Tag Archives: cross cultural strategies

Emotions are Contagious

Posted on by
1

As I read about the world’s mourning rituals I notice that you can catch a cold, you can contract the flu, but you can also get a case of sadness or joy from another. Emotions are contagious, which is not such a bad thing.

Burkina Faso traditional home

Burkina Faso traditional home

When I was pregnant, I didn’t think that the viral nature of emotions was good. I couldn’t watch intense dramas; “Shindler’s List,” “The Joy Luck Club” or “Life is Beautiful,” were far from my viewing list. I could bearly watch a happy sitcom on TV since there might be one of those “times of your life” commercials that could set me into tears. In that state, my emotional radar was so strong that I could sympathetically cry about just about any moment. It was embarrassing.

Now far away from the prenatal stage, I recognize that there are still times where being exposed to another’s grief or hardship can get me weeping. For example, when I’m struggling, I’m leery of situations or films that will bring up sadness. I want to hide out and be entertained with fluff. Yet, I am hiding, not truly coping, and in that lies the core reason for communal grieving.

Around the world, we can find long lasting rituals that push us to face and move through the sadness of loss. In Ireland and Scotland for example, the practice of keening or a vocal lament over a corpse was popular from the sixteenth century on. Women, often paid for their services, would recite list the lineage of the deceased, poetically describe those left behind and literally sing his praises. This practice continues in parts of rural Greece where elder women of the community sing laments at funerals, memorial services and during exhumation.

These songs appear to have the same effect as watching “P.S. I Love You.” Those grieving are moved to tears. Yet, they are expected to stay relatively under control so they can follow the singing. In Greece, if a widow were to lose control and begin shouting for example, the rest of the mourners would move her back to her seat so that she can listen to the laments and quietly weep.

In tribal culture of western Africa, communal grief rituals are created when a major loss occurs. Meanwhile during the ritual, others in the community are expected to describe their own tragedies and sadness so together the tribe can move to the other side of mourning. You might begin by recounting how you miss your deceased aunt, yet I would be expected to add how I am suffering with the loss of my grandfather and the sadness I feel that life is so short. Here too people lament until they are moved to face the source of suffering and allow it to be seen and processed.

Ritual seems to be created to keep the grief on track. We are required to stay with our sadness instead of being distracted by the injustice of the loss and running down the path of rage or blame. What is gone, is gone and we are to simply face it.

So how might I translate this knowledge to my drama vs. romantic comedy dilemma?

Lately, I have been watching what type of emotion I am trying to avoid. Is it I don’t want to witness sadness? Do I want to run from others who are afraid or anxious? Struggling with facing the reality of injustice in the world? Starting there, I try to identify which emotion has me on the run.

Then I attempt to just allow that feeling to be within me. For example, I was avoiding the natural sadness that comes with sending another son off on an exchange program on Friday. It didn’t seem right, since it is mixed with huge joy for his next adventure; I didn’t want to be sad and happy at the same time. However, I noticed that I instead had been wanting to hide from anything emotional…generally, not a good practice.

I realized I had some internal clean up to do. To push myself along, I looked at pictures of when he was a toddler and thought of our dear boy as a baby…a bit masochistic I know, but it really helped. Essentially created my own little lament. After allowing happy/sad/nervous to be fully present, I now find I can better participate in his last week home.

What is equally important for me is to be comfortable enough with my own grief, so I can show up for another in a similar circumstance. We really need community when we are struggling. As in my last post on Job, it is when we can stick with someone as they experience scary emotions that we shine as friends…and as parents.

Dinner with Job

Posted on by
1

Last week I had dinner with Job.

Book of Job by William Blake

Book of Job by William Blake

Thousands of years after the legend was born, the biblical character Job continues to incarnate in my pedestrian life. On Friday, he visited in the form of a father whose twenty-year-old daughter recently died of a brain tumor. I also met him last month as a young woman about to lose her home. He shows up from time to time as a friend who after being fired cannot find a new job.

To recognize him, let me pass along Job’s story:

Once upon a time, there was a successful father who was a respected member of his community. He had land, possessions, a big family and a wife who loved him.

Then things began to fall apart. In his times, it would have been the gods, or God depending one’s religious background, who ordained the mess. Regardless, Job loses members of his family, his business bankrupts and the good stuff he owned is taken away.

At first, he is tough and takes the setbacks gracefully. “It is the will of God,” he proclaims. But then things go from really bad to worse. He becomes ill and is covered with oozing sores. Then, he’s had enough.

Depending when you meet Job, you migth find him yelling at God or not believing that there is anything remotely divine in the universe. At this point in the story, he hates life and wishes he could die. If we harken back to my post on the four seasons of tough times, Job experiences one of the coldest and cruelest winters of his life.

As I sat at dinner with the deeply suffering parent last weekend it was to Job’s story I went for guidance on what to do. Three friends visit Job at his lowest point. They model both how to support another well and how to really screw it up!

First, the three friends sit in silence with Job for a week. This has been carried forward in the Jewish ritual of sitting shiva where a grieving family stays at home for 7 days and friends come to support them. During these times, we are to witness the other’s suffering and not try to fix it. The three friends shine here as they love Job enough to allow his pain to pierce their hearts and feel compassion.

But, next the friends fail. I try to remember them as a cautionary tale. It appears they couldn’t take the depth of Job hating God and turning away from life. It was just too scary for the three. So, they try to figure out why all this bad stuff had happened to Job. One friend tells Job he must have sinned and God was punishing him. Another adds that he must be a bad person. As you can imagine, this does not make Job feel better. Trying to figure out why a friend is suffering is generally a bad idea. For example, if I had followed these misguided souls, I might have mistakenly stammered, “Perhaps your daughter was only supposed to be here for twenty years,” or “Now she is in a better place.”

The story of Job reminds me that we don’t get to understand the full “why” of a situation and, as Buddha agreed, that life contains suffering. It is very uncomfortable to sit with someone who is miserable. I always wish I could help. I would love to relieve the pain not only in the one suffering but also my own sympathetic sadness. Yet it doesn’t work like that.

I can remind another that I care about him and I would miss him if he wasn’t around. I can say I’m sorry that he is going through terrible times. In the depths of another’s misery, that’s all I know to be absolutely true.

Play Each Day

Posted on by
1

A half a dozen years ago, I found myself in a rough patch. Looking at the four seasons of tough times, I had a good four to six months of what in my last post I would have called “winter.” I wasn’t happy with what life had dished out in the early months of 2003, nothing was earth shattering, but nonetheless very disheartening. Discouraged and unsure of the future, I was weathering tough times’ dark, messy middle when luckily, I received some good advice. ”Even if you don’t want to, do something that you enjoy each day,” my husband told me.

Children Playing 1941

Children Playing 1941

He had reminded me to play; to do something that might not have any obvious purpose other than to make me smile. Trusting him, I took his advice and made sure I did something that had before brought me happiness. I ran around the neighborhood, spent time with friends and danced around my kitchen. I played games with my children and traveled with them. Play time helped me to recover my bearings and after studying tough times for the next half a decade, I understand why.

As expert Dr. Stuart Brown explains, play keeps us healthy and thriving. “By its nature it is uniquely and intrinsically rewarding. It generates optimism, seeks out novelty, makes perseverance fun, leads to mastery, gives the immune system a bounce, fosters empathy and promotes a sense of belonging and community.”  The following video clip from a three part PBS special describes the importance of play:

I now try to remember to log in some good old fashioned fun whenever I can. So, please play. Play hard and play often, and I hope it will allow you to “play well.”

The Four Seasons of Tough Times

Posted on by
1

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun… Ecclesiastes 3:1

The belief that every challenge has four distinct stages has occupied a ridiculous amount of my attention over the past dozen years. This is because I am convinced it is one of the most helpful truths for navigating difficult circumstances. Yet, when I seek to explain (stage 1) how tough times begin, (stage 2) what the middle of the journey looks like, (stage 3) how to adapt and (step 4) how to get to the end…I feel like I get too many blank stares. I want to exclaim, “Trust me! This is important, it will save you,” but instead I wonder if I’m making as much impact as the ill-kempt man wearing the sandwich board on the street corner pronouncing the end of the world. Both passionate and neither of us getting our message across.

So, to not lose you, my fair readers, as I try to pass along this jewel, I’d like to propose the following analogy to describe the four-phased journey concept and its importance:

Just in the northern climes of North America, tough times can be seen as moving through four distinct seasons. During difficult circumstances, we start in the autumn. Things begin to “fall” apart — leaves break away from the trees, plants freeze and die and what we had counted on to feed us all summer ends. In tough times terms, the trees we had been going to for fruit could be a marriage, a friendship or good health — we watch them crumble and hope that we can find a way to make it last — but if it’s time is up, no amount of vigilance will stave off the end.

So, then comes winter, or the messy middle of tough times. It seems impossible that something will grow again during this season. It’s dark, inhospitable and can be really depressing.

If can wait out winter, spring comes again with a promise of new beginnings. There is more light and optimism. Time to till the soil, decide what to plant and ready for the growing season. And, if we are courageous enough, we will plant seeds and do the work to create a new garden (i.e. work to create a new relationship, job, or home). We must care for the new seedlings, get rid of the weeds to get back to a stable place once more.

Earlier this month, after presenting a keynote lecture on thriving through tough times, a soft-spoken grandmother approached me. “When you talked about approaching tough times like an old Montana rancher, I got it,” she said. After raising children and crops in New Mexico and northern Canada, she told me that recognizing the stages of each difficulty had saved her. “When the kids were young I copied and pasted a passage from Ecclesiastes on my cupboard to keep me sane through the years,” she added and began to recite, “To everything there is a season, time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted…”

During bad circumstances, it really helps to remember that there is a time for sowing and a time for reaping. For each set of tough times there is a minimum suffering period. With a death of a grandparent, it might be a year for example. But, not acting appropriately during each tough times “season,” you can maximize your imprisonment in difficult circumstances.

In the winter, or the messy, chaotic middle phase, trying to plant new seeds wastes your resources. Ask any rancher. Winter is when you rest. You sharpen your tools and nurture your stock. You want to slow down, take care of yourself and your home. You can’t plow the fields and trying would be silly. Rushing around is a foolish, and in the depths of January, can be a dangerous activity.

The advice for the winter of difficult conditions is the same. When something has ended, be it a job or a relationship, trying to quickly create something new is counterproductive. We need to recover. We need to take stock in where we stand. Rushing around and using up our resources is foolish and can be dangerous as we exhaust what collateral or energy we have in a harsh, dark climate.

There is a time to rest and there will be a time to risk. During a challenge’s spring and summer, we will need to be rested and ready to act. Where after a loss, we must be brave enough to wait through the winter, we must also be bold enough when the time comes to choose to try again.

Each season presents unique tests. Not acting seasonally appropriate circumvents the process. Rushing around and trying to plant in winter means that we won’t have any reserves to take advantage of spring. Not getting to work in the spring will also have us missing or not taking advantage of prime growing season.

Meanwhile, we live in a culture focused only on action. It believes that when things are not going our way we need to think positive, roll up our sleeves and get to work. Yet, this is not global wisdom. For example, like Ecclesiastes, Taoism is based on discerning in which season we reside and acting accordingly. It is said that by going with the natural flow of each challenge, Taoist masters exert minimal energy and are able to live well past a hundred years old. There is a time to wait and a time to move. Knowing the difference allows us to flow effortlessly through each major change back to stability.

So, when tough times hit, notice:

1) Are structures or relationships ending (1st stage of disruption or “autumn”)

2) Are you in dark times, dealing with loss and no new solutions in sight (chaos or winter)

3) Can you see new possibilities, is it “time” to get moving again (adaptation or spring)

4) Are you called to try new things, be bold, act (stability or summer)

Then ask, what would a wise Minnesotan or Montanan farmer do? For every thing there is a season…

Give back to Come Back

Posted on by
Reply

For it is in giving we receive – Saint Francis of Assisi

St Francis of Assisi

St Francis of Assisi

 I know something to be true. My friend Jerry White, has built his organization, Survivor Corps, around this same fact — if you want to fully return to your life after tough times, it is critical that you give back what you have learned to a greater community.  To make it home from the journey through loss, we must find a way to help others. It moves us outside ourselves and as a lovely Moroccan colleague described, it reminds us that we are not alone in our pain.

Strangely, I have yet to find this truth explicitly stated in the world’s death and mourning rituals.  It may there and I’m missing it, or it is such a basic practice that it goes without saying. Are those who have grieved expected to be the first to support those in mourning for example? I invite you to send examples from other cultures of those after surviving loss or initiation, who are then required to support others through a similar journey.  

This truth resounds throughout leaders of the twentieth century. Austrian psychologist Viktor Frankl used his experience as a prisoner in three concentration camps to help others when they were suffering throughout the rest of his life. As he described in his seminal book, He believed that it is critical that we help others to recover; that “Man’s search for meaning is a primary motivation in his life.”  

Co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, Bill Wilson, once wrote, “While I lay in the hospital the thought came that there were thousands of hopeless alcoholics who might be glad to have what had been so freely given me. Perhaps I could help some of them. They in turn might work with others.

“My friend [who had helped him] had emphasized the absolute necessity of demonstrating these principles in all my affairs. Particularly was it imperative to work with others as he had worked with me. Faith without works was dead, he said. And how appallingly true for the alcoholic! For if an alcoholic failed to perfect and enlarge his spiritual life through work and self-sacrifice for others, he could not survive the certain trials and low spots ahead. If he did not work, he would surely drink again, and if he drank, he would surely die.” And thus, we have the final step of the AA doctrine – “12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.” 

Jerry, when writing I Will Not Be Broken: Five Steps to Overcoming a Life Crisis, added as his fifth step, “Give Back.” After losing his leg to a landmine during a hike in Israel, Jerry worked to find a way back to stability. He described a comfortable life that includes four healthy children and a beautiful wife. But, he adds, it wasn’t until a young girl in Cambodia with one leg and crutches said, “You are one of us,” did he fully return. By accepting that he was part of the global community of those injured by landmines, Jerry looked for ways to give back what he had learned to that group. Co-founding Landmine Survivors Network, now Survivor Corps, Jerry has worked tirelessly to ban landmines worldwide and help victims to become survivors. A core principle of Survivor Corps is that once you are able to stand again, you must give back to others. Participants become volunteers and guide the way for the newly injured.  What appears selfless is actually a foundational gift for recovery. 

Once we have gone through the difficult circumstances, we are admitted to special clubs. Some belong to “children of divorce,” others “survivor of cancer,” “once bankrupt” or “recovering addicts.” Inducted, this becomes one of our communities whether it was welcomed or not. When we accept our membership, we then have the opportunity to return back to the land of the living. On our journey alone through tough times, we pick up wisdom and insight in its dark corners. By giving what we find, we must communicate and connect with the living; thus surviving and proving we were able to overcome and rise above. 

As another beautiful friend explained, “I lost two babies consecutively, the first was a still birth in the 38 week of pregnancy and the second died on the second day after giving birth. It was so hard for me to go back to life. Two of my friends gave birth at the same time, and I still see their kids growing in front of them. For a time I hated seeing babies around. I wanted to live in a place where there was no baby. I had to pretend I was okay and people believed it. Then, my aunt, who is 3 years younger than me, gave birth to her third child. The baby had a number of abnormalities and died after three weeks. I was the only person whose support was meaningful to my aunt. 

“She many times told me that she drew strength from me and that she had no reason to feel down when she had me in mind. That was a great source of healing to me as well. I felt this [tragedy] did not happen only to ME. I know it is cruel to think like this, but this is how I really got over it. I had been through a lot of strange feelings that I felt ashamed to share, but when I heard my aunt saying the same thing I stopped blaming myself and knew they were so natural. Her loss was a mirror I could see my negative feelings in. Through her experience I tolerated my annoyance at seeing babies. She had the same feelings, and she communicated them to me because she knew I would understand better than anybody else. Without she knowing it she was as great to me as she thought I was to her.”

What have you learned that might help others in similar circumstances? How have you given back to return “home”? I welcome your thoughts. 

Standing at the First Gate

Posted on by
Reply

You cannot hope to build a better world without improving the individuals. To that end each of us must work for his own improvement, and at the same time share a general responsibility for all humanity, our particular duty being to aid those to whom we think we can be most useful.  –Marie Curie 

In an ancient Sumerian myth, Inanna, the Queen of Heaven and Earth, decides to go visit her sister

Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth

Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth

Ereškigal who lived in the underworld. Inanna, although overly confident and a bit arrogant, was also smart. Before stepping into the bowels of the earth, she asked her faithful servant Ninshubur to wait for her at the underworld’s first gate. Ninshubur was not to follow, just to watch for her return. If she did not see Inanna within three days, the servant was to go get help from the gods. This wise decision saves Inanna later in the story.

When tough times hit, we are indeed wise to enlist a Ninshubur or two; loyal friends with whom we share our troubles.  This caring community pays attention as we journey through difficulties and keep tabs if we have been in the depths of the underworld too long.

Admitting that we are struggling is not a standard cultural norm in US culture. We strive to be on top of our game and independent, so it can be hard to share that we are traveling through disappointment, grief or even depression. Yet, a Ninshubur can save our life.

Cross-culturally, I have found that many death and mourning rituals include a caring community that periodically checks in on those grieving. There are prescribed activities where the mourners must participate with extended family and friends.  The larger group watches “at the first gate” and assures that the family keeps moving forward to the other side of loss.

A wise woman shared her story of acting as a caring community member, “One of my dearest friends committed suicide last fall. She left two children, ages nine and twelve. When she died, the eldest son locked himself in his room and wouldn’t come out. After a few hours, worried, I wrote a note saying, ‘Are you OK in there? Just let me know.’ He responded, ‘I’m OK.’ I then wrote the names of all the people who had gathered in the house that evening who loved him, so he would know that we were all there holding him, and slipped it back under the door. He eventually unlocked the door.

“Six months later, his father needed to go on a trip. I kept an eye on the kids during the week that he was away. Although his grandparents were taking a turn at the house, I received a surprise call from my twelve-year-old friend who asked if I might be coming by the house. All plans were tossed away and said I would. That night I spent the evening watching him do homework and just being near him. That’s the first time he’s called me although I call and visit him often.”

When choosing someone to stand at the first gate, we want a friend who can pay attention and allow us to figure out how to adapt to a bad situation. If you are struggling with a financial crisis, a tough relationship or job loss, enlist a friend who can witness what you are going through without trying to “snap you out of it.” Difficult experiences hold opportunity and learning if we are allowed to work it through. Inanna had to go to the underworld, even though it was a risky venture. There are times when we need to restructure our finances, get out of bad marriages and find new work, even if it seems dangerous and scary. Those who can keep an eye on our progress and overall health are useful members on our “tough times team.”  They let us travel through our difficult circumstances, but make sure that we don’t get stuck within them. 

Creating Connections

Posted on by
Reply

This past week had me contemplating what it means to be of use. Listening to one NPR Morning Edition program, I began to tally all the problems on the Obama administration’s plate: Pakistan, Afghanistan, Supreme Court Justice nomination, lack of US cyber security, the economy, the environment…and the list continued. It was overwhelming as I thought about what it must take to attack all these issues with a calm and thoughtful approach. You’ve got four years to change the world, so where do you begin?

Meanwhile, watching volunteers and brave souls in the Dominican Republic the week before, I was struck by all they each could add to their list — sanitation, nutrition, access to education, reduction of teenage prostitution…you’ve got the rest of your life, so where do you begin?

When studying how those who take on societal problems, or engage skillfully when fighting against an institution like a culture or a government, I notice that it is about planting seeds. It is rare that you will win the whole battle within your lifetime, so what seeds can you plant that might take root? It is about doing your part as a generation within many generations before and after you. For example, Rosa Parks did her part, as did those before her and as we must do today in the battle of basic civil rights for all citizens.

Sand Mandala

Sand Mandala

 

Author and conservation activist David Quammen describes the importance of creating connection between wilderness areas as critical to ecological health. Fragmentation creates islands and it is within islands that we experience extinction. As I listened to David describe this concept last night in support of the Gallatin Valley Land Trust, I realized that this was a beautiful reframing of how we might think of fighting a good fight to resolve what seem to be irreconcilable differences. In other words, in my actions am I creating islands or corridors? As these great long battles shift and redefine itself, so what can I add to create more connection rather than fragmentation? Is this not only the work of the environmentalist, but also that of every individual who seeks to improve a society?

Navajo Sand Painting

Navajo Sand PaintingTibetan mandala

I wanted to include a brief video of Peter Donnelly of Christchurch, New Zealand, who plants seeds of connection, creativity and a reminder of the temporal nature of being here. He reminds me of the practice of the Tibetan sand mandalas and Navajo sand paintings, as seen above, which are painstakingly created only to be erased. In all three there is the message of bringing forward your gifts regardless of the final outcome.

To see more of Donnelly’s art, go to http://www.donnellygallery.co.nz/sandart/index.html

Celebrating Each Phase of Parenthood

Posted on by
2

Graduation and wedding season will soon be upon us. Time to dust off the wingtips and maybe cough up some dough for an appropriate gift. A sometimes uncomfortable (could just be the shoes) experience, I know that many in my world wonder why we should partake in these events. Yet, looking at these and other “closing rituals,” my advice would be to tie that double Windsor and show up if it makes sense. 

Humans struggle with comprehending that an experience or a relationship is over. Our propensity to create stories and habits seem to play into this difficulty. For example, if I ask you about your family or your work, you are going to tell me a story. I might tell you that I am a mother of three, married for twenty-four years to an attorney and live in Bozeman. It may be true, but it is still an interpretation of my reality. All the “facts” I provide color how I thus perceive myself. Tell the story enough and it becomes a habit even though some of its details may have changed.

When I am coaching with parents, I notice that sometimes the stories about our children reflect a long-passed reality. For example, we may be treating our offspring as though they were young when they needed our minute-by-minute concern. However, if they are now adults, they would best handle their personal affairs. 

But, who wants to let go of good thing? Our brains sure don’t! That I am “a young mother just starting out” is usually preferred to “I’m a middle-aged woman alone.” I want to hold on to the good stories as long as I can. Yet, ask adults whose parents refuse to let go and treat them like ten year olds. When it’s time, it’s absolutely time. There are times when we need to consciously shift to a updated description of where we stand and thus to a revised way of conducting ourselves. In letting go, we open ourselves to new and maybe even better possibilities. 

Celebrations like graduations and weddings push us to move on. When we overtly acknowledge an ending, we are more apt to face facts and adapt. I believe this is a leading reason why funerals and mourning rituals are the most highly celebrated of all rites of passage around the globe. Even if we admit our loved one has died, the publicly act of celebrating this ending with our community makes it harder to act otherwise.  

If your child is not the one graduating or getting married, showing up is still valuable. Rituals “stick” when they are witnessed by others. When I’m waffling on going to a celebration, I remember a favorite essay from the National Public Radio program “This I Believe”  by Deirdre Sullivan entitled, “Always go to the Funeral” (click here to read or listen to this piece.) Ms. Sullivan explains, “I believe in always going to the funeral. My father taught me that. The first time he said it directly to me, I was 16 and trying to get out of going to calling hours for Miss Emerson, my old fifth grade math teacher. I did not want to go. My father was unequivocal. ‘Dee,’ he said, ‘you’re going. Always go to the funeral. Do it for the family.’”

And so, this summer I too will pull the dress from the dry cleaner’s bag, slip into the pumps and know that whether I am the parent or just the friend my appearance at each event is worth any discomfort.

Announcing a one day workshop in Tacoma, WA

Posted on by
Reply

For those in the Pacific Northwest, I will be providing a one day “Thriving Through Tough Times” workshop in Tacoma, Washington on May 30, 2009. It will be a fun and highly interactive day of exploring techniques to overcome our toughest challenges.

We will meet at the Center for Spiritual Living on 206 N. J Street. Cost: $25.00. Please contact Frances Lorenz, (253) 383-3151, lorenzmf@aol.com, to register. Hope to see you there!  

 

 

It’s a project

Posted on by
Reply

Do not be too quick to assume your enemy is a savage just because he is your enemy. Perhaps he is your enemy because he thinks you are a savage. Or perhaps he is afraid of you because he feels that you are afraid of him. And perhaps if he believed you are capable of loving him he would no longer be your enemy.   –  Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation

Foraging my memory for blog post ideas, I remembered the phrase, “The Listening Project.” With foggy details that included volunteers going to the Middle East to just listen to participants and the healing that emerged, it seemed like an important NGO to pass along.

Well, searching on “the listening project” yielded a new award-winning documentary at www.thelisteningprojectfilm.com. The short trailer describes a movie that asks open-ended questions about America’s impact of people around the globe. I haven’t seen the movie, so cannot recommend it, but the experience of watching just the trailer reminded why I believe in listening and why it can be so darn hard to do.

Here’s an experiment, watch the trailer and notice where you cringe. Is it when the interviewer asks, as it was for me, “what you think that America is doing wrong?” Or perhaps, do you wish to zone out when another participant responds, “All Americans are liars.”

If we do not listen, we cannot learn. Yet, who likes to hear about their failures or the anger of another? I know when I am teaching it takes a deep breath and a dose of courage to ask, “What could I have done differently?” Listening is a discipline. It takes work and practice not to turn away when the rhetoric contains malice, prejudice or even misinformation. And, for me, it takes a few tricks.

 First, to stay present when listening to unwelcome information I repeat to myself, “that’s one window.” Listening to heated dialogue, I like to picture that everyone is looking through a unique window on the world. I am hearing the view from that person’s lookout. Holding that image, I am more able to stay in, remembering that I getting a picture that is informed by the speaker’s experience, the landscape upon which they were raised with the panes colored by their culture.

 Second, I repeat, “I’m going to learn something.” When I realize that I can gain something from the conversation, I find I am more engaged, and as I have mentioned in earlier posts, in a more rational mental state. My view gets bigger and better if I can come to understand yours.

 So, I hope to watch this film and want to let you know that organization for which I searched is called, “The Compassionate Listening Project.” This group can be found at www.compassionatelistening.org. From that site, I drew the opening quote and renewed inspiration from their consistent willingness to keep listening.