Working Meditation

Observations on Human Connection & Contribution

#110: Communication is an act of trust

Communication training is now a cottage industry. We’re no longer limited to places like Toastmasters that promote public speaking through practice. We now have many nuanced options; we can learn how to become an impressive Tedx speaker or get voice training from the guy who coached Bradley Cooper for his singing role. I’m sure we can all benefit from these skills. After all, most of us speak to communicate for a majority of our lives.

I’ve communicated across contexts and cultures and I imagine like everyone reading this, I have been successful at times and failed miserably at others. I’ve been called both charismatic and a wallflower. I’ve wanted to step onstage and also hide. I’ve been complimented on my strong voice and I’ve also noticed a tendency to suppress/muffle it when I feel unsafe. I’ve felt a hoarseness and physical constriction of a sore throat just by not speaking up in my normal volume and timbre. The kicker is that all this happened within the same year without me changing anything about myself. I had different experiences in different spaces populated by different sub-cultures and norms. 

My personal experiences point to a missing piece in all this talk about communicating well. My ability to communicate fully without holding back in content or tone was impacted by my emotional state and the receptiveness of others. Here are the combinations of inputs I experienced and the resulting outcomes:

  • I was in my element in front of a receptive audience: things went swimmingly.
  • I had my internal reserves and faced a difficult audience: I spoke well enough and powered through. This powering through felt like a one-sided attempt at communicating and didn’t feel good inside. After many iterations of this, I started feeling a burnout and lack of psychological safety.
  • I was navigating a difficult life event (I’ll call it event 1) and was faced with uncaring and combative listeners: I found it much harder to get the words out and just wanted to be invisible so I could recover.
  • I was navigating an even more difficult life event  (event 1 above + event 2 shortly after) and found a kind space and an audience primed for listening: I found my voice and confidence again.

I’ve given myself fully to a space, a team and a message with courage even when I felt an internal trembling. I noted that the trembling would disappear as soon as I found my voice. And it was often in response to the faces that looked back with an openness and a commitment to listen and engage. I’ve held back when I felt unsafe. No one was coming after my life but I couldn’t help but turn inwards.

So, yeah, I’m sure all these communication tools will help me speak better, hold an audience’s attention, command a physical space, and deliver a powerful message to change minds and hearts. But what I fundamentally crave is spaces of trust where I don’t always have to be perfect and self-assured to share the messages I need to share.

Not everyone has the time or money to get these communication trainings but we all have the ability to deepen our listening. Because naturally powerful speaking, that we all are capable of, is because of other people’s ability to listen and not the other way around.

So I’d like to offer this framing to capture the underlying dynamic we miss― communicating well is an outcome of trust. Trust that you will listen and create a safe space for me to find my voice rather than squashing me at the first wobble.

“Giving does not only precede receiving; it is the reason for it. It is in giving that we receive.”― Israelmore Ayivor, Ghanian youth leader, author and speaker

A couple of practices that have taught me how to listen better. Listening better will be a lifelong practice but I’m learning. 

  • Non Violent Communication (NVC): Developed by clinical psychologist Marshall Rosenberg, NVC is a communication approach based on principles of nonviolence. It is a method designed to increase empathy and improve quality of life. It is not a technique to end disagreements.
  • Theory U: Developed by Otto Scharmer and his colleagues at MIT, Theory U is an awareness-based method for changing systems. It’s designed to break through unproductive patterns of behavior that prevent from empathizing with other perspectives, which often lock us into ineffective decision making. One of the tools they offer is a listening assessment.
  • My meditation practice: Even though I am learning and applying these new tools as best as I can, the dots connected when I sat in silence.

#109: The two core building blocks for everything we create

There are only two building blocks for all that we do and create in life: what we get from nature (sun, earth, water, plants and animals) and, what we get from humans (attention, ingenuity, effort…).

That’s it! Only two core building blocks1 and this is not an exaggeration. Look around. 

As an example, I’ll list out the building blocks for planning my week using my linen-bound notebook:

  • Me
    • My body, time, attention; which are impacted by my emotional, mental and physical state
  • My planner
    • Designs that humans came up with, using knowledge passed down from others plus their own creative riffs +
    • Computers to design and exchange information; also built from a combo of human and natural resources +
    • Paper and cloth from plants +
    • Manufactured in factories that were built by humans using their creativity using resources mined from earth +
  • My mechanical pencil
    • Made of plastic, rubber, metal, graphite and clay. Each of these parts is an amalgam of materials extracted from earth.
  • Bought online
    • Used the internet, ecommerce and shipping infrastructures humans built using the same two building blocks repeatedly

I’m keeping it high level because we can double-click endlessly with just this one example and find these two core building blocks everywhere. Seen with this lens, every physical artifact of human life starts appearing like a fractal2, built from the recurring partnership between natural and human resources.

And what’s a core feature of these resources? Some of these building blocks are non-renewable (like minerals and time) and others renewable (like trees and human attention). However, being able to renew something doesn’t mean being able to renew it automatically or immediately. It means that replenishment is possible over time and under certain conditions. If we keep chopping that tree repeatedly or keep binge-watching Netflix day after day, neither tree nor attention will replenish.

So, given our absolute dependency on these two building blocks for literally everything we do and create in life, it’s surprising that we don’t hold them more sacred.

“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”― Wayne Dyer, author and speaker

  1. Nature is really the core building block because humans are also a part of nature. Even so, it made sense to call us out separately because we have an outsized influence on the planet.
  2. Fractals are infinitely complex never-ending patterns that appear similar at various scales. Snowflakes, tree branches, and coastlines are examples.

#108: The emotional dust of creation

We don’t create things all at once, fully formed. Whether it’s an organization, a community, a tiny human or ourselves, creation takes time and the build is always unexpected. That’s a big reason why we subconsciously hold back from creating anything new: it feels risky to invest emotion and effort and not even have the guarantee that this thing we want will actually happen, or happen the way we want it to.

If we make a plan before starting (which is always a good idea), it’ll orient us in the right direction and help take suitable steps, but it likely won’t reflect the nuanced terrain we’ll actually walk. That’s because neither the terrain nor our creation remains static. Both respond to our actions and the events in our larger environment. Similarly, we ourselves respond and change; what we thought last week or last month will shift a bit when we engage in the work. Finally, we never build anything alone. Ever. There are others right next to us co-creating and going through the same push and pull of change and creation. So we’re changing, our creation is changing, our co-creators are changing and the environment is changing. This happens simultaneously and repeatedly. This dynamic is called emergence, and it asks for emotional flexibility. 

The work of creating something new is less like driving a self-driving Tesla on a traffic-free highway, and more like walking a dusty backroad full of brambles alongside others. It’s never a cool and collected experience of just sitting back and arriving. We all get scratched, stumble, bump into each other and kick up dust as we walk.

To make matters harder, we regularly pass through invisible gates that change the scenery and the terrain. What we did before needs to be adjusted in unexpected ways. If we were too absorbed in the work of creating, we may not even realize that we passed a gate. That’s when the emotional dust peaks―we all scramble to make sense of the new terrain, run furiously into the brambles and each other, kick up more dust, and make it harder to see things clearly. 

Knowing this, what if:

  • In addition to drawing maps, we prepare for that dusty and brambly trail with unseen gates.
  • Instead of a heroic solo journey, we note others who walk besides us.
  • Our commitment isn’t to one specific outcome but to staying on the dusty path. We develop resilience, integrity, and might I add―joy, so none of us opt-out in favor of the cushy Tesla path.
  • We invest time in creating trust: holding a hand, mending a wound, or offering a sip of water on this twisty path.
  • Most importantly, we create the capacity to be ok with emotional dust as we blind each other with it.

“The mighty oak was once an acorn that stood its ground.”― English Proverb, Author Unknown 

It may not happen.
If it happens, it wont happen the way you imagined.
If it happens, it’ll be its own thing: emergent and separate from you, uncontrollable by anyone.
Bringing it to life will dent you and others in unseen places.

So, why do it?
Because you came with these fertile seeds.
And if you hold back, first the seeds will wither…then you.
― A little ditty, by Suparna

#107: Solid jumping-off points and soft landings

I have a window above my bed that my cat, Fern, likes to sit at. This window is designed for privacy so it sits high; half of it is above my bed and the rest above my nightstand. Fern uses the nightstand to climb up and my bed to come down. If I’m sitting on my bed and in her way, she’ll meow to get me to move over so she can land on the bed. Only recently did I really pay attention to this dynamic where she uses the solid nightstand to jump up several feet and the soft bed to land.

I think all living organisms instinctively prefer this approach, both physically and emotionally. We don’t take risks or make big moves until we have a source of stability to support us. After we’ve taken the leap and done this big or uncomfortable thing we wanted to do―the hard job, the birth, the exam, the race, or something else―we hope to land back in a place of softness, ease, comfort and nurturing.

I’m also just starting to realize that soft landings are what transform into solid jumping off points for subsequent leaps. That ease and stability (known as sukha and sthira in yogic philosophy) are not two separate things but an infinity loop where one transforms into another in an endless cycle. Wisdom traditions also point us to these opposing, interdependent and inseparable qualities that help us create: rest and activity, yin and yang, feminine and masculine, receiving and giving.

Well-being occurs when there is a balance between these opposing forces because we can have too much of one thing. Weirdly, by over indexing on one side we deplete our capacity to do more of it. Too much action and not enough rest means burnout which leads to stunted future action. Too much rest and not enough action means lethargy, and resting more just depletes us further. Our goal is a dynamic balance that we constantly adjust to remain roughly at our center.

Historically, I put a lot of effort on the “jumping off”, or masculine side of this equation; hoping that more action would create stability for my next action. I created very few soft landings and often felt compelled to jump harder, only hurting myself in the process.

“Among the half dozen or so things for which a man of honor should be prepared, if necessary, to die, the right to play, the right to frivolity, is not the least.”― W. H. Auden, British-American Poet

#106: In Service (India Diaries)

A friend’s dad is visiting Seattle from India and asked me if I was “in service”. By this he meant if I had a job. This is the vernacular of my parents’ youth. When I was growing up, people were either in service (i.e. worked for someone else) or had their own business. The various professions rolled up to these two broad classifications. I didn’t really ruminate on this as a child but I do remember absorbing the term “in service” with a sense that there was subservience and potentially powerlessness associated with this choice. If someone had asked the little me to pick between these two binaries of “in service” vs. “in business”, I certainly would have picked the latter.

The question from my friend’s father made me realize that I don’t have the subtle negative association to being “in service” anymore. In fact, I silently answered in the affirmative. Because I am in service of a vision and it doesn’t matter to my self-esteem whether I have to start my company, work for another organization, or learn new skills to be in service. The line of work then becomes a purely practical matter and not the main thing. 

I don’t often encounter this phrase when I go back to India now; we seem to use a more globally enmeshed way of speaking in our cities. Although I still hear a version, both in India and the States, when we refer to people serving in the armed forces or government service (so and so is in public service, or is a servicewoman). These are professions where we still acknowledge the potential for impact on other lives.

Nonetheless, there is potential for impact embedded in every single profession. How can there not be? Our work is what we do daily for decades. But potential just means possibility, and not certainty, until it’s catalyzed by a personal and resonant aspiration for impact. When that happens, we are service.

“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” ― Winston Churchill, British statesman and Prime Minister