Like a pop foul ball that no one tried to catch, his words arced and landed with a quiet thump between them.
After a long weekend of working an art show attended by defended and disengaged art viewers, the arrival of an eager and unlikely inquiry felt like medicine for Ken’s beleaguered creative spirit.
“What is the inspiration for your work?”
This is not a particularly unusual question for an artist, and it generally points to a higher level of interest…and excitement. But when the inquiry comes from two young boys wearing graphic hoodies and high-top sneakers, it tends to land a bit differently. Attuned to his audience, Ken accepted their invitation for conversation and answered in a way that was efficient, simple to understand, and laced with a hint of encouragement for any young creative aspirations that may have been present.
Their eyes stayed on Ken while he spoke. But as the words lingered between them, naturally awaiting a response, a spaciousness grew into dis-ease and their eyes started to dart around. Suddenly one of the boys, blurted out, “Look, let’s go over there.” And with that, the two dashed off to the next “shiny” distraction.
In that moment, I laughed at the mismatched response to the equally unexpected inquiry. And then I found myself wondering which well-meaning adult in their life coached them with this question…while neglecting to finish their tutorial in listening and responding.
Clearly, whoever taught these young boys to ask this question was familiar with the artist’s perspective. There is a lot of time invested in creating art. And often the nuance an artist has grappled with and painstakingly nurtured into place goes completely unrecognized by the casual observer. So, when someone asks a question that feels both attuned and empathetic to that process, it is easy to assume there is potential for a deeper connection to be made.
Unfortunately, that did not happen. And honestly, it is not because it couldn’t have happened between a child and an adult. I have had the privilege of enjoying many fresh and imaginative art interpretations offered by unedited children in our gallery.
I know it is going to sound a bit cynical, but it felt obvious to me that the boys arrived with a socially skillful question, crafted by an adult. And most likely done so with the intention of creating a socially positive experience for their children in an otherwise new and unfamiliar environment. And while I applaud that kind of social mentoring, this interaction illustrates just how much focus we place on eliciting socially positive responses for ourselves and leave so much untaught about listening and knowing how to engage with people’s shared and personal information.
AN EARLY LESSON:
I grew up with a mother who was a strong advocate for service work. As children, we started volunteering in nursing homes as young as eight years old. And when I turned twelve, I remember my mother encouraging me to get involved in a community program that paired youth with seniors to help with daily tasks like house cleaning and yard work.
One afternoon, she came up to my room and handed me a colorful piece of stationery that carried a carefully crafted script rendered in painstakingly perfect penmanship. She asked me to read it aloud to her. I did and then she said, “This is what you should say when you call this number and ask to be enrolled in this volunteer program.”
I remember feeling irritated and saying, “But I would never talk like this. And what am I supposed to do after I have said this?” “Well, once you get them interested, then you just have to listen and follow any directions they give you.”
I made the phone call and begrudgingly used her script. I remember feeling unusually uneasy, not only because it was the first time I was initiating a phone call to an adult I didn’t know. But also, because it was the first time I was aware of being asked to use words that were not my own. I knew my mother wanted me to be successful in this unfamiliar interaction and her offering did land me a placement in the program.
But she taught me something else that day. The kind of attention my words were used to receiving was not guaranteed in the outside world. In fact, her script suggested that my selection of words may not be reliable in getting people’s attention or the results I sought in life. In a perfectly teachable moment, I learned that how we communicate is more about eliciting a positive social response than bringing our unique perspective into the world. And, as a bonus, I learned following directions would maintain a positive response.
I am not sure I could have named it at that moment, but I do think the world started to feel a bit less friendly to me on that day.
I’m not going to lie. I found the two young boys that visited our booth perfectly charming. And their coach served them well. They successfully created a twinkle in my eye and a generous answer from Ken. Just like my early lesson, these youngsters learned a skillful script for opening doors and stirring a favorable emotional response towards them. But when we do not know how to meet the emotional response we’ve been trained to create, we slam doors and squander any vulnerability that may have been tricked out of its hiding spot.
Just to clarify, Ken was not at all wounded by the experience. He saw it for what it was. Nor was he phased when one of the kids came back and asked him if he thought he would make more money when he was dead. (True story)
But it caught my attention for two reasons. First, because I have a terrible habit of believing people truly do not care about what I think, feel, or believe. As such, I have developed conversational strategies that keep me fairly protected from having that belief confirmed. And if I am being honest, Ken’s completely unacknowledged answer is the exact social landmine I strive to avoid. So, to say the experience landed in a tender spot would be accurate.
But it also shone a spotlight on how many of our socially scripted inquiries rarely arrive with any interest in listening to the response they may generate. The absence of genuine interest is so ubiquitous that we unconsciously meet it with entirely disposable answers. With so little regard given to both the inquiry and the answers, these hollow conversational gestures efficiently move us through tasks with a good bit of social courtesy but leave both people relatively unknown and unseen. And this tidy social theater leaves most of us starving for true connection.
Like a Buddhist koan, I have found the quest for social connection to be both alluring and baffling. I have spent many hours in meditation contemplating what creates a feeling of connection. And I have spent even more time observing when it seems to happen and more notably when the opportunities are entirely missed. In my experience, I feel a connection when what I am sharing is welcomed, acknowledged, and received.
Most of those feelings are created through listening. I believe so much of our communication is entangled with self-interest and social approval that we have a cultural impairment with listening. And the social consequences are real. We are living with unprecedented levels of social anxiety and facing a loneliness epidemic.
So how do we create moments for each other where our words are met with welcome, acknowledgement and reception? Well, I can’t believe I am about to use a baseball reference because I truly do not know a lick about the sport. But here we go…
We’ve all seen segments in the local news with sport highlights that feature a well hit ball soaring straight for the bleachers. As the camera follows the ball’s trajectory, the focus finds a section of exuberant fans who came to the game both expectant and prepared with their own baseball mitts. As they carefully track the ball hurtling in their direction, each one strives for the privilege of receiving the unlikely arrival.
What if our words were sought after as earnestly? What if when we met someone, we asked the kind of questions we genuinely cared to hear about? And what if we arrived with attentive ears and the expectant intention to receive what might come flying our way? And what if we recognized the moment and celebrated as heartily as those who caught an unexpected fly ball? Ok, I know that would be weird…even for me. But would it not feel a whole lot better than having your words go completely unacknowledged?
Listening is a magnetic force. We move towards those who listen, and we share more of ourselves with them. If you are seeking more social connection, the answer can be found through listening. As I have shared in the past, my listening skills derived initially out of a defense mechanism and real fear of emotional vulnerability. But it has proven to be a gift and my superpower. My life has completely opened up because of listening and my relationships are deeply meaningful.
When I listen, I get to learn from other people’s lived experience. I see a much broader set of perspectives and have grown far more tolerant. I also continue to find myself in others. Let’s face it, there is much variation among our lived experiences. And I have found most conversations will include content that I have no experience with. But if I listen to find similarities, our shared human emotions will always be our common ground. Regardless of the experiences that generate them, emotions like uncertainty, grief, frustration, and joy are things we all know and have felt. If we listen with the intention of catching the emotional content of each other’s message, we have a guaranteed path for creating a response that delivers the feeling of being received.
For example, I do not need to experience bankruptcy to make a connection with someone who is. I just need to be able to hear what they are saying and access a time in my own life when I felt either desperate, uncertain, or scared about my future. If I meet them in that terrain, I have a fairly good chance of responding in a way that reflects their feelings back to them. Sure, it may not hold the kind of practical information that could prove helpful to them, but they will feel that their internal experience was heard and relatable. And there is nothing more effective in fostering a connection.
For just one day this week, I challenge you to choose just one social interaction and try actively listening as if you want to catch their emotional fly ball. Ask the person a question that you genuinely care about and listen without interruption. Hold no opinion about what they say, give no advice, and respond from the shared emotional terrain. Now tell us about it! How did that feel? What did you hear? What did you learn? What did you experience? And did any of it feel noticeably better than your normal social interactions?
2 responses to “Playing Catch”
Nailed it!
I did do this with a friend this week. We sat on a bench talking and then walking while story telling. What was woven were opportunities to tell our stories to each other that were inspired to tell because there was an opening for them to come out. Being known by the other requires listening to their own version of what was said to them. It’s not advice responding, it’s saying this is my story that I will share because it is my turn to tell one that you have activated. Without room to take turns with each other, we can’t grow in our relationship. I do realize that stories should not be interrupted or we lose track of where we were.