DAYS 6&7/10 #plentyoftime
I’ve been learning about how to be a truly #empatheticlistener. As somone whose writing is often described as “deeply empathetic,” and as a woman whose friends often thank her for “being there,” it’s not easy to look at where my own listening skills come up short.
I process verbally *so quickly* and I have made a life, career, and #nameformyself on these three steps: assessing, problem solving, and taking action. In #shorstories that looks like assesing where a scene or sentences falls short, contemplating why (word choice? dialogue? a passage that should be backstory instead?), and making changes (stronger verbs? smarter conversations?) to effectively revise. In #rieparenting that looks like assessing a tantrum for what it is, reasoning my way to a response (ignore? move on? support? give choices?), and modeling that response with kindness and care.
But in partnerships, we lean on each other and show each other our best and worst selves. Here’s where we can flail, crash, tumble, toss, leap for joy, laugh, praise, raise up, fall down, lean in, and leap forward. When exhaustion, illness, grief, overwhelm, or any number of other factors is present, habit can take over. Including the habit to assess, problem solve, and act.
Sometimes, all a #goodhusband needs is to be heard. To have a partner who will crawl into that space of big, deep, long-standing feelings *with* him, and take a look around. No assessing. No problem solving.
Brace yourselves, fellow #typeA #capricorns. No #problemsolvingskills? But that’s what I’ve been rewarded for all my life!
The myth that time is linear leads us to believe that forward is always better. That through is the only way. But when we believe there’s plenty of time to feel what needs to be felt and let the universe come to its own happy conclusion, without keeping our hands in the game, something else happens.
Time expands. Breathing slows. Connection deepens.
And when I live in THAT space, oh boy do #toddlermoments like this one seem that much more memorable.
POP goes the weasel. POP goes the myth of linear time. POP. Pop, pop!