Hello at the end of an great weekend,
This past week a close friend asked me about how I seem to know how to respond to what someone says or just how to reply in a given situation. Let me preface my response with an honest disclaimer. I certainly have been know to put both feet in my mouth and chew vigorously upon occasion. And why that must get have been more the case earlier in life, it can still happen. On another front, generally speaking, from a young age, I’ve had the ability to come back with a quick retort that often leaves the hearer with no response, and quite often a look of disbelief. I must say it has gotten me in hot water on more than one occasion (earlier in my life most often with my mother). Even when I was in the academy I was (and still am) able to read others pretty well, allowing me to respond to a given circumstance or student in a way that is tailored to the particular moment. In fact, students have noted, “Dr. Martin, we’re never sure what is going to come out of your mouth.” That is a double-edged sword for both sides of that equation.
I remember asking a student if they took lessons to act as stupidly as they were. A remember telling a nursing student if the level of commitment I saw in my class was indicative of their work on a floor, I did not want them in my room. Both responses are tough and push, but both students came back to thank me. Conversely, I remember a student who cried when they handed me their accommodation for dyslexia. I told them to not be afraid, that just because their brain processed differently, it was no reflection on their intelligence or ability to manage college. They graduated four years ago with a GPA in the mid-threes. The number of students who came into my office, regardless of gender and used a Kleenex box or tissue were numerous. I learned to listen and offer honest and thoughtful advice. As importantly, I worked diligently to be honest and genuine with my students, and people in general, as possible. While at times my comebacks might seem instinctive, there is more than reaction that occurs. Over the weekend a former colleague offered the following after our interaction: they wrote, “Thank you. You are in my prayerful thoughts each day since you returned to Bloom. I continue to hold you in love and prayer. Although I never knew you personally, your work with students (some of my own) is legendary and that’s when you bloomed in my heart. Always kind regards.” I cried as I read it.
Over the weekend, I was honored and blessed to hood a Masters degree student who worked in the department office. As I look at the events, the happenings, the interactions I encounter daily, seldom do I merely pass them off as irrelevant, unimportant. Everything we do, each and every experience deserves our reflection, our introspection. What reflection requires is a period of silence. Often when there is silence we are uncomfortable, believing someone needs to say something, so speak up, some level of response. And yet restraint is a response, a thoughtful and oft needed course of action. While I am entirely capable of the quick comeback, the unexpected repartee, it seems more likely now I am inclined to remain quiet and ponder. Perhaps it’s merely I have more time to do so; perhaps it is because I am doing my best to avoid drama. As I noted with the above mentioned friend, I hope what I do offer makes a positive difference in the other’s life. I am more interested in providing something of value, something that provides a sense of support than merely making noise. Even as I write here, I am well aware that sometimes what I ponder creates some consternation, but seldom do I write merely to cause some discomfort. Even in my most ardent moments, my passionately partisan instances, I believe finding a middle ground, finding the positive in the person or perspective with whom or where I disagree is imperative. That is when being quiet is most efficacious.
Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Speak only if it improves upon the silence.” And the oft quoted Chinese philosopher, Confucius, also wrote, “Silence is a true friend who never betrays.” There is a conditional in the first statement with an if, but it can also be interpreted as an admonishment to merely slow down, step back and think. And when is it best to take a chance and speak when we might be unsure of the consequences? The summer I did my Clinical Pastoral Education, one of my summer colleagues gave me some unexpected feedback about a session where we were mutual participants. She encouraged me to listen more before speaking. As noted, that was unexpected, and honestly, not completely appreciated, but she was correct. Slowing down and listening is not something that comes easily for us. Too often we want to be heard; too frequently we have a need to interject. And just as repeatedly we fear the loss of being involved in a conversation or circumstance. Why? I think it is because the cacophony of noise that surrounds us is, in and of itself, overwhelming, frightening, and we believe we will be lost in the chaos.
I think I spent too much time dog paddling (and I actually do little more than that in real swimming) trying my best to keep my nose above the surface. As I evolved into a retired person, learning to be content, comfortable, with no schedule, with no regular requirements, has not been a simple progression. It is almost two years, and it is only in the last few weeks I have begun to feel some sense of serenity. It might be the first time in my life where I feel little sense of needing to be somewhere or do something. That is a very new thing, something I am still adapting to, but also feeling more capable of doing it. Somewhat like a introvert who can be extroverted, but worn out from the experience, learning to step back and be comfortable with silence, in my solitude, choosing to step back and not feel obligated to doing something just because I was asked, it is beginning to be more possible. I was speaking with a local clergy person this morning and we noted the idea of the clanging gong that reminds us we lose the opportunity to really learn about the other, to see the other clearly, to love the other completely. Amazing what the act of silence can do.
Thanks as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 