I live in an area where we interface with the homeless continually. I went through a phase when I gave money and let them tell me wild stories about children with chicken pox and the long sorted history of their substance abuse. That got them pounding on my door and begging to wash my car. I awoke each morning at dawn to two homeless men coming from opposite ends of the street with their shopping carts rattling and clanging. One of them sang "Home on the Range" angrily at the top of his lungs.
When we moved a few blocks away, I was determined to remain incognito. But I still walked the same streets. Turning away and not making eye contact, acting as if they were invisible, felt terrible. No speech seemed a condemnation. It felt wrong. Giving money directly was paying for their drugs or alcohol, and that felt like enabling. So I came up with the plan to give to shelters and food banks, but not directly to these people. If I went in a food place, I'd come out with a sandwich or coffee and give it to them, but otherwise, no exchange.
But I decided to acknowledge them, each and every one. Look them in the eye and respond verbally in some way, so they'd know I'd really seen them. If they asked for money, I'd say "No, I"m sorry, but have a good day". If they said "Have a nice day" I'd answer, "You too. Looks like it's going to be a beauty." Even in the car, yesterday, a guy was walking along the meridian with a cardboard sign asking for help. I looked over at him and mouthed "no" but nodded.
I don't kid myself they appreciate my sensitivity. Most of them are mentally ill and have little awareness of others. But I won't turn away from this tragedy of people out on the streets with no one to help them with meds or shelter. The police have become social workers, and I've seen them be very tender. But there is no structure to care for these people. It's a shame.
There is one very overweight woman who sits at the corner where my bank is. I speak to her every time, and after going through her getting angry at me, shouting, because I won't give money, she now exchanges pleasantries with me. She's one of my neighborhood people and I'm one of hers. We share a community. I admire the smarts that has her placed next to the ATM. I guess it must work out well enough for her. She's coping, and I respect that, and I'm rooting for her, even if I don't subsidize her.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: RIght Speech
The history of my family includes quite a lot of alcohol abuse. In my thirties, I went to AL ANON religiously. Hearing others speak at the meetings was healing. I also went to a few AA meetings to hear the abuser side of the disfunction. So when my brother, an alcoholic from age sixteen, courageously got sober after decades of abuse, I was proud of him. When, years later, he referred one time to making amends to me, I was startled, because I was still waiting for him to make amends, and longing for him to hear my side of the disfunction. How he'd scared my children, followed us like a stalker when we moved, said many cruel things and acted contemptuous of me.
I was stunned, because his idea of amends meant he forgave himself, without any curiousity about what he'd actually done to me. I had believed, from attending AA meetings, that I was supposed to fit in there somewhere in the process.
Now I can understand how hard it is to tell another something painful, and I might have to work up to it by trying out what I wanted to say to a friend and get their feedback first. Presumably, my brother had an AA sponsor. But shutting me out of the process left me as wounded as before, with no healing really possible. It is not surprising to me that a few years later he stopped communicating all together. I made him uncomfortable, not because I ever brought up what he'd done when he was a drunk, but because I was waiting. Still waiting.
Right speech involves allowing the other person to respond to you. If you can't bear it right then, take a rain check. Say, "I'm embarassed and ashamed that I hurt you, but I'm not strong enough to hear what I did yet." Then the other person gets to hear at least an acknowledgement of harm having been done. Bringing up a painful subject to shut it down is cruel.
If that is what would have happened to my brother, he would have been set back in some way by hearing how it affected me and my family, then, of course, first of all, I wish him to remain sober.
But our connection was broken. Words do harm. Controlling the words does harm. Sometimes the truth is we cannot move on in silence. We remain stuck. And in pain. It is sometimes necessary to say the words.
As Yvonne Rand says, if it's ten years or fifty years later, say it. Whenever you are able to, try.
I was stunned, because his idea of amends meant he forgave himself, without any curiousity about what he'd actually done to me. I had believed, from attending AA meetings, that I was supposed to fit in there somewhere in the process.
Now I can understand how hard it is to tell another something painful, and I might have to work up to it by trying out what I wanted to say to a friend and get their feedback first. Presumably, my brother had an AA sponsor. But shutting me out of the process left me as wounded as before, with no healing really possible. It is not surprising to me that a few years later he stopped communicating all together. I made him uncomfortable, not because I ever brought up what he'd done when he was a drunk, but because I was waiting. Still waiting.
Right speech involves allowing the other person to respond to you. If you can't bear it right then, take a rain check. Say, "I'm embarassed and ashamed that I hurt you, but I'm not strong enough to hear what I did yet." Then the other person gets to hear at least an acknowledgement of harm having been done. Bringing up a painful subject to shut it down is cruel.
If that is what would have happened to my brother, he would have been set back in some way by hearing how it affected me and my family, then, of course, first of all, I wish him to remain sober.
But our connection was broken. Words do harm. Controlling the words does harm. Sometimes the truth is we cannot move on in silence. We remain stuck. And in pain. It is sometimes necessary to say the words.
As Yvonne Rand says, if it's ten years or fifty years later, say it. Whenever you are able to, try.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: RIght Speech
I really resisted saying "I love you" back to my parents when I was growing up. I'm guessing I was a bit stuffy, hating hypocrisy and wanting to be completely truthful. That was back when I believed I could determine what complete truth was. So I didn't like feeling forced to respond in the devoted child manner if I wasn't "feeling it" as they say. Sometimes I loved my parents, sometimes not so much. I wanted to be free to say I loved them when I felt the need arise, though who knows if the need would ever have actually arisen. I knew darned well my parents loved me, it was a given. I knew I loved them. Why get all gushy?
There may be heavy convoluted psychology at the bottom of my stubbornness, like resenting my father's frequent travels or my mother's crystal clear disappointment in my looks and popularity, but frankly, I don't think I was that deep. I was wide and shallow. I didn't want to be forced to vow my devotion. I was my own girl. This made them determined to bend me to their will. And I bent, responding back I loved them, but not feeling it at all, in fact, feeling angry and trapped.
Is right speech not harming the hearer or the genuineness of the speaker? Hummm. I clearly didn't want to hurt my parents' feelings, and who knows? Maybe I needed to verbally affirm my love. I may even be a better person for it. But just in case, I'm mighty stingy to people whom I love with the "I love you" refrain. I don't want them to feel bushwacked, as I did. I want them to know I perfectly understand they might not be thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about me at that moment. And that's normal.
Now with my husband, if he asks me, "Do you love me?" I'm as liable to answer, "not right this moment" or "I was feeling that way yesterday when you took out the trash" as to murmur sentimental love words. He's used to it, and it doesn't seem to faze him. He knows I'm quirky and probably has his own theories on my excessive honesty. Wisely, he keeps them to himself.
To say I love you or not to say I love you: that is the question. Is right speech about honesty or not harming? I'd have to go with my inner child. I love you, too.
There may be heavy convoluted psychology at the bottom of my stubbornness, like resenting my father's frequent travels or my mother's crystal clear disappointment in my looks and popularity, but frankly, I don't think I was that deep. I was wide and shallow. I didn't want to be forced to vow my devotion. I was my own girl. This made them determined to bend me to their will. And I bent, responding back I loved them, but not feeling it at all, in fact, feeling angry and trapped.
Is right speech not harming the hearer or the genuineness of the speaker? Hummm. I clearly didn't want to hurt my parents' feelings, and who knows? Maybe I needed to verbally affirm my love. I may even be a better person for it. But just in case, I'm mighty stingy to people whom I love with the "I love you" refrain. I don't want them to feel bushwacked, as I did. I want them to know I perfectly understand they might not be thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about me at that moment. And that's normal.
Now with my husband, if he asks me, "Do you love me?" I'm as liable to answer, "not right this moment" or "I was feeling that way yesterday when you took out the trash" as to murmur sentimental love words. He's used to it, and it doesn't seem to faze him. He knows I'm quirky and probably has his own theories on my excessive honesty. Wisely, he keeps them to himself.
To say I love you or not to say I love you: that is the question. Is right speech about honesty or not harming? I'd have to go with my inner child. I love you, too.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech
Do I think or do I feel? Sometimes, when I say I think something is a good idea, I really mean I feel. It's easier for me to say I think, more detached and neutral, but if I say I feel, that seems to make me more engaged and also it's more personal. I've been practicing saying I feel lately, and doing so seems to change the nature of what I say. If someone asks me about my younger daughter's upcoming wedding and I say I think it's great, I'm an observer. If I say I feel great about the event, happiness is conveyed.
In my case, I speak and act more out of feeling and instinct that much thoughtful processing. I hope my actions are an amalgam of the two, but honestly, the weight leans heavily in the feeling end of things. I'm highly reactive, as many of us are. I'd rather speak out of measured response, and I attempt to have that pause that not only refreshes but keeps me out of trouble, but often I'm impulsive. I'm an enthusiastic sort of person, highly verbal, and social. I can lose my mind a little bit. Just being aware of my own nature helps me pause, these days. But sometimes the right thing to do is be impulsive and get caught up in playfulness and joy. So my now normal habit of caution spills over and acts like Jimmny Cricket to the wild and crazy me. Mostly.
For me there is a freedom in saying I feel. I own what I'm saying, there is no adversarial stance, as there seems to be when saying I think, and I'm invested without wishing the hearer to be persuaded to my point of view. I can't expect others to feel as I do. But sometimes I expect others to think as I do. It sort of takes my pronouncements out of the political arena.
I may feel optimistic about the A's baseball team, but others are free to feel despondent, or think they haven't a chance, given their recent statistical history. But those others are going to cut me some slack, because I'm not proselytizing or arguing. I'm just live and let live, and you can right me off as goofy if you wish.
In my case, I speak and act more out of feeling and instinct that much thoughtful processing. I hope my actions are an amalgam of the two, but honestly, the weight leans heavily in the feeling end of things. I'm highly reactive, as many of us are. I'd rather speak out of measured response, and I attempt to have that pause that not only refreshes but keeps me out of trouble, but often I'm impulsive. I'm an enthusiastic sort of person, highly verbal, and social. I can lose my mind a little bit. Just being aware of my own nature helps me pause, these days. But sometimes the right thing to do is be impulsive and get caught up in playfulness and joy. So my now normal habit of caution spills over and acts like Jimmny Cricket to the wild and crazy me. Mostly.
For me there is a freedom in saying I feel. I own what I'm saying, there is no adversarial stance, as there seems to be when saying I think, and I'm invested without wishing the hearer to be persuaded to my point of view. I can't expect others to feel as I do. But sometimes I expect others to think as I do. It sort of takes my pronouncements out of the political arena.
I may feel optimistic about the A's baseball team, but others are free to feel despondent, or think they haven't a chance, given their recent statistical history. But those others are going to cut me some slack, because I'm not proselytizing or arguing. I'm just live and let live, and you can right me off as goofy if you wish.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech
Perhaps I'm oversensitive about this, but commenting on a child's looks often has an unintended harmful result. From the time when I was very young I knew that when relatives called me "cute", that meant not pretty, and my brother, 2 3/4 years younger, was pretty, because he had red hair and green eyes. People fussed over him. My nine year old granddaughter is a redhead, and people touch her hair, compliment her, fuss over her. A stranger once told her her hair was a blessing from God. Now, I'm not saying that when the child is all dressed up you don't tell them they're looking "mighty fine", but 90% of our comments about children should be encouragement and praise for a job well done, as well as how well they've solved a problem or helped out. Because those are things a child can DO, no matter what the color of their hair and eyes.
Words like pretty, beautiful, gorgeous etc are usually not right speech in describing people. They're fine for paintings, landscape and flowers.
Because I knew early I was not pretty, as those words weren't used with me, I decided my power lay in my brain. And, thank goodness, I got plenty of praise for being smart. My currency was never going to be in my looks, as my mother's was, but in my mind. But that didn't heal the wound entirely, as I didn't feel pretty enough to attract the kind of guy I was attracted to, after about fifteen. I was funny, smart and had a singing voice, but I didn't have what the culture made me long for: beauty.
I refuse to help such a culture along. I KNOW what I value, and if something comes out of my mouth I try to make sure it is MY values, what I treasure in another human being. Compassion and generousity, kindness and joy in the world, these are treasured traits in a child or a friend. We should make our speech reflect what makes humans worth saving.
Words like pretty, beautiful, gorgeous etc are usually not right speech in describing people. They're fine for paintings, landscape and flowers.
Because I knew early I was not pretty, as those words weren't used with me, I decided my power lay in my brain. And, thank goodness, I got plenty of praise for being smart. My currency was never going to be in my looks, as my mother's was, but in my mind. But that didn't heal the wound entirely, as I didn't feel pretty enough to attract the kind of guy I was attracted to, after about fifteen. I was funny, smart and had a singing voice, but I didn't have what the culture made me long for: beauty.
I refuse to help such a culture along. I KNOW what I value, and if something comes out of my mouth I try to make sure it is MY values, what I treasure in another human being. Compassion and generousity, kindness and joy in the world, these are treasured traits in a child or a friend. We should make our speech reflect what makes humans worth saving.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech
As a parent, I witnessed plenty of parents denigrating their children, and it made me wince. I didn't believe in corporal punishment, nor did I condone name calling and ridicule. But from what I read today, there is a new danger with parenting: over praising your children. There has been impressive research that shows that children do better if they are encouraged to try a bit harder or redo a task done sloppily.
We went through recent eras where over praising was considered essential to the development of self esteem. Now it seems to have turned out that either the kids know it's often phony, or take it for granted that whatever they do is the best of the best. Now this research is goal oriented. Nobody seems to be saying that you can tell your child he's special too many times. It's behavior that we're speaking of, not the essence of your child.
Give her a hug and tell her she's the best. But if she's making little effort in a task, gently suggest she work a bit longer, or show her how to sweep, give her tips and give her five more minutes to do her best. Not be her best, she is already that, but do her best.
My foster granddaughter's mom was tearing her hair out because her daughter wanted to quit piano. She asked for my take on it. I suggested she cut the practice time, ask the teacher to give her less work, and then act as if there was no option to quit. Because, as I said to her, when she's fifteen and wants to audition for a role in West Side Story, she won't be able to compete for the role, because she can't sight read the music and she has no experience before an audience. As the parent you have to take the long view. Work is a drag, but it has rewards that can't be gained by wishful thinking. And yesterday when my granddaughter was practicing piano I sat right next to her and commented and asked her to play something again, tolerated all the tangents when she was playing Heart and Soul, and acted engaged. When I drove her home and we came in her door, she ran up to her mom and said she'd practiced, and "Granma really likes hearing me play and sing!" I have the time, as her mother often doesn't, since she has a two year old as well and teaches elementary school, to help make work rewarding.
And Right Speech, at that point is saying, "I sure do love to hear you play the piano! You're getting so good at it!"
We went through recent eras where over praising was considered essential to the development of self esteem. Now it seems to have turned out that either the kids know it's often phony, or take it for granted that whatever they do is the best of the best. Now this research is goal oriented. Nobody seems to be saying that you can tell your child he's special too many times. It's behavior that we're speaking of, not the essence of your child.
Give her a hug and tell her she's the best. But if she's making little effort in a task, gently suggest she work a bit longer, or show her how to sweep, give her tips and give her five more minutes to do her best. Not be her best, she is already that, but do her best.
My foster granddaughter's mom was tearing her hair out because her daughter wanted to quit piano. She asked for my take on it. I suggested she cut the practice time, ask the teacher to give her less work, and then act as if there was no option to quit. Because, as I said to her, when she's fifteen and wants to audition for a role in West Side Story, she won't be able to compete for the role, because she can't sight read the music and she has no experience before an audience. As the parent you have to take the long view. Work is a drag, but it has rewards that can't be gained by wishful thinking. And yesterday when my granddaughter was practicing piano I sat right next to her and commented and asked her to play something again, tolerated all the tangents when she was playing Heart and Soul, and acted engaged. When I drove her home and we came in her door, she ran up to her mom and said she'd practiced, and "Granma really likes hearing me play and sing!" I have the time, as her mother often doesn't, since she has a two year old as well and teaches elementary school, to help make work rewarding.
And Right Speech, at that point is saying, "I sure do love to hear you play the piano! You're getting so good at it!"
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech
My Zen teacher, Yvonne Rand, warns us not to employ the words "always" and "never", as they generalize and solidify our own self image, and close down possibility. All her students have learned to say: "Up until now, I've not been a graceful dancer", "Up until now I had little facility with math problems", "Up until now, I've not enjoyed parties".
Opening up possibility is good for us in so many ways. We are more willing to try things we are afraid of, as well as not labeling ourselves unrealistically. Remaining open and curious presents so many opportunities to redefine ourselves and others. It used to be called giving the benefit of the doubt.
Under the impression that a visit with a friend is bound to go wrong, I almost will it to happen. Instead, if I think over my own part in our last interactions, and change my speech and behavior even a just one tiny way, a new outcome may emerge. I'm not saying I have not decided, with certain friends, that the relationship is toxic and I'm going to move away for a while. That is an assessment that sometimes has to be made. But if I tweek my attitude, I've also seen an opening up in the other person, and especially if I'm firm with my boundaries, there can be a new ease.
I have a friend who asks a lot of probing, personal questions. This bothered me. For some reason I felt powerless to refuse to answer. I tried asking her questions back. No deal. It was a one way street. Okay, I said to myself. If that's the rule for her it will be for me, and then I will not feel so invaded. So I began to say, "I don't really want to talk about that", "you'll have to ask her yourself", "gee, that's kind of personal". The world didn't end, and neither did our friendship. And I discovered I did not want to trust this person with my intimate thoughts and feelings, most of the time. But, never say never.
Opening up possibility is good for us in so many ways. We are more willing to try things we are afraid of, as well as not labeling ourselves unrealistically. Remaining open and curious presents so many opportunities to redefine ourselves and others. It used to be called giving the benefit of the doubt.
Under the impression that a visit with a friend is bound to go wrong, I almost will it to happen. Instead, if I think over my own part in our last interactions, and change my speech and behavior even a just one tiny way, a new outcome may emerge. I'm not saying I have not decided, with certain friends, that the relationship is toxic and I'm going to move away for a while. That is an assessment that sometimes has to be made. But if I tweek my attitude, I've also seen an opening up in the other person, and especially if I'm firm with my boundaries, there can be a new ease.
I have a friend who asks a lot of probing, personal questions. This bothered me. For some reason I felt powerless to refuse to answer. I tried asking her questions back. No deal. It was a one way street. Okay, I said to myself. If that's the rule for her it will be for me, and then I will not feel so invaded. So I began to say, "I don't really want to talk about that", "you'll have to ask her yourself", "gee, that's kind of personal". The world didn't end, and neither did our friendship. And I discovered I did not want to trust this person with my intimate thoughts and feelings, most of the time. But, never say never.
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