a peaceful resolution

Three communication lessons from a month of hospitals.

Andrew Lightheart — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 20:05:14 +0000

Exactly a month ago, I found Someone I Care About at the bottom of a flight of stairs, unconscious, in a pool of blood.

Long story short: there was no permanent damage.

The past month has involved blood, sweat and tears (mostly my tears – I’m an easy crier), three paramedic teams, three hospital wards, many many nurses, doctors, health care assistants, physios, social services people, many many phone calls, and much advocacy. And a lot of, well, hanging out.

I’m telling you this partially to explain (excuse?) my blog/email silence for the past month. Also, seeing as there has been a lot of high-stakes communication going on, I have, unsurprisingly, learned some lessons.

1. The people who stand out from the past month are people who talked to us as human beings.

Some people talk to you from their Professional Role. Sometimes that’s okay, sometimes it’s frustrating and dehumanising. The people we have written letters about praising, are the ones who spoke from their skills and experience, but who wore their role lightly. I’ll never forget the night in A&E when one of the nurses brought out his own shampoo and washed Person I Care About’s hair, then got out the machine their use to warm up hypothermic patients (the ‘Bear Hugger?’) to improvise a blow dryer. Or the nurses who aren’t overly brittle-bright with you, but just, you know, normal.

2. ‘I can only apologise,’ is not the same as ‘I’m sorry’.

For over-tired, scared, worried people with a grievance, a genuine apology goes a very long way. ‘I can only apologise.’ Yeah, no.

Also: If you try and get me to see it from your point of view too early (i.e. when I’m still feeling pissed off), you come off as defensive and closed. Just sayin’.

3. Listening can be a balm.

Actually properly listening, with undramatic empathy, is a gift. In all senses of the word.

***

In truth, apart from a couple of dramatic hours, most of the month has just been tiring.

Still, I’m still here and I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Sorry I’ve been so quiet. Especially you APRWF people – emails will start again soon, I promise.

A
x

***
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Need help with a difficult conversation?

Andrew Lightheart — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 10:26:26 +0000

Is there a conversation you’ve been putting off because you’re not quite sure how to deal with it?

Something with your partner? Boss? Colleagues? Customers? A family member?

Go inside…

Do you need to:

~ Ask for a change in behaviour?
~ Say your piece?
~ Give bad news?
~ Broach an awkward subject?
~ Sell an idea?

Well, for £60 I’ll give you all my thinking on the topic.

(Well, as much as I can fit into 20-30 minutes anyway.)

You know I’m raising money to train as a professional mediator, right?

For every £60, after I’m qualified, I’m going to donate 60 minutes of my time to someone who can’t afford mediation but needs it.

I know that £60 is a lot to ask, so it might be nice for you to see some personal benefit too.

So… the next 5 people who donate £60:

1. Email me with a question about a difficult conversation. (I’ll keep it confidential.)

2a. If I don’t feel like I can answer it (if it’s outside my expertise, for example) I’ll refund your money.

2b. If I think I’ve got something to add, I’ll pace and ponder, then turn on my microphone and give you some things to think about, maybe some advice about how to handle the emotions involved, or tactics you might not have thought about.

All £60 One Hour donors will get access to the recordings, so I’ll won’t mention anything that could possibly identify you.

Then, as a One Hour donor, you’ll be able to hear the other recordings too.

All you need to do is go to

kapipal.com/alightheart

and donate ~~£60~~£59.99 (It won’t let me put in £60, so…)

Then email me : andrew@andrewlightheart.com

If you can’t afford £60, absolutely no worries. Every pound takes me closer.

If you can’t afford a pound, Facebooking/Tweeting/emailing the link very much counts as donating.

And if this totally isn’t your thing, please: there will be NO AWKWARDNESS.

I absolutely promise.

A
x

Jeez Louise, you’re not a robot. You’re a boat!

Andrew Lightheart — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 13:36:08 +0000

So, I’m beginning to get worried about this word ‘peaceful’.

I bandy it about. It’s even in my website name.

If we use it to beat ourselves up, though, I don’t think that’s adding to the ‘peace’ in the world.

‘I’m in this awful situation where I’m being treated pretty badly, but I’m suppressing all of my needs so I can be respectful of everyone.’

If we take peaceful to mean ‘calm’ and ‘kind’ and ‘respectful of others’ that’s cool as long as it means calm and kind and respectful to you too.

The mind think it can just choose to be some Fantasy-Buddha, and then gets to be disappointed and ashamed and guilty when it doesn’t live up to it’s unconnected-to-reality standards.

Making some weird Either/Or switch or a Peaceful Percentage Scale might not be the best way of doing this.

We need a new metaphor.

Maybe it’s more like a compass?
A barometer?
A direction you tack towards?

Yeah, maybe it’s like that. You’re sailing your ship, and you know the direction you want to go in, but it’s not a straight line and it’s not all in your control.

There’s weather and waves and winds and stuff. (What? I’m a city boy? What do I know from sailing?)

Sometimes the winds and tides and whatnot are blowing in your direction. Plain ‘peaceful’ sailing.

Other times, the wind is blowing against you, and there’s a storm.

You’re not going to be able to sunbathe. You’re going to have to work hard, and it’s wet and hard work and messy.

But you stay, mainly, in the direction you’re heading.

I mean, you’re not a hot air balloon, with no control.

But you’re a sailboat. You do your best. You adapt.

But 100% all the time calm? The sea’s not like that.

So cut yourself some slack.

And, you know, hoist your mainsail. Or cut your jib.

Oh I don’t know, be kind to yourself and stop beating yourself up for being human!

That’s what I really wanted to say.

Salutes.

***

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The real reason I’m crowdfunding my mediation training.

Andrew Lightheart — Sun, 17 Mar 2013 16:14:50 +0000

I was stuck on a 13 hour flight a while ago, on my own, with a broken entertainment system and an audiobook that I needed internet to unlock (thanks Audible) so all I had was podcasts to listen to.

My friend Natasha had recommended that I listen to Krista Tippett’s podcast about spirituality. Luckily I had downloaded a few onto my phone.

I love Krista’s podcast. It makes me think so much that some weeks I can’t listen to it because I know it’s going to shake me up so much I won’t be able to concentrate for the Thinking About Life it will provoke.

But on a 13 hour flight? No problem.

I listened to Krista’s interview with Brene Brown. Krista sends out a podcast of her polished, edited radio programme, plus you can download the unedited interview, which is often much longer, and often includes the ‘Hi can you hear me?’ bits. It’s great.

Brene is all about the vulnerability. I listened to both the programme and the interview, back to back. So much sense about how we try and hide because we’re scared of shame.

Oy.

So, of course, I follow Brene on Twitter.

About 20 minutes ago, Brene tweeted:

Vulnerability: It sounds like courage and feels like truth.

And I realised I’m hiding.

A while ago, I took Jen Louden’s rather brilliant Teach Now class.

One of the key moments was on a call, which for me in the UK was quite late in the evening. I remember sitting in the rocking chair by the bed, with the lamp and the laptop on.

Jen asked:

What is your lineage? Who did you learn from when you were growing up? That could be people you met, or it could be movies, books…

And, when I went ‘inside’, I realised that after my parents, the earliest influence for me was A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L’Engle.

It was my favourite book. I used to decide to re-read it, and then I would be in that world the whole weekend, mealtimes, everything. I would have only been eight, but I loved the sense of family, and going beyond the limits of safety, and fighting for the light.

And I remember thinking, without really knowing what it meant, that I want to be someone who fights for the light.

So, yes, I’m going for professional mediator training.

That will mean I can mediate pretty much any kind of conflict, including insurance liability, commercial claims, you know, proper money-based stuff.

And I’ve set up a site to crowdfund it. And that site is all clean and nice and yet and yet… it doesn’t feel like me.

And then, about 10 minutes ago, I realised I’m hiding the real reason that I want to do the training.

The real reason is I want to fight for the light.

Conflict seems like a whirling shadow that people can’t find their way out of.

As a mediator, I can go in and hold a clear, clean space to allow people to see the way.

It will be clothed in suits and office rooms and professionalism.

But really, it’s about honouring my eight-year-old self who wanted to be on the side of light.

I’m going to leave the Kapipal site as it is. Because, you know, all this might be too much for strangers.

But here I wanted you to know what it’s really about.

And let me be clear: I would love you to contribute if it feels right, but there is, from my side, no pressure whatsoever. Even if we’re good mates, online or in ‘real life’, as far as I’m concerned there need be no awkwardness either way.

Let me press publish before I go and hide again.
So now you know.

[Update (later on same day): Just realised this post tells you why I want to do mediator training. The reason I'm crowdfunding it is because I can't bloody afford it! ]

No related posts.

It is difficult to make difficult conversations not difficult.

Andrew Lightheart — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 16:55:06 +0000

So, I’ve been feeling uneasy about something for a while, and I think you might be able to help me think it through.

The thing about ‘difficult conversations’ is that it rather contains the idea of ‘difficult’.

So even if we find a way of making the conversations easier they still will be filed in our brain as ‘difficult’.

This: no good.

I’m thinking instead of ‘difficult’ conversations how about ‘high-stakes’ conversations?

High-stakes can still include conversations like negotiations, conflict resolution and giving bad news but can also include things like getting a refund, talking to strangers, or asking someone to stop doing something.

A conversation is ‘high-stakes’ if you feel like the stakes are high, that there is something important at risk.

It means, however, that just because the conversation starts difficult, it doesn’t have to end up being difficult.

***

If you’ve got other ideas, either of other terms, or of unintended consequences of ‘high-stakes’, email/tweet me?

Ta.

***

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Feelings. Complex little beasts.

Andrew Lightheart — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 20:26:52 +0000

This week we’re experimenting with being more aware of feelings, our own and other people’s.

(By ‘we’ I mean those of us on the A Peaceful Resolution Weekly Focus and Advance Discount List. The APRWF. Are you on the list? You should totally be on the list. Why aren’t you on the list? Jeez. Get on the list!)

Anyhoo, I was working away and wandering the streets of the town I was in. I always feel like I should pay at least an hour’s homage to the place I’m staying in before I flop in the bath and watch internet TV. And I needed crackers and houmous and salad and yogurt and chocolate and shaving foam. So.

I was wandering around.

The reminder came up on my phone ‘What are you feeling? What might they be feeling?’

I went inside and thought, ‘Huh, I’m feeling lonely and sad.’

So I wandered about with that for a while. Kind of asked myself The Sadness Question (‘What do I feel I’m losing?’) and it didn’t make much impact.

Then I felt inside again and realised I wasn’t feeling lonely and sad (well, maybe a little) but I was mainly feeling super anxious.

Cool!

Anxiety is fear, so I asked myself The Fear Question (‘What bad thing do I think is going to happen?’) and chased it all the way to the worst thing that might happen (it was a money fear), realised that all possible bad things were actually not that bad, suddenly stopped feeling scared and it was all good.

Extra cool!

Then, just to make sure it wasn’t a blood sugar issue, I bought a lemon and sugar crepe off the street stall and ate it.

Just to make sure, you see.

Message: Emotions – not always straightforward.

Ne?

***

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Sometimes we fight because we’re lazy

Andrew Lightheart — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 15:06:57 +0000

I’ve ~~read~~ listened some more to Thinking, Fast and Slow and a couple of things stand out for me that have relevance for our pursuit of peaceful productive conversations.

1. The automatic mind (System One) finds it easy to compare different things based on one aspect, but comparing several variables needs conscious attention (System Two).

2. System Two is lazy.

If you see Cox’s apples for £1.50/kilo vs £2.50/kilo, you automatically know which is the better deal. System One processes that for you, without the need for expensive conscious effort.

If, however, like me, you go try and compare mobile phone deals, it’s certainly not clear which deal is the best. This one has a 24-month contract, but 500 texts, and overseas calls are this much, but this one has truly all-you-can-eat internet, but you pay for the handset, but it’s a shorter contract and the reception is better and they promise 4G and.

Bleurgh. Conscious effort needed.

As far as I can see, knee-jerk reactions are the cause of quite a bit of friction and stress.

‘Well that’s just him doing the same as he always does…’
‘[Group label]s are always like that.’
‘She’s just being [descriptive term].’

Just. Always. Never.

Those are words that are used a lot, but are rarely if ever actually true, especially about human beings.

Move towards complexity.

If you want to get towards the truth of a situation, and bring things to a sustainable, liveable-with solution, you’re going to have to expand your appreciation for the complexity of the situation.

~ What else could be going on here?
~ How do they see their action?
~ What might I have gotten wrong?
~ What happened just before this, and just before that?
~ What else is going on outside of this context?
~ What labels am I using here, and how might they be inaccurate?

System Two: lazy. I meant it above when I said that conscious thought is expensive. Pupils dilate, heart rate increases, body tension increases, glucose is spent. Thinking is harrrd. Which is why we coast along on the judgements automatic System One makes for us.

But look at where that gets us when things get heated.

You want peace? Here’s where you start paying. In thought.

bangs Lydia stick

***

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Why mediocre conversations are good.

Andrew Lightheart — Mon, 04 Mar 2013 10:28:45 +0000

Sometimes you plan a conversation that you’re hoping is going to be GREAT! and it is. I remember when I worked as a training manager (another life) and asked for funding for some training I wanted to attend and the conversation went exactly as I wanted it to go. You ask your boss for a raise, or you go in for that sales conversation with that client or you tell him that you love him (not the client), or whatever. And: fireworks.

Other times you’re dreading a conversation and it is just as bad as you expected it to be. The other person does blow up, or cries or storms off. Also: fireworks.

It’s good to be prepared for these outcomes, to set up the circumstance to encourage one and mitigate the other. It also makes sense to be ready to deal with extremes.

However. We can get stuck between the dream and the nightmare. And most conversations are actually kind of a let-down. The memory of the extremes (joy and dread) live strong in our psyche, and set our expectations for what might happen in a particular interaction. (Movies and TV set those expectations too.) The ordinary interactions, by definition, make much less of a dent.

To get over the dread and pre-un-disappoint yourself, expect a range of possible outcomes.

Stress comes much of the time from resisting what is. And, much of the time, life is pretty undramatic. However, ordinary isn’t bad, it’s just what-is.

And if we expected the expected a bit more, we might actually find that we’re able to have more and better conversations than if we’re paralysed by the extremes.

Right?

***

Fancy joining my get-better-at-difficult-conversations experiment? Check out how to get better at difficult conversations for free. As well as weekly guidance, you get a free e-book, discounts, and, well, more. I know. right?

***

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Opening a space for dialogue.

Andrew Lightheart — Fri, 22 Feb 2013 16:33:52 +0000

In addition to my series of questions (Question!) on how to encourage quiet people to talk from yesterday, might I also suggest that there is also some thing slightly ineffable about opening a space for dialogue?

Difficult to lay out precisely (ineffable, innit?) but there are possible qualities.

Can there temporarily be…

~ a loosening of expectations.

~ a quiet allowing of disparate views.

~ a dropping of ‘team’ allegiances.

~ a letting go of past slights.

~ an appreciation of human frailty, where we are the same, us poor struggling creatures.

~ a sense that none of us has any idea whatsoever what we’re actually meant to be doing, just a bunch of half-formed certainties, and suspicions, and leanings, and thoughts and feelings.

~ an assumption perhaps that everyone (you, ‘them’) is doing the best they can.

Just a half-baked hunch.

***

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How do I get quiet people to talk more?

Andrew Lightheart — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 11:12:25 +0000

Dear Andrew

I think it will be best for all of us if the people around me are less reticent and talk about stuff more. But I am scared of risking the first step.

Help!

Andrew

(Heavily redacted-nay-paraphrased email from a Lovely Reader)

Hmmm.

How to get reticent people to talk more…

Rather than answers, lets go with some questions.

And feel free to think with each one: ‘Question!’ Beyoncé-stylé.

Q. How would you know they are talking enough? What would they be talking about, and how?

Q. Is this any of your business? (Not being sarky. Genuine question.) How did you come to the conclusion that it would be better if things were talked about? Are you sure you’re not just making decisions on their behalf, because not talking makes you feel uncomfortable? And, believe me, I know that one. I’m a talker.

Q. What might be stopping them from talking more already?

Q. What benefits are there for them in talking more?

Q. What risks are there for them in talking more?

Q. What benefits are there for you in them talking more?

Q. What risks for you?

Q. Do they ever discuss things in the way you’d like? Have they ever? If so, what do you notice is different about those discussions? A context? A topic? Particular people?

Q. When they do start talking, do you with your words and actions encourage that, or (unconsciously?) shut it down, maybe because they’re not doing it ‘right’? (Obviously, I don’t know you at all, so there is no slight intended here.) When you want people to change their behaviour, any any movement in the desired direction needs reinforcing in ways that are meaningful for them.

Q. Can you minimise the risk for all concerned by going for a low-risk topic?

Q. Can you have a conversation with them about talking more? No really, have you thought about actually asking them about this?

Q. Are you an interrupter? (I totally am, by nature.) If so, that doesn’t really encourage people to talk (apart from certain national cultures, terms and conditions apply.)

Additional, slightly inscrutable, thoughts

~ When you want people to change their behaviour, you go first.

~ Sometimes there’s mileage in changing ‘I wish they would x,’ to ‘I wish I would x’ and seeing how true the second statement is.

~ Speakers need a listener.

~ You’re the one who wants things to change, so it’s you that needs to be flexible. Can you come closer to their preferences for conversation?

~ Behavioural change is very often slow. Expect things to take at least 10 times as long as you think they ‘should’.

(If you’re ever coached by me, this is what it’s like, by the way.)

There’s more, but I’ve hit my 15-min-daily-blogging-time-limit.

Hoping I helped.

***

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If you were wanting to leave a comment, there are two things you can do now.

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andrew |at| andrewlightheart |dot| com

It helps if you put ‘APR’ (‘A Peaceful Resolution’) in your subject line, so that I know you’re a person not an evil spammer.