Tough Conversations

Solutions Through Compassionate Communication.

What I Don’t Know CAN Hurt Me

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WHAT I DON’T KNOW (I DON’T KNOW) — CAN HURT ME (AND OTHERS)

We’ve all heard the saying, “What I don’t know can’t hurt me.”  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Imagine a 4-pane window.*  Pane 1 is “What I know I know.”  (How to speak English, how to iron a shirt).  Pane 2 is “What I know I don’t know.”  (Calculus, brain surgery, Urdu).  Those two pieces of knowledge are in my conscious mind.  If I let them guide me, I can keep a proper sense of humility and can make rational responses to situations.

 Below the line are two more panes, out of my conscious awareness.  Pane 3 is “What I don’t know I know.”  This is the land of happy surprises.  I pick up a brush and discover I love to paint.  I figure out how to make a soufflé without a recipe.  A forgotten memory or experience surfaces.  Or I just use my common sense or intuition to solve a problem.

But in resolving disputes, most of the trouble resides in Pane 4, “What I Don’t Know I Don’t Know.”  This is dangerous territory.  This may be (a) where we think we know something but it’s based on flawed information:  such as “Iraq has  weapons of mass destruction.”  Or (b) we accept current cultural assumptions or prejudices:  “Old people can’t manage their own lives.” (Read on!)  Or, maybe the most common example that bites us all: (c) “I know what someone else is thinking.”

Before I begin a tough conversation, it’s absolutely imperative to stop and examine my assumptions about what the other wants, how s/he will react to what I say, and what’s the best solution.  I have to swallow a large dose of humility and acknowledge, “I don’t know.”  Acknowledging what I don’t know shifts my thinking from pane 4 to pane 2 and opens a whole new realm of possibilities.

 To test your own assumptions about what a truly old person can do, take a look at this 103-year-old:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/politics/at-103-federal-judge-is-still-hearing-cases/2011/04/20/AFZHG4GE_story.html.   

As a retired judge, I leave you with a smile!

Carolyn Parr

*This differs from the “Johari window” which focuses on interactions with others.   We’re suggesting a tool one can do alone, a personal contemplative mind clearing, that opens new possibilities in a relationship or situation.   

Cf.  http://www.noogenesis.com/game_theory/johari/johari_window.html

ASSUMPTIONS

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We all do it. We can’t seem to help it.  We make assumptions when: (1) we believe something to be true without proof; or (2) we take something for granted.   Assumptions are dangerous, because they may be unfair and wrong. 

We tend to judge events and people based on our experiences. This can be useful as a shortcut when a situation is either unimportant or a quick decision is required. But often assumptions reinforce misunderstandings and lead to conflict.  Assumptions may be labeling, mind-reading, fortune-telling, and “should-ing.”

Labeling: (He’s sloppy. You’re lazy. She’d disorganized. I’m stupid.) Labels limit us and others. They reinforce negative stereotypes, discourage growth, and limit our ability to think creatively.

Mind reading: (She doesn’t understand how hard this is. He doesn’t care about my feelings. They don’t really want to help out. All they want is money.) We think we know what the other person thinks and ignore evidence that might tell us something more positive. If we act on this, without checking, we limit our opportunity to understand, and we limit the other person’s ability to change.

Fortune telling: (He won’t carry through on his commitments. If I say anything she’ll get mad. If I let her do this she’ll mess up.) Fortune telling sets negative goals and then lives down to them. It can be a self-fulfilling prophecy and an excuse for not trying.

“Should-ing”: (Women shouldn’t have careers. I shouldn’t ask questions. Men shouldn’t show their feelings. I should be paid more.) “Shoulds” come from being stuck in a pattern of “how it’s supposed to be” based on our own limited experience or other people’s expectations. They can lead to guilt and judging, rather than to creating new possibilities.

What’s the answer? Be aware, be transparent, ask questions. Let others see your thinking. Say, “I noticed ______ and it led me to believe _____.” Or “When you said ____, I thought it meant ____.” Then ask, “Is that right?”

Ask about the other’s thinking:  “Can you walk me through how you got to that conclusion? What did it mean when you said ____? How do you feel about ____? What leads you to think ____?”

The bottom line is: Be aware of your assumptions, and Check them out!
Happy New Year!

Carolyn Parr

Lesson in an Irish Pub

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We’d arrived in Shannon on 9/11, just a couple of hours before the planes hit the towers in New York. Now it was 9/12 and, like everyone else on our tour, I was still in shock.

In the pub restroom the only other occupant was a teenager, red hair in spikes, lots of piercings and a few tattoos. I looked away, certain she wouldn’t want to speak to me. But she approached and asked, “Are you an American?”

When I nodded, she came over and put her arms around me, saying “I’m so sorry about what happened.” For the first time since I heard the news, I was able to weep.

That Irish girl’s care for me was both a gift and a surprise. I’d dismissed her, assuming we had nothing in common. But I was wrong. We shared our simple humanity. She was, in fact, an agent of love.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn as a mediator is to stop making assumptions. To suspend judgment. To be open to surprise. A good mediator needs to feel and to demonstrate what Carl Rogers called “unconditional positive regard” – even if people are rude or loud or angry. But how can one ignore bad behavior?

Mediation author Kenneth Cloke says, “I try to imagine what would make me behave that way.” Over the past eight years, in hundreds of mediations, here’s what I’ve discovered: most bad behavior is a screen for fear. If I can help another feel safe and respected, anger will dissipate. Generous listening becomes possible. The best impulses of each of us can emerge. We can begin to drop the assumptions and begin to really understand.

Carolyn Parr

MISSED COMMUNICATION

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In the Fumicino Airport in Rome, I’m checking in with my husband. The ticket agent helpfully offers to change our seats in Economy Plus so we can sit together. She says, “You’ll be in the center section.”
I say, “No, thank you. Now we have one aisle seat and one on the bulkhead row. We’ll keep the ones we have.”
“But you’re not together,” she patiently explains. “I’ll put you together,” she says, typing into her computer.
I’m starting to feel a little desperate. My husband is 6 feet tall and needs legroom. I’m slightly claustrophobic. We don’t want to be crammed in the middle section!
I try again, “We’d rather keep the seats we have. Please don’t change anything.”
She looks at me as if I’m a pre-verbal child. She slowly, patiently, repeats herself. “You.. are.. not.. sitting.. together. I will put you together.”
I get what my husband describes as, “an edge” in my voice. “We prefer to keep the seats we have.” She shrugs and surrenders. Finally.
What was there not to understand? I gave her a very clear message. Her friendly assumption got in the way. She saw an older couple, obviously affectionate, and assumed we would want to sit together. What she did not “get” was that we have been sitting together for 51 years and hope to have many more opportunities to do so. But on a 9-hour flight each of us would prefer to be able to get in and out without a lot of rigamarole. Men of a certain need to go to the bathroom more often than younger folks. I feel very uncomfortable if I cannot see a clear path of egress from some direction (an aisle or up front). We both are subject to leg cramps and need to be able to stretch and move our legs and feet. I didn’t want to have to explain our history, just to be able to keep the seats we already had.
The message here is this: when a conversation begins to recycle itself, check your assumptions and those of the other person. She might have simply confirmed that she’d heard me correctly. “You’d prefer to keep the seats you have?” would have worked. On the other hand, I could have thanked her for her thoughtfulness and mentioned our need to stretch. Maybe I lost an opportunity to affirm her sense of concern for older passengers and keep our seats.
Next time I sense a missed communication, I hope I remember that I have a role to play too.
Happy travels,

Carolyn