Historical September–October 2024 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Being behind takes a toll, and it’s particularly costly when it keeps us from connecting with others. We’re Too Busy To Know “May I pray for you?” the stranger asked after I told him my name.
The room was crowded but fairly quiet, so I could easily hear him even though his voice was low and confidential.
My wife and I were sitting in the surgical reception area and I was waiting to be called for my surgery. “Tom,” I had responded although his question startled me a bit, “and yes.” Then he lowered his head, clasped his hands and said a small prayer.
He mentioned my name as well as that of a man sitting next to him, someone who presumably was also waiting for surgery.
I am not a religious person, as Angel Fred knows, but his kind outreach elicited a tear or three from me. What’s going on, I wondered. Why am I reacting like this, being so moved by the small act of a stranger. Of course, that’s precisely why I was moved. Because it was the small act of a stranger.
We live in a world of hurry. No matter how much we do, we’re never caught up. That’s true whether it is our duties at work or in the home, or knowing and listening to others. Indeed, our inability to hear and understand others – a phenomenon that happens far too often — is the focus of David Brooks’ new book, How to Know A Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. Brooks’ contention, one I have felt and lived, probably you have too, is that we don’t take the time to really know one another; no, we don’t make the time to really know one another.
He says, “… building a friendship or creating a community involves performing a series of small, concrete social actions well: disagreeing without poisoning the relationship; revealing vulnerability at the appropriate pace; being a good listener; knowing how to end a conversation gracefully; knowing how to ask for and offer forgiveness; knowing how to let someone down without breaking their heart; knowing how to sit with someone who is suffering; knowing how to host a gathering where everyone feels embraced; knowing how to see things from another’s point of view.” He continues, “No crueler punishment can be devised than to not see someone, to render them unimportant or invisible.” Brooks notes how he and his wife often return from parties where no one asked them a question. “How are you?” and “How are you doing?” do not count.
This lack of true interest in others has always been present and is always a concern.
To a degree we all exhibit it, and we show it more often when the others are different than us. Years ago, shortly after the killing of Michael Brown, we held an evening conversation with adults in the New City School community, and the topic was racism.
We began with hearing a panel of speakers who shared their views on racism.
This was followed by small group discussions, and then I asked everyone to come up with one strategy, one specific thing, they could do to personally work against racism.
There were many good ideas, and the one that stuck with me was from a neighbor.
He said that while he moved to the area because of its diversity, he realized that he was far more likely to nod at or greet people on the street or in the store if they looked like him, if they were white and middle-class. “I need to be better,” he shared, “at recognizing, making eye-contact, and greeting everyone.” I saw many nods of agreement as he spoke. Brooks divides people into Diminishers, those who cause others
to “feel small and unseen,” and Illuminators, people who have a “persistent curiosity about others.” When Diminishers meet someone, they immediately begin to assess, identify, and categorize.
In contrast, being an Illuminator begins by asking and listening.
He calls this a humble approach because we want to know about the other person. Humble questions begin with phrases like “How did you…,” “What’s it like…,” “Tell me about…,” and “In what ways…” Since reading his book, I’ve been trying to do this, and it has been interesting and fun. Think of the conversations that might ensue and what you could learn after you ask, “What experience in your childhood had a major impact on who you are today?” (Yes, this is much better than asking where someone went to high school.) Or “What holidays were important in your home and why?” The answers to these questions provide more than interesting information; the questions tell that person that they are valued and are not unknown. “A good conversation sparks you to have thoughts you never had before,” says Brooks.
I wasn’t asked a humble question in the surgical reception area, but the gentleman’s overture meant a great deal to me. Since my surgery – I’m fine, thank you – I have often reflected on that interaction and how good it made me feel. Fortunately, I’ve not been in any surgical areas lately, but I’ve made a point to go beyond superficial greetings and to ask people about their backgrounds, their interests, and their perceptions. Recently I was being interviewed for a podcast and as we were about to record, I said to the host, “Before we begin to tape, tell me about you. How did you get into creating podcasts?” He paused, his eyes widened, and he said, “Wow, no one ever asked me that before!” It led us to an interesting discussion that gave me some new thoughts. How about you? What happened in your childhood that had a major impact on the adult you have become?
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, September–October 2024.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2024_09.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
