Self-Awareness 101

Today's one minute writer asks the question, what basic course should be offered to all college students? Self-Awareness 101 was the first that popped to mind.

When I was checking out the possibility of going to college, a professor told the prospective students that the most valuable course he ever took was....typing. His colleagues irked at that. But his premise was simple. He used his typing skills every day.

The same way, self-awareness allows us to grow. Not just a few times, but with every encounter in the day. So much of the rest of our learning is to absorb, build, and catalogue our collection of facts. He with the most knowledge wins. But that's not quite true, is it? Society doesn't reward the most knowledgeable. Not if he isn't convincing. So how about a class on influencing others? But that has flaws, too. No-one wants to be won over by trickery.

We want to be engaged, honored, listened to. If there were a hole in the North American heart, it would be the great yawning desire to be heard. We're shouting loud enough, that is to be sure. But in the shouting we are not listening to each other.

Which is where self-awareness comes in. With every encounter, good and bad, there are two players. The "opponent" and me. In a few small ways I can influence an opponent to my point of view. Especially if I have taken the time to really understand what he is trying to say. Especially if I honor him by letting him know he's been heard. But the great power in my hands is to change me. I have total control over that...in theory. If I can walk past a pastry in the window shop, surely I can examine my own motives and scrub out found flaws.

Believe me, people can sense that strength. A self aware person does not lash out at every swipe. A self aware person controls how she responds. She looks for a better way. People feel safe around her, because deep down they know, even when provoked, she will be reasonable.

Now, just imagine a single class of college students, successful grads of Self-Awareness 101. Imagine thirty people who really listen to others and themselves, and are willing to challenge their most precious beliefs about themselves. Imagine what they can accomplish with those skills in a lifetime. They won't hit middle age with a huge wad of regrets, or perhaps totally unaware, hit middle age bewildered, unsure how they failed to grab opportunities?

Except we really must change the name. Self-Awareness sounds so...basket-weaving-hippy-space-out-there.

How about Aware 101? Or maybe "It's All Over Here", a day catching fish at Pike Place.

Computers Killing Social Complexity?

I watched a dating show where a team of coaches helped a young computer geek improve his chances. In his test date he was attentive and he had a charming sense of humor. His face and his voice though, was flat. He did not (appropriately) smile or frown. Here is an apparently intelligent man who was failing to display basic social cues. Was it because in his daily life he was mostly using a third party, the computer, to interact with others? The team coached him to be more engaging when meeting people in the flesh.

I wonder also what effect that computer role playing games (RPG's) might have on young people who might be missing social cues in the real world. After all, computers can only simulate human interaction. Their responses are programmed and therefore predictable. A good gamer will quickly work out what responses to feed a computer generated personality to get him what he wants. I've noticed a disturbing trend with my son, a dedicated gamer, to say whatever he needs to in order to progress as quickly as possible. In a gaming world, commitments don't matter. Once you pass a level, whether you lied to a computer avatar or not won't matter.

What if the flat world of computer gaming is preventing vulnerable personalities from developing a rich repertoire of facial recognition and expression? Might they be missing important social cues? Even worse, what if integrity to the computer generation doesn't matter, as long as the "right thing" is said?

Random acts of blessing a curse?

To give you some background, I travel a lot through the downtown core during the day. My staff are scattered throughout several buildings in the middle of Edmonton. My day is made up of meetings in different buildings, and I scoot several blocks down Jasper Avenue to get there. When I am late I use the bus, waving my transit pass as I fly by. From practice I've found the bus faster than walking, light rail transit, or car.

So I am late and I scoot on the bus, waving my transit pass at the driver. I ask him if he drops off at 107th. He does. The bus is mostly full, only a few spare seats. I sit down beside a balding man reading his book. I haul my own book bag in my lap for courtesy sake and take out my own novel. Space Opera, delightful escapism, borrowed from the library. The bus rumbles off, smelling of sweet diesel and wet sand. The man looks up from the novel and tells me gravely, "God bless you."

Alllll right.

I look him in the eye and say, "Thank you." There is a tinge of madness in the corners. I swiftly look away and absorb myself in my own book. I am swamped with a feeling of violation, and vow to explore those feelings later. I also take sly note that he is reading a hardcover novel, not a bible. Unusual for someone so socially forward, he's wearing i-pod headphones. My stop comes, and I rush back out in to the warm winter day, full of slush and people rushing to their own purpose, office towers dropping ice and a meeting to get to.

I make a whole bundle of assumptions about that man's random act of blessing. He's likely evangelical. I understand that history. I've been there myself. He's passionate and he has a sense of mission. Though he knows nothing about me, he considered his random act to be blessing, to be an investment in the world's spiritual bank account somehow. Perhaps he hopes that I would absorb his message and take my own spirituality more seriously. I have a definite impression he does so not for his own benefit but for what he sees as a terrible lack in our society. I am in need of reforming, dashgnabit. Me and the rest of the poor, lost world.

But I'm not lost and I do have a firm sense of where I am. I am warmly comfortable with my God. And I do have a strong sense of purpose that transcends the everyday. I, too, want the world to be a better place.

But he would not know that because he did not bother to know me first. In his mind I must be no more than a caricature, a cut-out that he could pull from the book he is reading. I am not a person, I am a sounding board. I provided a a vehicle for his blessing, but he did not bother to know or care if I was primed to receive it.

Where was I in that blessing? Does the blessing fall flat if it is not recieved?

The picture I borrow from a myspace feed, http://www.oneyearbibleblog.com/

Rethinking Silence

I might have to re-think my stance on silence. My church had a themed message on prayer and the power of hearing God in the silence. I, of course, raced through my to-do list in the quietness, preparing, planning, scheming for the coming week.

Perhaps I am wired too tight.

Anyways, afterwards the church encouraged us all to tour a fantastic interactive display to have us sit, meditate, and think. Most impressive was a blacklight tent highlighting the seven hebrew words for praise.

To bad I had to rush through it. I would have loved to have an hour to stop and meditate on each word.

Here's a link that speaks more of the seven words.

http://home.earthlink.net/~anointed.word/burton.htm

There's:

YADAH - hands to God
TOWDAH - speak the same thing (integrity?)
SHABACH - joyful and loud adoration (sports stadium enthusiasm!)
BARAUCH - kneel before God
ZAMAR - sing
HALAH - rave and be clamourously foolish (children shrieking in play comes to mind. How often do we cut loose like that?)
TEHILLAH - sing publiclly (I think)

Is it any coincidence that I was given a tortuous night of silence, and a few moments to reflect on it's significance, just before my church covered the same theme? A comforting thought is many of these praise themes are loud and raucous.

Silence

Last night the house was silent. It was silent and I could not sleep. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I flashed back to nights ten years past, the last time I was captive in a silent house, alone in the dark, save the familiar creaks and groans of a mature home settling in for the night. I did not like it then, and I was brutally reminded last night that I still don't like it.


I'd surely fail at hermit school.


Last night was a rare occurrence where hubby was out for the evening and cable was out. I was alone with the silences and my book.


My habit is to fall asleep with the television on. Terrible, I know, to let the TV in to the bedroom. But it does not keep me from sleeping. I turn off like a switch promptly at ten, reduced to a sleepy bundle of mumbles. Hubby is solicitous, asking if the television is too loud. I murmer that it is fine. He then happily turns to whatever channel I might not approve. I like the background noise, obviously. That powerfully came home to me last night.


In the evening also hubby is a constant source of chatter. He may talk about the car we might buy next, the pop culture topic he is obsessing over, when we shall do dishes next, on the state of our neighbours, the oddity of our relatives, when we might visit our friends again, what we shall have for dinner or where we go out next, or any of dozens of cares and interests that fill our days. Many days I only half listen, a book open in front of me, my replies reduced to hums and uh huhs. It comes to me that his chatter is a welcome white noise to cover the silence.


It was the horror of silence, ten years ago, that spurred me to join a dating service that led me to my hubby. In all my life, I've only lived alone those two short years, and I hated it. I'd gone straight from home to teen parent, and for the next twenty years, I worked on raising my children and growing up myself. But it was a great time, full of industry and life. I love the background noise of family.


I wondered last night, as I stared at the ceiling, in my abhorrence of silence, am I hiding from my own inner thoughts? I don't think so. I have a rich internal life, which hubby, exhasperated, persistently draws me out, "Hellooooo, are you listening?" I take the time to reflect, and to write down those deep reflections here. I don't think I am hiding from myself.


I do fear, though, that introspection alone is it's own danger. Perhaps I fear, in the deep silence, I might withdraw completely from the active, cheering, distracting clamour of daily life. There is a simple joy in just living. I don't want to forget that.

I borrow the cosy picture from Fredy's blog:
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=293448132

A Case of Excessive Courtesy

A reader of my blog asked me how I manage to accomplish so much. I gave her a list of reasons why I've ended up the way I am. Not all of the reasons or noble or pretty. There has to be an element of obsessiveness for me to do all that I do. I do so many things well, and I do so much, something has just got to give. My hubby would cheerfully give you a long list of my defects. Perhaps the quirkiest is my inability to keep track of simple things. I lose keys, credit cards, change purse, pens, lip balm, and mitts. Hubby says I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on tight.

I got caught out yesterday in a moment of absent-mindedness. The incident and the recovery is an example I think, of the Canadian habit of excessive courtesy. I have a theory, too, on why we do it.

I plan to go to the YMCA to work out after we are let out early on New Year's Eve. I've had an exciting week of physical activity, shifting files, and I am eager to keep the momentum going. I hop over from my secondary office to my primary to pick up my gym bag. The YMCA is right across the street from there. I open up the bag, and there are no gym shoes. Drat. I'd left them at home. Anyways, I go for my swim. Still burning with excess desire, I decide to finish off with twenty minutes on the recumbent cycle. I've cycled at home in my socks before. No harm, right? Did I mention I am wearing thick, day-glo orange socks?

I love thick socks. They cured me of a heel spur years ago, and I won't give them up. These socks are old and chunky, losing their elasticity. They were a poor choice this morning, as they bunched up in my shoes as I shifted files. I'd ended up taking off my shoes on the job so I wouldn't be walking on bunched-up cotton. Perhaps this old chunky pair are due for the dumpster.

Anyways, I am padding through the exercise room in my day-glo chunky old cotton socks. I reach the recumbent cycle at the end of the row, and I am pounced upon by one of the staff. "Excuse me", as he glances nervously at my feet, "Do you have gym shoes?"

I am mortified.

"I am so sorry. I thought I had them with me but I don't. Would it be all right if I went on the machine anyways?"

We jumble our apologies and our reasons together in a rush,

"Maybe this once."

"I won't forget my shoes again."

"You can't go over to the weight area."

"Of course."

"And the treadmill. I hate to think what would happen if you had an accident on the treadmill."

"I won't be going on the treadmill today."

"I'd hate to be responsible...just this once."

"I'm sorry to put you through this. I will be sure to bring my shoes from now on."

We agree I can have my twenty minutes on the cycle machine.

There was such a complex interaction of empathy and a desire to please in that short exchange. Neither of us wanted to dissapoint. He had his duty towards the safety of the members, of course. He had to confront me, as unpleasant as that might be. I wanted to avoid embarrassment and the extra chore of coming back another day through the traffic and storms. It got me to thinking how many times that week I'd heard strangers reflexively apologizing for the smallest things.

It seems to me the apology index went up as soon as our weather became brutal. Edmonton has finally been hit with cold and snow. This week also I finished "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" by Dr. Stephen Covey. It took me a year to finish the book because I got stuck on habit three. The third habit is to do those things you know would make the biggest impact on your life. Covey askes, pointedly, why we don't do them? Because it is easier to ignore the big things! My big thing is exercise. Surprise. Anyways, I made it past habit three and the rest of the book was a cinch.

Covey speaks of our need to build each other's Emotional Quotient. If someone's EQ is low, it doesn't matter how reasonable our request. Their reserves are depleted and they are in no frame of mind to grant requests. Covey impresses the requirement to "seek to understand" before we strive to be understood. This is habit five.

It seems to me a batch of tough weather takes a toll on us all. There's the planning of the trip and the coordination of errands. No-one wants to take the trip twice. There's the dressing and the bracing for the hit of frigid air. There's sweeping and shovelling and skidding and caution. It's like the entire community's EQ takes a dip with the thermometer.

It seems that in the midst of adversity, we make a community decision to be nice. To show extra courtesy. To be kind and polite, and if necessary, apologize where no apology is needed. Because we all know deep down that we need the boost.

Like a community of winter birds, huddling to stay warm through the dark nights, we help get through the cold together.

So that's my theory. Canadians are extra nice because we never know when we might need a boost. It's like we pad our guts with an extra reserve of warmth. By experience we know we are all in this together. The happier you are, the better off I am too.

The blogger, ACPL Kids hosts the picture above, "New Socks" by Bob Shea.

Pearl Grey

I found out a girlfriend is facing a very tough road. It's not path I would wish on anyone. For now we have each other at least, for a little comfort and commiseration. I mentioned my new theory about life, that it is meant to have dark and bright moments; that's the beauty of it. As an artist, I've learned that the brights are brighter because we have the shadows to highlight how beautiful the good bits can be.

My girlfriend laughed and reminded me that God might be listening. He might just help us get our wish. I quickly wished rather for the beauty of "pearl grey" in her life. She agreed, saying that one of her goals is to face her situation with "equanimity". What a fine word.

The beauty of monochrome brought to mind an image I saw out the greyhound window as hubby and I travelled back from Calgary. It was twilight, and the dimming light shaded the snowy fields with the same blue as the sky. I watched this deep blue form from ground to horizon, all the same, except for a faint line of shadow of trees. Beautiful. This picture is the closest that google granted me.

I am borrowing the picture from myspace.com/cynthiacv

Just today I got an excited call from my granddaughter and daughter about a sighting of an impressive grey bird that flocked in to our neighbourhood. While I was slaving away at work, they were taking a much-needed break at home. My daughter described a large flock of birds, brown, with bits of yellow and their heads tipped with red. "They have a nice call too, mom." I answered reflexively, "Cedar Waxwings. They come here for the Mountain Ash berries." There are very few birds who stay behind for the winter, and fewer still who travel in large flocks. I would say the birds are more a beautiful washed grey than a brown. They are another example of the beauty of monochrome.

http://blog.earth-touch.com/index.php/archive/tags/forest

Cedar Waxwings congregate to tough out our winters together. Chicadees, too, stay our winter in little flocks, calling out in their ever cheerful way where food might be found.

You can listen to the Cedar Waxwing's call here, and one of the Chicadee's calls here. As an aside, Chicadees have some of the most sophisticated calls in the natural world.

You might wonder why a bird would choose to stay for our winters instead of migrating south like so many others. For one thing, they have fewer predators to worry about. They also don't have to expend a great amount of energy on the trip. Instead, they focus on getting through the winter together, hunting out the best places to visit for their energy needs. It seems to me that a bird choosing to tough it out here would also by necessity be a community. And be as cheerful as it could be under the circumstances.

We need each other to cheer ourselves up, to keep going, to make it through. I had another incident today that made me wonder if our cruel weather is responsible for making Canadians so polite. I'll talk about that next.

When you realize you are in a pissing contest...

Get out as soon as possible! So goes the advice of Randy Pausch, the man of "The Last Lecture". In so many ways I can relate to this inventive, creative man. Like me, he managed his ambitions within a bureaucratic framework. He found his way around and through, and picked up a few arrows around the way. His nonchalance towards the arrows, I must learn. It comes with the territory if I happen to be someone who loves breaking ground.

So anyways, so much of what he said resonated with my own career. What is new is his attitude towards the barriers. He did not let resentment build. He used each barrier as a reflection of his own determination, and found new ways around them.

What is most revelatory for me was the above statement. "When you realize you are in a pissing contest, get out as soon as possible!" Why? Because the dream is more important than anyone's ego! Isn't that why I strive to break ground, over and over again, even when the aftermath may include a little pain, misunderstanding, ruffled egos, diminished opportunities?

So how do you get out of a pissing contest? What is your rival saying? What is their chief need? Have you expressed it back to them, letting them know you understand? In the last lecture, I think Randy asked, "What is it we are not understanding here?" He put it out on the table. He listened. And he helped his obstacle overcome his concerns.

For personalities whose chief interest is "return on investment" (I relate to the "Gold" personality in a color quiz), I have to address their fears and concerns. "Because it's cool and fun" just isn't going to be enough.

The "gold" card is borrowed from http://www.softskillsexpert.com/TrueColors/TC_About.asp one of the many color personality training programs out there.

Being Heard - Listening

Blogs are great for preaching...but is anyone listening? I yearn to have genuine, heart to heart connections with people. To be heard, and to listen. This feeling can't be unique. Why don't we all do it? I suspect fear of exposure is part of it. To be really understood means also exposing the ugly bits. Most people hide the ugly bits.

I've started making lists again. Calories, water intake, exercise. 5555 steps. 2638 calories. BP 111/76 (not bad!) Waist 46 (very bad).

I saw a nuthatch scrabbling down the bark of our tree. Upside down, of course. Now I can add him to my (new) lifetime list. Here are all the birds I have spotted or heard around the house.

http://www.treknature.com/gallery/North_America/United_States/photo51956.htm

Gulls
Sparrows
Magpies
Ravens
Cedar Waxwings
Chickadee
Nuthatch