Arguably, the United States’ greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, piloted our nation through some of its darkest days. His ability to communicate effectively is not only historic; it’s the stuff of myth. And … he struggled in his communication as a parent.
His eldest son, Robert, desperately wanted to volunteer to fight for the Union in the Civil War. Lincoln, having already lost another son to illness in the early days of his tenure as president, was equally desperate to prevent him from doing so. For that, and likely other reasons, their interactions were strained.
Whose agenda was wrong? Arguably, neither. Whose agenda would win? A professor of mine once said of such moments of conflict that “both win and both get a prize.” Ultimately, Lincoln let his son serve, albeit as an aide to a general, therefore very unlikely to ever see combat.
In the silent spaces of the moments between a very real father and son, no prize was seen. None were claimed. How often does this happen for all of us in our parenting? With our partner? With those we work with or for? A decision is made, a course charted, and yet someone—perhaps both—walk away feeling like losers, like something important was untouched, unseen.
In owning moments—engaging the truth of the present moment just as it is—you are intending something different. You are willing to touch, and sometimes even speak, the undeniable truths, the reality of your experience of the moment that can’t be argued, denied existence. Your bodily sensations are always telling you truth. Your thoughts may be rigid or distorted in their conclusions, but the thinking of them is a fact itself, a truth. Your emotions are true events. To own moments with others means that instead of someone winning and someone losing, both can win the prize of having their present-moment experience honored.
When winning and avoiding losing—when the "survival brain" is having its way with the moment—then we miss one another, we leave our truths hidden yet haunting the relationship. Unruly poltergeists lead to more survival brain reactions of “doing this to me on purpose” or “manipulating” or “hopeless” or “I’ll show them.” We hold on tight and play tug-of-war when we should be opening our hands, reaching out, and touching the fact of our equivalent truths.
Yes, someone may be in the wrong, someone may need to be accountable, one person’s line of thinking may be looney-tunes-distorted, or someone’s idea or solution may be more resonant with the needs of the situation. And yet, controlling … possessing … thinking, feeling, and acting as if we’re reactive-brain-possessed … is optional. Even if we or they “win,” how about if both truths, happening simultaneously, equally valid as a result, get a nod, a vote of “thanks for being a human being who cares enough to engage this relationship”? Thanks for being an equal part of this “we” in this moment?
Moment-owners make room for two experiences, two realities, touch the truth of all that’s actual, and, in so doing, open things up to what’s possible together.
Equivalence of experience is not only about skill but also about leadership. When you acknowledge other people as having a vital and real experience, it helps them sidestep the unskillfulness, the ridiculosity, and perhaps join you in unsticking the moment. It doesn't mean you agree with whackadoodle thoughts or actions. It means you agree they are a thinking, feeling, and self-protecting human being. Assuming and communicating that does wonders to snip the loops of the survival brain's reactive habits.
If Abraham Lincoln—one of the most pivotal communicators in American history—could struggle to allow equivalence between himself and his eldest son, perhaps there's hope for you and me!
References
Hayes, S. C. (2005). Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life. New Harbinger Publications.
The Truth-Talking Express
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04.12.2023
Arguably, the United States’ greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, piloted our nation through some of its darkest days. His ability to communicate effectively is not only historic; it’s the stuff of myth. And … he struggled in his communication as a parent.
His eldest son, Robert, desperately wanted to volunteer to fight for the Union in the Civil War. Lincoln, having already lost another son to illness in the early days of his tenure as president, was equally desperate to prevent him from doing so. For that, and likely other reasons, their interactions were strained.
Whose agenda was wrong? Arguably, neither. Whose agenda would win? A professor of mine once said of such moments of conflict that “both win and both get a prize.” Ultimately, Lincoln let his son serve, albeit as an aide to a general, therefore very unlikely to ever see combat.
In the silent spaces of the moments between a very real father and son, no prize was seen. None were claimed. How often does this........
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