Not hoarding myself

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Ever noticed the difference a smile or venturing to say hello can make?

Plenty, in my experience. Take, for example, the Chinese woman who swims next to me Tuesdays and Thursdays. If I don’t say it first, she insists on offering a huge greeting each and every time we encounter one another. It wasn’t always so. I’d heard other swimmers complain that, when forced to share a lane with her, she created heavy waves and took up too much room. They hinted that, perhaps, she didn’t understand our rules … you know, the ones we Americans apply … the unwritten and, often, culturally exclusive, ones.

One day when the lanes were full, I politely asked her if she’d share. No problem. I smiled and said hello first. You can’t image the doors that has opened with her and others. Not only did we share, but we did so without hindering the other, even managed to enjoy the crowded quarters.

Ever since, we greet each other warmly and have shared again. I missed her for many weeks after the first of the year, though her husband would show up. Turns out she was visiting her home in Hong Kong for six weeks. We took up where we had left off. I don’t notice that anyone other than her husband and another Chinese couple speak to her. A fellow swimming friend told me they lived in her neighborhood, but she wasn’t certain they spoke any English. I know she does.

It reminds me of the time I traveled to Italy solo and was reticent at first to speak Italian. I felt left out and lonely, then forced myself to belt out buon giorno each time I  encountered anyone who would look me in the eyes: to the young man on the street in Florence, the well-builders in Chianti, the elderly woman at the market and the mother on the bus. Every time, I was warmly greeted just for having tried. It was a signal that I was opening myself to the world.

People complain that New York City is cold and impersonal. Years ago when my mother and I made a trip to view a Van Gogh show, a companion bus traveler gave us tokens to board. We were uninitiated and tried to use cash. The driver reciprocated her gesture, sailed through three stoplights and got us to the Met on time!

As an introvert, it’s not always easy to open myself to others, especially strangers. Children, however, are the exception. Creating that opening requires energy and confidence. I am not always in the mood to be so generous. When I am, the rewards more than make up for any effort.

Why is saying hello first so difficult?

Because opening to a stranger catapults us out of our little selves and comfort zone. Perhaps we’re too busy, in too much of a rush, are multi-tasking and didn’t even notice the other. Maybe we’re afraid or don’t want to bother, especially if we are merely visiting and will never see this person again.

But what a loss not to encounter the smile from a stranger’s lips if only fleetingly.

• What’s happens when I push myself to open to another, even a stranger, first?

• How many lost opportunities have I experienced?

• What has been the reward of such an encounter?

• What have I discovered is the best way to feel at home someplace else?

• What are the gifts of connecting with a stranger even for a moment?

all knotted up

in a tight ball

with room only

for my agenda

hardly

noticing

the man ready

to spend a smile

if only encouraged

with a few

warming words

or the woman

whose glance

I ignored

because I didn’t

want to engage

what of God was I

slighting in that person?

what of myself

was I hoarding?

Listening by heart

I am helping facilitate a retreat soon about spiritual companionship and, particularly, listening. That’s what speaks to me most right now about those rooted alliances.

In “playing” with ideas of how to actually emulate that listening as opposed to just discussing it, I think I may try out some activities this week on the children I regularly teach on Sundays in what we call First Day School.

They are usually game for anything. We even attempted lectio divina – an ancient, sacred reading of Scripture when you pause and deeply ponder the words and what may be between them for newly inspired meaning – that I felt was wildly successful.

I had encountered some doubt when I mentioned trying it with children among practiced adults, but I knew these kids would get it. I chose a passage about Jesus and children, hoping they could relate. At the end of the reading/meditation, I asked them to be still in their chairs and feel Jesus’ touch. They and I were mesmerized as they basked quietly in that embrace before I broke the spell. It’s an image I won’t soon forget.

I really feel like we don’t get enough practice or instruction on deep listening. In the era of soundbites, facebook and IMing, when would we?

I do know listening is one of my gifts and must have known it early on as I became a journalist. Of course, the writing appealed to me, but hearing and sharing others’ stories was the real reward. It was an honor to be the steward of those.

I could listen on multiple levels that pushed real meaning from a story, not just the facts, because that’s what I wanted to hear. One of the best tricks I learned was to faithfully conclude every interview with “is there anything else?” Often, that’s when the real story flowed.

In listening by heart, as I like to call spiritual attentiveness, I have had to retrain myself to NOT jump ahead to the next question or thought and not to question at all. Sometimes it’s only about listening. Obviously, we can’t turn off what the words spark in us, making us connect to them. Nor should we. The goal in this kind of endeavor is not to fix, give advice or relate our experience.

The goal of spiritual listening is to open ourselves to the words and experience of another – something for which we all hunger. This kind of listening we can practice anytime ... not just in a spiritual context. Try it; I think you will be richly rewarded.

[When we know we will also have a chance to share, the listening is easier. When it is all one-sided, it can become a task. It doesn't mean we stop someone midstream or that it is always even, but we should all be given the chance to share.]


• When was the last time I felt really listened to?
• How did that make me feel?
• When was the last time I really listened?
• To another?
• To nature?
• To Spirit/God?



Open my heart

that I may hear

not just the words

but what you,

dear Spirit,

are saying

in and through

this being,

this creation