by Elly van Laar | Sep 25, 2015 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Mindfulness
Where is the We in Me?
Probably not in my thought that he abuses his power to exclude others. Nor in the thought that she should listen before she speaks. And certainly not in the thought that they should change their minds at minimum, if not their hearts.
I recognize all those thoughts as us-versus-them thinking. Right-wrong. Better-worse. More compassionate versus less compassionate (ouch, how can I think that as a student of Thich Nhat Hanh?).
And yet, my life would be so much simpler if I see myself as the protector of the underdog, and “THEM” as the bullies. What can I say? I fight for all that is good and pure, for inclusion and compassion, for mindfulness and loving speech. And they? They want more power. They want to exclude anyone they don’t like. They want to operate in secrecy. It makes all my anxiety, anger, and self-righteous indignation acceptable. Who wouldn’t be upset in the face of such ill-intent?
I am pretty sure that, since I have such an abundance of compassion, mindfulness and empathy, I should teach them to open their hearts, listen, and include everyone. I should show them how to transform our community in a delightful place of peace, harmony and joyful connection. I, me, Elly van Laar, the compassionate one, has the wisdom and they should listen.
Hum…
So in my quest to make sure that everyone is heard, even those that speak in pretty unpleasant terms, I shut others up? In this mission to see us all as one, I am actually seeing us as the “we” party and them as the “them” party? In my care for the underdog (at least, in my view) I forget to care for the perceived bullies?
What if they are not the enemy? What if there are no underdogs and no bullies? What if I drop the compassion competition? What if there are just people who do their best within the limitations they have? Who sometimes act and speak in ways I don’t like, and who always deserve a chance for understanding, support, acceptance, love, and belonging? What if I try to expand my inclusion to those I see as the bullies?
Gosh, I imagine I start listening to the “bullies”. I imagine I move over to their side and try to get what it’s like to see the world through their eyes. I imagine I see the beautiful, universal needs behind their feelings of frustration, exhaustion, and exasperation. I imagine I understand the values behind their unwillingness to enter into yet another dialog.
Yep, that’s where I should start. With listening.
Listening to understand. Not to reply. Just listening.
That is where I find the we in me
You want to learn to see the we in you? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Sep 11, 2015 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Fear, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
She hears a soft crying. She can hardly hear it with Anger yelling in her ears. He is trashing the place down. She probably should pay attention to him, but something is drawing her to this crying. She can’t quite determine where it’s coming from, somewhere in the corner over there.
As she walks over, she sees there is a door she has never noticed before. She feels her heart pounding as she turns the knob. The crying gets louder. Not that much, just a bit. It is dark inside, pitch dark. Coming from the brightly lit room, her eyes need to adjust. As she gets used to the dark, she sees a child. Maybe eight years old. Exhausted. Almost starved to death. She probably hasn’t been bathed for years. She can smell the urine and feces she has been drenched in.
The child turns her face to her. Startled, she recognizes this is her child. This is Fear whom she locked away years ago, hoping she would never see her again, hoping she would never feel afraid again.
As she looks at her child, a wave of compassion, love and care well up in her. A kindness for the child, a grief for the harm she contributed to. She strokes Fear’s hair. She sits with her for a long time. Finally she gets up to bring her some food, some water. As she walks to the fountain, she notices Anger sits in the corner, reading a book on compassionate communication. He looks quite satisfied and content.
She understands how Anger tried to cover up Fear, so she would not feel the anguish of being afraid. She has some appreciation for his efforts to empower her to overcome her fear and stand up for herself, even though they were somewhat unskillful. And she is grateful for having found Fear. For getting a second chance to connect with her child, and understand her. Collaborating to find ways to support her. Listening to how Anger can trust that she works on getting her needs for respect, safety, inclusion, and kindness met.
You want to learn to connect to your own anger and fear? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Sep 4, 2015 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, Personal Growth, Self-compassion
My jealousy is really ugly. Not a bit ugly, like unpleasant to look at, but really disgustingly ugly. It is dangerous too. It is covered in a contagious chemical that you can’t smell, taste, feel, see nor touch. It contaminates anyone that comes close to it by making small, insidious remarks about anyone it is jealous of. And sure enough, those around it start to look a little less positive on that person.
I need to protect others from it. I need to hide it and make sure it doesn’t see the light of day. It is too dangerous to even talk about.
True, I have more unpleasant feelings. Like anger, rage, sadness, loneliness, shame. But they all try to support a beautiful, precious, human need. Not always so skillful, and still: a beautiful, precious need. My anger and rage help me to take a stand for myself, to make sure I get respect. My sadness helps me to grief and to make positive changes in my life. Loneliness wants me to find connection, community, closeness. Shame, my dear friend shame, longs for acceptance, love, belonging. And Jealousy? Jealousy just wants to destroy, slash out, get rid of those people who get the resources I want, who get the care and appreciation I long for. The people who matter to my loved ones.
Wait a minute?
My jealousy actually tries to support a precious need? My need for care? For appreciation? To matter?
OMG
I could actually work with my jealousy, instead of against it? I could listen to it? I could try to understand the pain behind the jealousy? Maybe, baby, I could even ask it to help me formulate a request to relieve some of my suffering and meet my needs?
“Those with a coaching philosophy accept the expression of all feelings – including anger, sadness, and fear. In emotional situations, these family members often help one another solve problems and cope with difficult feelings.” (Gottman, J, The Relationship Cure, 2001, p. 145)
What if I take an emotion-coaching strategy with my Jealousy and empathize with it? Wouldn’t that change the whole situation?
You want to learn to coach your own unpleasant feelings? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Aug 21, 2015 | Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication
Unfortunately, we usually hear them as a message of wrongness of us, of who we are in our core being. We take the message personally and defend or doubt ourselves, or we withdraw within.
It is often easier to hear criticism, blame, and judgment from a stranger, from someone who is not that close to us. As soon as the message comes from someone who matters to us and the issue is tied to our sense of self-worth, we struggle.
How’s that?
Empathy with a partner, dear friend, or sibling when they express blame, judgment, or criticism is harder, because they are more important than a stranger. Their opinion of us matters more than the opinion of someone we don’t care about. We spend so much time with them, that they become our main strategy to meet our needs for love, acceptance, belonging: essential needs for our human existence.
David Schnarch talks about differentiation as “your ability to maintain your sense of self when you are emotionally and/or physically close to others-especially as they become increasingly important to you.” Differentiation would be very helpful to hear hard-to-hear messages more easily. Unfortunately, differentiation is not something that’s being taught at school.
Now what?
I offer two tips that can help you reach enough differentiation to hear hard-to-hear messages without too much upset.
Localize the criticism
Translate the negative message about you as a person into an event that is localized in time and place. Transform an evaluation of you as a person, into feedback about something you did. It is about, for example, the fact that you left without saying goodbye yesterday afternoon, instead of being judged as a cold and uncaring person. When you help your loved one distinguish between you and your behavior, it is easier to empathize with what they are trying to say.
Guess feelings and needs
We experience our shared humanity at the level of feelings and needs. We all know what it is like to feel sad, lonely, angry, disappointed, scared, ashamed, embarrassed. We all have needs for acceptance, love, support, understanding, safety, reassurance, connection, belonging, play, autonomy. When we move beyond the details of the story into the depth of feelings and needs, we develop a sense of understanding. We might even ask questions to better understand the other one: “Tell me what saying goodbye means to you?” “What rituals did your family have around saying goodbye?” “In an ideal situation, what would saying goodbye look like?”
Go practice!
I am pretty sure that these two tips help you to hear your spouse, child, co-worker share their hard-to-hear-message with more acceptance, compassion, and understanding.
You want help to listen with empathy to hard-to-hear messages? Contact me 512-589-0482 for a free, discovery session to see how I can help.
by Elly van Laar | Jun 23, 2015 | Compassion, Compassionate Communication, Empathy, Nonviolent Communication, Self-compassion
We celebrated Father’s Day at our Sangha last Sunday. We received a heart upon entrance. A red one if our father had passed away. A white one if he was still alive. I got a white one. When we started our mindful walking, we were asked to pause at the altar, wait for the mindfulness bell to ring, and put our heart on the altar, while saying the name of our father aloud.
Papa Four Days Marches, 2011
I felt so touched, that my tears needed almost a minute, before I felt calm enough to pronounce my dad’s name loud and clear.
It was a sudden awakening to the deep appreciation, gratitude, and love I feel for my father.
I am well aware how lucky I am with my dad. He is 81, in vibrant health, he has a keen interest in people, he easily walks long distances, sometimes 25 miles a day, he loves to learn new things and skills, he offers compassion and support to those in less fortunate circumstances, he laughs, listens, and shares his insights.
Not all of us are that lucky. Some of us had dads who drank too much. Some of us had dads who lost interest in connection and life. Some of us had dads who needed more support than they could give.
If your dad was like that, it might be hard to celebrate Father’s Day. You might have sadness, grief, sorrow, anger that your dad didn’t show up in a way that worked for you.
It might help you if you see all behavior as an attempt to meet beautiful, universal, human needs and painful behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs. To see the little boy in the adult. A child who needed as much acceptance, love, belonging, understanding, and support as you do and who might have received as little as you did. Your dad probably just tried to support his needs, and maybe even yours, in circumstances that were not his choosing. That doesn’t make him a shitty person, it makes him a human being with painful behavior.
When you see behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs, you might be able to hold your own unmet needs with care, and his behavior with more compassion. And if you receive enough empathy and compassion for your pain, you might even open up to some appreciation for something he did for you, however small.
You want help to practice seeing painful behavior as a tragic expression of unmet needs? CONTACT ME 512-589-0482 for a free discovery session to see if I can help you.
I recognize all those thoughts as us-versus-them thinking. Right-wrong. Better-worse. More compassionate versus less compassionate (ouch, how can I think that as a student of Thich Nhat Hanh?).
