with, all the folks that I would have liked to connect with.

So there I stood, on the threshold both physically and emotionally, considering the irrational. Should I go back in, make at least one more pass through the halls, maybe feeling rushed for time, or continue on my way and do the rational thing.

It was agony. The banquet the night before was “the climax” of the event, but of course I only saw a relatively small number of people there. I was feeling like I wanted something like the closing circle of an Open Space. Not exactly, but something like it. Some sense of closure and completion was lacking for me.

I did the rational thing, mentally and emotionally and physically leaving the event and the community, and walked across the street to the Little America.

Of course, it’s never that clean and simple. I ran into friends from ThoughtWorks in the lobby of the Little America and stopped to chat. After packing and while on my way out, I ran into friends from Leandog and stopped to chat. Waiting outside to go to the airport were Lyssa Adkins and Michael Spayd, creators of the Agile Coaching Institute. We rode to the airport together, and I continued the connection while walking through the airport and having lunch with Lyssa.

Lyssa and I separated after lunch, me going directly to my gate, which was right there, Lyssa heading off to another terminal for a later flight.

Summer Camp Syndrome™.

There’s a feeling almost like addiction and withdrawal, regarding an event like this. The immersion is so powerful, so emotional, that it’s almost a physical pain to end it – to cut it off. That’s “Summer Camp Syndrome” – the sadness, sorrow, and sense of disconnection that comes at the end of an immersive, community event in which strong connections are formed. The need for continuation and closure, all at the same time, that leaves me (and maybe you) standing at the threshold feeling simultaneously drawn in and out.

There’s no question that I’m very happy to be home with my lovely wife of 35 years, Debbie.

And there’s no question that I’m feeling sad about the people I didn’t see and talk with, the people I did see and talk with but didn’t get to say farewell to, and even the people I spent time with at the end, because that time ended too. I am, as I said, exhausted, but in the best possible way. And I’m eager for next year’s conference, so I can do it all again.

In the meantime, I hope I’ll see some of these folks at other events coming up, like Pablo’s Fiesta, Agile Open Southern California, and Øredev.

I don’t even want to stop writing this post, because it helps me to keep feeling connected.

But I will.

Perhaps it seems obvious that a heart attack could change one’s outlook on life and relationships. Sadly, I’ve met too many people who survived and went right back to doing and being who they were.

As part of my annual celebration, let me share my three lessons once more:

1. Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “I love you” – you might not have a tomorrow, and wouldn’t it be sad not to let people know how you feel about them.
2. Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “I’m sorry” – those words don’t mean that you’re wrong or that you’re apologizing, and they do contribute to someone else’s happiness – what does it cost you to say?
3. Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “thank you” – gratitude, as love, friendship, regret, sympathy, and so many other expressions, is best served up warm.

Thank you, whoever you are, for being a part of my rich and continuing life.

Don’t wait until tomorrow.

And just at that magical moment when Michael reached total peace and balance – just as the recliner was at the perfect angle and his mind was like a still pool – a small voice said “Daddy? Daddy? Will you take me to the store? You promised!”

Oh, my. There was nothing Michael wanted less at that moment than to sit up, get himself in gear, and get in the car to drive his daughter Megan to the store.

Of course he’d promised. But it wasn’t really that important, was it? It wasn’t something that couldn’t wait, was it? And if he just held on, he could regain that place of peace and balance. Just for a few more moments, maybe?

“Can we wait just 15 minutes, honey?”

“Well, umm, okay Daddy. Fifteen minutes. You promise?”

“You betcha, honey! Fifteen minutes.”

By the time that last word was out of his mouth, Michael was back in Nirvana. Ahhhhhhhhh.

In what seemed to Michael to have been just seconds, there was that voice again.

“Daddy? Daddy? It’s been fifteen minutes Daddy. Can we go now?”

Michael struggled. A promise is a promise, after all, and everything we do as parents teaches our children, right? But how often do we, as adults, find that wonderful moment?

Sigh.

Truthfully, Michael was feeling put upon. Of course Megan couldn’t get to the store by herself. But it just wasn’t that important and Michael really wanted to enjoy his stolen moment of peace and she could go any time – it’s not like it really had to be today and now!

Sigh.

Michael straightened his recliner and forced himself up. He went to the bathroom to rinse his face and pull himself together. Somehow he found a smile and a wink for Megan. Off they went to the store.

Of course, Megan being Megan, it didn’t quite turn out to be a direct trip to the first store.

“Daddy?” Megan asked.

“Yes, punkin?” Michael responded with some trepidation.

“You ‘member those school supplies I need? We haven’t gotten them yet. Since we’re already out, can we go by that store too and get my school supplies?”

Sigh.

“Sure, sweetheart. Might as well.”

Somehow, Michael had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be quick.

And then Michael figured that as long as they were out, he might as well stop by the book store and pick up that book he’d been wanting. But before they got there…

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I forgot that Mommy said that we should pick up her prescriptions at the pharmacy while we’re out. Can we please do that too?”

Sigh.

“Sure. I guess we might as well go there first, since the pharmacy closes in a few minutes.”

Of course, that meant going a couple of miles in the other direction. And since it was about 4:30pm, it meant going through rush hour traffic as well.

Sigh.

They made it to the pharmacy before closing time, but had to wait behind three people.

Sigh.

And then they made it to the stationery store, and realized that Michael had most of the supplies that Megan needed at home. If only they’d checked before they left.

Sigh.

And when they got to the store that was their original destination, they found that Megan hadn’t called and they didn’t have what she wanted.

Sigh.

Finally they made it to the book store. Megan got fidgety and squirmy while she waited for Michael and finally asked if she could get a book too.

Sigh.

When all was said and done, they’d been out for almost two hours, much of it spent driving, and driving through rush hour traffic no less! And for almost no result.

Sigh.

When they got home, Megan had a sheepish, slightly unhappy look on her face, and said “Thank you very much, Daddy.” And she gave him a big hug and a big kiss and ran off to play or watch TV or whatever it was she was off to do.

And Michael settled back into his recliner with a sigh.

There are moments when, if we’re lucky, we catch ourselves.

As Michael settled into his favorite chair, he heard himself sigh.

And he realized that Megan had heard every one of his sighs for the past two hours.

Michael realized what the look on Megan’s face and the hug and the kiss were all about. Michael had been blaming Megan for his “hardships” and his sighs were messages to her that he was frustrated and that it was hard work and that he’d rather be napping in his recliner.

That wasn’t the message that Michael wanted to give his daughter. His children were special and important. And there would always be times when they were dependent on him to go somewhere or do something, and those times might not be convenient for him.

Michael went upstairs to Megan’s room. She was working on her homework, having gathered up the school supplies she needed.

Michael sat down on the floor next to Megan, put his arm around her, and said “Thanks for the outing, sweetie! I know I was a little tired and cranky, and that’s not your fault. I had fun.” And he gave her a kiss and he gave her a hug.

And she gave him a smile that made him happy from his toes to his cowlick.

We’re all born selfish. That doesn’t mean we can’t learn to be selfishly giving and rejoice in the happiness of others.

[Perhaps this is not just about parenthood, eh?]

As Michael thought back over the past few days and weeks and months and years, he realized that this situation had been developing slowly but steadily. It scared him to think that the tortoise of discontent and frustration was going to win this race.

Michael loved Joan. He had loved her almost from the first time they met, over twenty-five years before. Of course, they were babies then, and didn’t have babies of their own. And they had all the time in the world. And they both knew how things were supposed to work and that they were going to make them work that way.

Times had sure changed! Michael remembered a time when he and Joan would smile and kiss each other good night every night. They had made a pact, early on, to never go to sleep angry. In the morning, they’d start their day with a hug and… Well, that was then. These days, there seemed to be far too many nights that one or the other went to sleep upset, and far too many mornings begun with a grunted greeting. Michael felt close to despair on some days, longing for the relationship they had once had.

Michael could feel Joan. He knew she was awake, and knew that she was avoiding talking to him. He didn’t know what was bothering her, and was frustrated that she wouldn’t talk to him and wouldn’t let him help. That’s what we do for each other, he thought, isn’t it? Help? But Joan seemed to have shut him out. He didn’t understand, and the whole thing was making him both scared and frustrated. And sometimes angry.

Michael tried not to let it turn into anger, but it just kept building up. He’d never yelled at Joan, nor hit her, nor abused her in any way. He just wanted to figure out what was going on. But nothing he tried worked.

Michael knew he was missing something. He’d try to help when Joan was upset about something, and not only didn’t he seem to be able to help, he seemed to make things worse. Like the time that Joan was all upset about that broken chair. “Just call the credit card company,” he’d said. She looked at him like he was crazy and left the room. That one had taken days to calm down. He still didn’t understand it.

And there was the time that Joan was gone visiting her folks, and he cleaned and reorganized the kitchen cabinets. He was so proud of how logical and clever the arrangement was – pots near the stove, glasses near to hand, cooking utensils arranged near the stove and oven! He thought, all the time he was doing it, how excited and pleased Joan would be when she saw what he’d done.

Then she came home. He was excited, and showed her what he’d done, and explained how logical and efficient it all was. She just stood there with tears running down her cheeks. Why? What was wrong? Why hadn’t she loved it? Didn’t she know that he’d done it for her?

Michael had just about given up. Yes, he still loved Joan. And he thought that she still loved him. But they just didn’t seem to be able to communicate. If he tried to tell her that he disagreed with her, she’d attack him, telling him that he wasn’t perfect and that she was doing her best and somehow she always ended up crying. And she was always making him feel like she didn’t need or want his help.

On this particular Monday, they had a date to visit Grannie. Grannie was not actually related to either of them. They’d both known her most of their adult lives, having met Grannie when they were first dating. She seemed ancient then, and that was twenty-five years ago! If they thought about it, they could remember her real name, but they’d been calling her “Grannie” for so long, well, that was who she was.

Both Michael and Joan were looking forward to seeing Grannie. As difficult as things were for them these days, they particularly enjoyed the time they spent with Grannie. She had such a lovely outlook on life – generally everything was simple and Grannie just listened and seemed to enjoy their company. She mostly didn’t put up with any “nonsense”, and had a habit of exposing the simple truths at the heart of things. Sometimes that could be hard for Michael and Joan, since Grannie didn’t allow them to hide things behind “polite lies” to protect their own feelings.

But on this night, both Michael and Joan were feeling both anticipation and fear. Each knew that Grannie would see through their public faces to what was in their hearts, and they were afraid of hearing her say it out loud. And yet, there was something in each of them that hoped…

Michael and Joan are in love. Everyone that knows them has always known this. But their family and friends saw their difficulties. Being cautious of interfering in someone else’s relationship, and being careful of their own relationships with Michael and Joan, most of their family and friends had been treading carefully. And now?

Now everyone notices that Joan and Michael are acting like they’re in love, again. And when someone asks Joan what’s going on, Joan just says “He likes me!”

And when someone asks Michael what’s going on, he says “She likes me!”

And they smile at each other.

I wrote this around 2002 or 2003. I hadn’t read it for a long time, and just reread it today. I’m reminded that these lessons apply to far more than the marital relationship. It’s valuable to remember that our feelings are our own.

I will say that I loved the movie, and plan to see it again.

It raised some interesting feelings and thoughts for me, which tie into a talk I gave at St. Edwards University Career Symposium on Friday.

I should mention that when I was growing up in New York, I applied to and auditioned for the High School of the Performing Arts, on which the movies have been based.  I didn’t make it.  I didn’t have the talent or skill necessary. Watching the movie led me to wonder what would happened had I gotten in.

There are some great messages in the movie. Jennie’s monologue about success toward the end is a wonderful piece of writing.

What it brought up for me was that many of the things that helped to determine the direction of my life and career have been pretty random.

I moved to San Francisco after college, because that’s where my two best friends settled after driving across the country.  I met my wife, started graduate school, got a crummy job, fell into the computer industry, moved to Silicon Valley, had children, started my martial arts studies, had a heart attack, changed my view of life and the world… and all because my friends ended up in San Francisco.

Professionally, I left that first job at Control Data and went to my first startup in Silicon Valley.  That led me to other startups, my own company, my move to Austin, and ultimately my job at ThoughtWorks.  None of these things could have happened without the others preceding them, and yet it all seems so random.

So here’s the thought for my readers: are there ANY decisions you’ve made in your life that have NOT helped to determine the path of your life? Whether big ones like which school you attend or who you date or marry, or little ones like whether to go to the movies this afternoon.

After all, going to the movies today may shift my perspective on something else, which will influence a decision I’ll make, which will lead me…  well, you get the idea.

Every interaction I have with someone else has the potential to change their life or mine or both. While this is an awful responsibility, it’s also an awesome opportunity.  It shouldn’t freeze me. It SHOULD lead me to think about the things I say and do and how I say and do them.

I had an interesting small example of this when I was at Agile2009.  Walking to dinner with a group of people, most of whom I’d never met either physically or vitrually, I began introducing myself.  There were these two fellows from Finland.  As I introduced myself to the second, he said “Doc?  Doc LIST?”

Who knows what impact things I’ve said have had on him, or could have on him.  The fact that he knew who I am was pretty stunning. Thank goodness he seemed happy to meet me.

Remember my name.
Fame.

I’m gonna live forever
I’m gonna learn how to fly
High

I feel it coming together
People will see me and cry
Fame

I swear I heard a bell go off in my head!

I’ve always said “Everything counts.”  And also “if I’m present, whether I’m active or passive, I have an effect on what happens.”

And then this fictitious characters says “Everything has consequences.” and it all comes together for me.

Everything you do, or don’t do, has consequences.

“Right, Doc. Like if I give my wife a gift, it has consequences?”

Yup. And sometimes unexpected ones. Maybe the gift is too expensive, or not expensive enough.  Maybe you thought she’d love it, but she sees it in a way you’d never think of.  Or maybe she just loves it, and feels warmer towards you for a while.

“Okay. How about if I do nothing?”

There’s no such thing as “nothing.” Being inactive is not nothing. Being silent or withdrawn is most definitely not “nothing.”

As always, since It’s All About Me, whatever you do or don’t do, I will interpret according to my context, my view of the world at that moment. And that’s my reality.

So “nothing” might be angry or hostile or sad or frustrated or… And, as they tell us in Crucial Conversations, I will then proceed to tell myself a story about how you feel, what it means, and how it affects me.  All as a result of you saying and doing… nothing.

I’m not suggesting that you either stop doing anything, or that you do something all the time.

I’m saying that it pays to be aware that Everything has consequences.

How many times have you gotten into the ping-pong game of “Who remembers it right?”

“I know I remember it right because…”

“But I know I remember it right because…”

Unless you have a time machine, and can go back together and record whatever event you’re talking about, it becomes a pointless discussion.

What is really important?  That is, what am I trying to prove beyond that I remember something right?

Not to forget that there’s the solitaire version of the game.  It goes like this:

“I was on my way to work on Tuesday… no, wait, it was Wednesday… no, Tuesday… maybe it was Monday…”

Why do we care? Why is it important that – in telling my story – I get the day of the week right?

Perhaps because I fear that (a) you will catch me in an incorrect statement and, therefore, (b) that will generally downgrade my credibility, and (c) I will have less value in the world.

Am I really being tested and measured and evaluated all the time?

Well, to a certain extent, yes I am.

Okay – and does it matter?

Ah! Hmm… No, I don’t think it does.

Well, sure, it matters that people I live with and work with and deal with believe that I’m an honest person.

But in most cases, these trivialities only get in the way. When I tell you my heart attack story, do you care whether I had my heart attack on a Sunday or a Monday or a Tuesday? Nope. And yet I’m likely to get caught up in getting it right, because I believe that in our culture getting it right is highly valued.

I believe that worrying about getting the minutiae right frequently gets in the way of communicating the larger, more important stuff.

Granted that if I get most of the details wrong, my listener may deprecate everything else I have to say.

So let’s get back to the original question.

I think that when you get into an argument/disagreement about who remembers what correctly, you should ask yourself “what’s really important here?”

“Don’t like” may be as simple as mild distaste or as extreme as despising. It may manifest as a mild discomfort or as actual physical symptoms like trembling or what feels like uncontrollable anger.

So how should I go about handling that? For me, it doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.

What I’m wondering is how you handle it, or suggest handling it.

Hopefully, I’ll get enough comments/responses to make this interesting, and to continue it into another post where I can summarize and think some more.

So how do you handle it?  How do you handle the circumstances where you’re part of a team, and you just don’t like/don’t like to work with one of the other members of the team?

Is it different for an agile team than it is for some other kind of team?

Do you take action? Do you take it to someone else?

Okay – that’s it – no more hints or suggestions from me.  Please share your thoughts.

The reason I put up that story, is that there were some important and lasting lessons for me, from that experience. My hope is that I might spare you the heart attack and get right to the lessons.

Here’s the thing…

As I lay on the gurney in the emergency room, I thought about things.

While I was waiting for Debbie to arrive, I thought about Debbie and our relationship and our communication.

When Debbie showed up, I thought about our life together and our four children.

As they were performing the angiogram, I thought about my employees, colleagues, and students (I was teaching programming at the community college and karate at my instructor’s dojo, at the time).

I came away with three simple lessons. Simple, profoundly simple. And life-changing, at least for me.

The way I remember them is this:

Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “I’m sorry” – apologies are best delivered right away.

Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “I love you” – there’s never a wrong time to express your feelings, other than “later.”

Don’t wait until tomorrow to say “Thank you” – appreciation is best delivered warm.

You may never face death or debilitation. And I hope you don’t.

That doesn’t matter. The lessons are the same.

If you know me, you know that I’m very open about my feelings, quick to express appreciation, and quick to apologize (regardless of “fault” or “blame”).

Because I found a way to live that makes sense for me in every context.

Saying “I’m sorry” doesn’t mean you’re wrong, or that you’ve done something wrong. It does acknowledge that there’s something wrong. That something might be that someone is unhappy, or that things didn’t work out the way you or someone else wanted, or any of a number of things. The thing is, saying “I’m sorry” doesn’t cost anything.

Saying “I love you” or “I like you” or “I’m glad you’re a part of my life” also doesn’t cost anything. Too many people say “he knows how I feel” or “I shouldn’t have to say anything – she can tell from the way I act” or… Well, let’s get real. We don’t know. We like to hear it. I feel good when someone tells me how they feel about me, even if it’s negative, because I can stop wondering and enjoy the situation as it is.

And gratitude… there is no gift so precious, at so little cost, as expressing gratitude or appreciation. It doesn’t take a long-winded speech. It just takes two words – “thank you.”

So let me close in the best way I know how…

I’m sorry if you don’t find this useful (even though I hope you do).

I’m glad that you’re a part of my life (even if I don’t know you).

Thank you for sharing my thoughts, for your comments, and for enriching the world I live in.

Yup, IAAM- and IAAM+ are the two higher order patterns that I’m talking about.

Isn’t it interesting that these apply in our personal relationships and conversations, and in the world of meetings and facilitation?

Not surprising, though, because we’re always people, and always bring our blessings and our baggage with us, wherever we go and whatever we do.

Also not surprising, I expect, is that I believe that recognizing and taking action to change my beliefs and my behavior in one context will carry over into all others. Regardless of whether it’s how I relate to friends and family, how I participate in meetings, how I behave as a manager, or how I behave as an employee, they’re all tied together at one point: me!

Here’s my challenge to you: look at your own behavior, and ask yourself whether it is IAAM- or IAAM+. Are you focusing on the relationship or are you focusing on your own needs and desires? Are you behaving in a way that benefits others, as well as yourself, or just yourself?

This is difficult. I won’t pretend otherwise. Examining my own behavior, questioning my own motives, and exploring the impact on others is hard.

And worthwhile.

No pain, no gain.

“At times the individual members of a group need to express their own points of view. At other times, the same people want to narrow their differences and aim the discussion toward closure. These two sets of processes will be referred to as ‘divergent thinking’ and ‘convergent thinking.’”

Accepting Kaner’s words and work, we would consider this to be a natural occurrence in groups, but only when there is a skilled facilitator or leader present to ensure that divergence turns into convergence. And it is clear that it is essential that divergent thinking make that shift into convergent thinking in order for the group to reach some kind of decision.

A leader will emerge

This reminds me of something I learned in my Master’s Degree work years ago. My professor was Joe Luft, co-creator of the Johari window with Harry Ingham (get it? Joe-Harry => Johari). The Johari window is a model of relationships and communications that has been widely accepted. During a class on group dynamics, Joe made a statement that has stuck with me for thirty years: in any group, regardless of who is nominally in charge, a leader will emerge. That is, while there may be someone there in the group who is given the title or responsibility to be the “leader,” inevitably someone (and it may be that same person), will emerge to guide, direct, lead the group.

Leading or allowing someone else to lead

As a facilitator, you may be expected to be the “leader” and turn divergence into convergence. Or you may be expected to recognize when a member of the group steps up (overtly or simply through behavior) to demonstrate effective leadership, guiding the group from divergence to convergence. This ability to recognize that members of the group are stepping into key roles is an essential skill for a facilitator.

It is not always the facilitator’s responsibility/job to do everything. Sometimes it is the job of the facilitator to sit back and let the group go forward on its own.

So it is with convergence. There comes a point when, as a facilitator – or even as a member of the group – that you recognize that the turn must be made. If it is not happening on its own, then it is up to you to take some action. That action is not standing up and saying “Okay – enough divergent thinking, get on with the convergent thinking!” Rather, you are expected to have the skills to help and guide the group toward convergence.

Tactics that come to mind include:

• “I see that there is some disagreement here. Let’s see what we can do to find some commonality.”
• Sometimes, I suggest that two advocates of opposing views each take on the other’s position and argue it.

Rather than having me try to explain it all to you, I’ll suggest that you read Kaner’s work. There are lots of good diagrams, along with the words.

It got me to thinking about carrying grudges, and the way we label and categorize each other.  Okay – I don’t know for sure that you do it too, I just know that I’ve done it and that your behavior leads me to think you do it too.

You always…

Do you find yourself saying that to someone you know? Do you find yourself behaving in a way that is based on what you expect them to do, rather than what they’re doing?

Perhaps you’ve labeled them. They’re afraid, insecure, rude, lax, mean, silly, absurd, too friendly, not friendly enough, too outgoing, too inhibited, careless, thoughtless, inattentive, self-absorbed,…

How will you know when they change?

If you hold onto the image you hold firmly in mind, you won’t.  Not only that, you will inhibit their ability to change.

If you won’t give me a chance, then who will?

I’ve certainly heard words like that – from my wife, and from my children. Even recently, as I’m on my endless journey towards evolution and perfection.

If I keep an image, an identity, a label in my mind as though that’s who you are, then I may be unable to recognize that you are no longer that person.

Forgiving is not forgetting

I’ve heard too many people say “I can’t forgive that.” I disagree.  You can, you just don’t choose to. You’re holding onto the pain, the anger, the hurt for some reason that seems to make sense. Why? What’s the value in hanging onto it.

Sure – I can learn from sticking my hand in a fire, and yet realize that the fire doesn’t care about me at all. Which is not to say that someone who does something that leads to you feeling hurt doesn’t care about you.  But if you believe, as I do, that their behavior is about them, then it’s possible to forgive, to let go, without letting go of the lesson. You can learn how someone has behaved and base a certain – hmm – caution on that.

But it’s not necessarily who they are.

Let go, let…

In the twelve step programs for families and friends (Al-Anon, Co-Anon, Nar-Anon), they teach “Let go, let God”.

Since I don’t know whether there is or is not a sublime, omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient entity, here’s what it means to me:

It’s done. It’s not within the scope of my control. Perhaps I’ll be happier, or at least have more peace, if I just let it go and worry about me.

I’m responsible for me, for my behavior. Beyond that, I do the best I can for my family. Outside of that?

You’re up to you.

Let it go.

The challenge for most of us is that when we feel vulnerable, we also feel the need to protect ourselves – to be defensive.

Defensiveness can take on a number of different aspects: classic defensiveness (explaining, justifying), counterattacking, withdrawal, redirecting. Sadly, none of these is effective when it comes to having an effective discussion and maintaining a healthy relationship.

There are two sides to dealing with vulnerability: our own, and others’.

In dealing with my own vulnerability, I have to decide whether I think it is good to expose and accept my vulnerability or not.  After all, we are all truly vulnerable. Whether it’s in work (someone else has control over my fate), romantic relationships (if I reveal my feelings, what if the other person doesn’t reciprocate), family relationships, or elsewhere, we’re always vulnerable.

I suspect that you know some of the same kinds of people I do, those who choose to try never to reveal vulnerability. These are the people who are depriving themselves of the richness and joy (along with some of the pain and sorrow) of fully explored relationships. You know them. You might say “he always seems to have a shell, a barrier” or “no one ever seems to really get to know her”.

I’m mostly at the other end of the spectrum. My barriers are – at best – permeable, where they exist at all.  I’d rather be vulnerable – and honest – than worry about hiding things and protecting myself. I believe that by being willing to share who I really am, I gain a tremendous amount from the community in which I move.

Being vulnerable is frightening. Really. Revealing your inner self, your real feelings, your flaws and foibles – this puts you at risk of having someone use that knowledge to their advantage and to your detriment, right?

So what.

If they try to use what they know about me to their advantage, that’s about them, not me.

If they try to use what they know to my disadvantage, that’s also about them, not me.

Yes, others can cause me trouble by knowing about me. I accept that, because what I’m talking about is what’s really me.

I believe that it’s easier to move about as the real you than as some image you create for your use.  Yeah, I’m talking about me and about you.

Let me not forget about addressing others’ vulnerabilities. It’s simple – if I treat others with respect and honor, if I behave with integrity, if I do NOT use what I know about others to my advantage or to their disadvantage, then vulnerability… isn’t.

In the public speaking community, one of the bits of wisdom is that the most successful speakers are real and vulnerable. They share their own stories, including their own failings and missteps. This is true of public figures in general – we tend to like and trust people whom we think of as real.

How about you? Are you willing to be vulnerable and real?

It comes up all the time, especially for those of us who have strong opinions, tend to be competitive, and focus on what we think is important to us: being right.

I’ll start with the simplest question: how important is it to be right?

I hear it all the time: “We had a fight because he/she wouldn’t accept that I was right!” Or “the meeting dragged on and on because they couldn’t see that I was right!”  Or “I’d rather be right and have my integrity!”

Sigh.

Why is “right” so important?

I say this as someone who was a pro at knowing that I was “right”.  And all of those years of fighting with people to try to get them to admit that I was right makes me very sad.

What’s the value of being “right”? Does it make the world better? Does it make a relationship better?  Does it make a conversation better? In what way does it make anything better?

Talking to my wife, which I do every day , I realized that every time I insisted on being right I drove a wedge between us. Why? Because if I was right, then she must have been wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong,… Needless to say, that didn’t make her feel good.

“You always have to be right! You’re always trying to make me feel stupid!” And I’m sure that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. After all, I always had to be right with everyone else, too.

And you know what? I have to admit that she wasn’t altogether wrong.

More recently, I began to realize what was really important: our relationship. Treating her with respect, listening to her, actually thinking about what she said (as opposed to “how can I prove that what she just said is wrong?”), and allowing for the possibility that there’s more than one “right.”

While I’m using my relationship and communications with my wife as the example for this, it’s really about all relationships. And I think you know that I believe that any time you have a conversation, that’s part of a relationship, no matter how brief it might be. This applies to personal relationships and professional relationships. It applies in business meetings and conversations over lunch.

Showing respect is more important than being right.

Maintaining a relationship is more important than being right.

Sharing and collaborating is more important than being right.

Allowing for multiple valid views of right is more important than having the one right.

In fact, I think that being right is pretty far down the list of important things.

Let’s say we’re having a conversation, and you say something about my mother, and I get angry.

Why do I get angry?

I’m not a psychotherapist, in spite of my education in psychology and a family full of psychotherapists*. I am a student of human nature, so I’ll take my best guess.

I’d say there are some good possibilities: I feel disrespected; I feel that I – through what you said about my mother – am being judged; I love my mother, and feel that you’ve disrespected her.

All of these are valid. Yet why angry? Why would any of these lead to me feeling angry?

I believe that it comes down to my sense of self-worth – that somehow, by disrespecting and/or judging me and/or my mother, you have also called into question my value on this planet.

Okay – I get that, too. Having someone question your value could be annoying.

But why? Why does someone else’s opinion, belief, or random thought matter?

Because I don’t want to – or can’t – acknowledge or deal with my own fear of being less valuable. And you’ve just put it out there in words!

So I blame you.  Internally, I believe it’s your fault. Externally, I take action on that belief.

I’m lying. I’m lying to myself and telling myself that I’m angry because you have disrespected me. I’m lying to you in the same way.

Perhaps the real problem is my self-image and sense of self-worth. Perhaps if I felt more comfortable with who I am and what I do and all the rest of it, instead of feeling angry, I’d feel some pity and/or sympathy.

In retrospect, this is part of what happened with my friend the other day in our email exchange that I mentioned in Learning to type. It would have been very easy to react to his hostility and his hurtful words. It was tempting now and then.

Fortunately for me, I’ve been working on not lying to myself, not lying to others, not taking responsibility for others’ feelings and behaviors, and not assigning responsibility for my feelings and behaviors.

He didn’t make me angry, nor did I feel angry, because I recognized what was going on. It was like a rain storm – nothing I can do about it, it’s got nothing to do with me, and I just have to wait and it’ll end.

Being honest with myself is hard. Being honest with you is harder. And both are worth doing.

I refer to myself as the white sheep of the family.

Cory Haines' post http://is.gd/im5f reminds me of learning to type.
You never learn until you stop looking @ the kb

Followed by this:

Stop looking at the keyboard, speed goes *way* down immediately.
Then, you get faster than you were at hunt n' peck...eventually

My response was this:

@ajepst there's some profundity in that beyond just about typing,
 isn't there?

It really got me to thinking about how hard change is, because that’s what this exchange is really about: change.

In fact, my entire series of posts in this category, Coping and Communicating, is largely about change.

Learning to see my own behavior as my own, to see your behavior as being about you and your feelings, and understanding that we only interact at the external, behavioral level – that’s all about changing.

Change isn’t instant. Change takes practice and commitment. Change usually involves some failures and some frustration and exasperation, and strong temptation to give up and go back to what we know that is comfortable.

Like learning touch typing. It’s easier to look at the keyboard and take your time, if that’s what you’re used to.  In fact, I’ve seen some hunt-n-peckers who are blazingly fast. But their focus is on the keyboard, not on what they’re typing, if they have to look to find the keys.

I was fortunate, in that I was required to learn touch typing in Junior High School in NYC. I was less fortunate when it comes to personal development.  There were no requirements, and I was able to self-delude into believing that there were no consequences.

It took a long time for me to embrace the ideas that I’ve been sharing here, and longer to actually be able to put them into practice.

Just this week, I had a lengthy email exchange with a dear friend. He was very angry, frustrated with me, and hostile. He swore at me, was accusatory, told me how much he’d done for me, and so on. I was able to listen, pay attention to what I saw as being most important (our relationship, and his difficulties, and  how I might help), and respond without taking any of it personally.  It felt really good.

Like when I realized that I could, in fact, type without looking at the keys (95 wpm, btw ).

Thanks, Anne.  Thought-provoking.