You know those people? The ones who just hold to an opinion or point of view because that's just what they think or believe and there ain't no way 'round it? The ones who are usually wrong?
Yeah. Those ones. I don't understand them.
I mean.. well, not that I can't exactly. I can sometimes comprehend what caused them to think that way. Perhaps they were exposed to information or experiences that caused that opinion. But things have changed now. Situations have gotten better, or disappeared, or what have you. Now, it's time for them to change, too.
I blogged about my wrongful opinion of buses about a month ago. Relevant, yes... but now I'm moving on to something bigger. Something better. Something a lot more important.
People.
I have this one friend.. at least, I think we're friends right now. I haven't talked to her much, but the last time I saw her we seemed to be on good terms. However, as far as I could perceive, that wasn't always true. I've known her for I'd say a good four or five years, and every so often something would happen... a word or look directed at me that would just have "I don't like you" written all over it. I don't know why. I've searched my brain for a reason, but I can't recall anything I've done. I just get that impression that she dislikes me - and I have no idea why.
I have some other people I know who I've heard say similar things.. "I don't like so and so." "Why not?" "I don't know, I just don't."
I know I also blogged on this once before.. but I was focusing then on the way that the disliked people feel when they are shunned for no good reason. Tonight, I'm on the other side of the line... if you don't have a reason, why are you continuing to shun people?
As far as I'm concerned, it's all about changing yourself. Changing your own opinion.
Even if you have a reason. Things don't always change, but that doesn't mean they can't.
Good example: fight between friends. Regardless of the reason, they no longer like each other. Both feel wronged, angry, hurt. However, what happens if a little time passes, some thoughts enter one of their heads, and they decide that they're going to apologize for their end of the argument? Or some new information comes to light, and things turn out to be considerably different?
What if someone tries to make it right, but the other persists in disliking them, and rejects their advances toward repairing and rebuilding the relationship?
My own personal example:
When I was younger, I had a substitute teacher for one of my elective classes. She was younger and although great at what she teaching, as far as I know wasn't an actual teacher. That doesn't matter so much. What does matter is that one class, I got there just in time for it to start, according to the school's clock. However, said teacher pulled out her cell phone and said, "You're late." My friend looked at her watch, and according to it, I was early. I tried to explain that the clock in the school, as opposed to the one in the room in the church we were using, said I was on time, as did my friend's watch. I probably wasn't as polite as I could've been, but I generally try to be respectful, and I remember being angry but trying to communicate without being rude. However, according to Teacher, I was late and therefore was punished with lines.
I was furious. I moved to the corner of the room, finished writing them out, and stretched by myself - refusing to rejoin when I was asked to; not until I was ready. Although, I don't think I was ready. I think I just sucked it up and did it.
I never did like that girl again. She was quite young, early 20's. I never saw her for years, but whenever someone mentioned her name (she was an attendee of my church and quite popular among some of the older students and graduates of my school), I felt a repugnant shudder course through my body and streams of hate burst forth; that one incedent ruined any relationship we might've had.
Years later, I meet a guy in my Bible school class. He seems pretty cool, and although it takes a little while to get him to talk, we strike up a friendship. Imagine my dismay, then, when I find out he's married to that woman. THE woman. That young woman that gave me punishment I felt I didn't deserve. That woman I disliked probably more than anyone else.
Great.
However, he was cool, suave, chill. I learned that they were fairly newly married. I was confused, but I didn't tell anyone. How could someone who was that cool marry someone like her? Believe me, I thought about it a LOT. The idea slowly presented itself to me. She couldn't possibly be as terrible as all that, if this man I respected liked her, LOVED her, enough to marry her.
Fine. Maybe I was wrong.. she probably wasn't the witch I'd made her out to be in my own mind. I could handle that idea.. it didn't matter anyways, since I never saw her and didn't expect to.
Guess what. Wrong there, too. Who do you think was the person selected to teach us our drama for Africa? Horrible-memory-teacher-lady. Yeah.
However, I'd hope to say that I've grown and matured some in almost ten years. So, even though those disturbing feelings returned, I bit my tongue and made the effort to get to know her. Nobody else I knew disliked her.. she was friends with people I knew, and again, this dude I considered an older brother, wise, energetic, helpful, kind.. married her.
I had to change. And you know, I was right.
She isn't a witch.
I will admit that I can see traces of what made me dislike her that day, so long ago. However, if I choose to look at her as a friend instead of an enemy, they really are insignificant. There's a pretty decent age gap between us, so I've had a bit of a challenge in getting to know her. I'm still trying to set up a time to hang out with her and her husband, because I don't want to lose the friendship with the one, and I want to finish that cycle of rebuilding an opinion with the other. I want to fully and finally prove to myself that first impressions aren't always correct.
What would it take for you? Is there someone you just can't stand, or simply tolerate because you have the same circle of friends? Would changing your perspective... looking for something in common with that person... pointing out their positive traits... would that maybe gain you a friend you never thought you had?
Maybe it would even make life better for other people in your life.. nobody likes those awkward situations where two people who would rather not be in the same room get invited to a party or something similar.
Maybe you can be the bigger person today. Maybe you can change your world by changing the way you look at it. Pick someone. Now go try.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Double Sided and Dual Minded
The past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about duplicity. It started.. well, I'm not too sure how it started, actually; the thought came to a head when I went to update my other blog the second time. (Didn't know I have a second blog? Check it out: http://www.onionsandotherthoughts.tumblr.com/ )
This second blog was fairly recent in starting, and I update it much less regularly. It has a different purpose than this, and I have separated them entirely because of it. The other blog is comprised of quotes and passages that have made me think or mean a lot to me; it's got a different layout, different material, and a different webhost altogether.
This thought, duplicity, came to me, as I said, when I went to update Blog 2 a second time. I'm not too familiar with Tumblr on the whole, and I was having issues figuring out how to customize the look of the page, etc. Onions was beautifully color-coordinated (have you ever noticed it's roughly the color of onions?), the posts were nicely separated by title and easy to access, etc. The other was a bland, basic white page, with black words down the middle. Squished together and running into each other.
I felt like I was living two different lives when I saw this.
Imagine with me that someone visits this page, Onions, that you are currently reading. They don't know me at all, but they see a page built by someone who seems to be well known to the world of Blogger and posts often. There are comments throughout, posting thoughtful responses to thoughtful articles. (At least, I think they're thoughtful.. they take a lot of thinking through for me before I sufficiently know what my opinion is before I post it!)
Then, they somehow stumble, through a link on Facebook or something, onto the other Blog, Other Thoughts. While still having some good content, this person's opinion of the writer of both has just dropped a few points, because while Onions is well laid out and easy to navigate, this page, Other Thoughts, is devoid of color, personality, and any medium of organization. It's like I'm putting up a front on Onions, whilst Other Thoughts reveals the reality of a slovenly and roguish person who doesn't care enough to fix up the page that people don't visit as often.
That may not be true, but that's how I feel. Even after learning a bit about how Tumblr works, and changing my theme and appearance, the page still looks terrible to me in comparison with this. I feel like I'm somehow living a lie, one that I've created.
I know it seems ridiculous - but then again, does it? A blog might not be so crucial to your opinion of me, but it's not the only example of dual mindedness I've recognized in the past weeks. Two others, very common, have struck their notes in my sheet of music.
The first is that of the workplace. I posted a few weeks ago about how one of my coworkers may have left his family. Turns out it's true. He's reminded me of that on days when I'm not smiling and seem to be down, or just not the usual happy-go-lucky personage I've displayed for them. He's told me, "I don't know who I'm seeing... this is not Ashleigh." We've had a few conversations about leaving our outside life baggage at the door when we come to work.
In a way, it's true. The Ashleigh that strides through the door nowadays is not the same Ashleigh that did when I first started - but it's also true that I really have nothing to leave at the door. It simply is that the novelty has worn off for me. I still like my job and I love the people at work, but I'm just not as excited to go anymore, and it takes more effort to find something to make my day as enjoyable and exciting as it was before. It doesn't come as often, and for that reason, they don't see the me they used to see nearly as much.
Second example is that of Christmas itself. I'm sure you yourself are a little more stressed out about gifts, money, family plans, and all the other details of the holiday season than you probably let on. It is our habitual cultural norm to smile through clenched teeth when asked if we're looking forward to Christmas and say, "Why, of course! Who isn't?" You may actually be looking forward to it, and I hope you are, but Christmas is never simple enough to allow for the stress free answer that the television paints as reality.
When Christmas finally does come, so do the subtle untruths about gifts received that really don't do much for you, but you can't offend the giver. Or that family member you're upset with and have to pretend you're their best friend when seated beside them at the Christmas dinner table. Or traditions that clash, because half the family doesn't believe in Christ, or opens their gifts before breakfast as opposed to after.
I'm aware that this isn't Christmas for everyone, but I'd be willing to bet that it is, at least partially, for more than just two or three. If this isn't you, you are blessed - give thanks. :) For the rest of us.. what can we do about it? That's what I've been wondering.
These are my thoughts. What counts as duplicity - and when is it okay? There are moments where we have to withhold our opinions, to fake it until we make it, whether it be Christmas, a barbeque at the boss' house.. we all have times where it just won't do to say what we're really thinking. But some days are embossed in shades of grey. What draws the line? When it is safe to really be the people we feel like? If we don't, does it mean we're lying, scheming, underhanded ruffians; or are we just trying to save face - both ours and others'?
Will it change your opinion of me to find out that I have a second blog that isn't as pretty as this one?
I don't know. Tough questions usually require even more difficult answers.
This second blog was fairly recent in starting, and I update it much less regularly. It has a different purpose than this, and I have separated them entirely because of it. The other blog is comprised of quotes and passages that have made me think or mean a lot to me; it's got a different layout, different material, and a different webhost altogether.
This thought, duplicity, came to me, as I said, when I went to update Blog 2 a second time. I'm not too familiar with Tumblr on the whole, and I was having issues figuring out how to customize the look of the page, etc. Onions was beautifully color-coordinated (have you ever noticed it's roughly the color of onions?), the posts were nicely separated by title and easy to access, etc. The other was a bland, basic white page, with black words down the middle. Squished together and running into each other.
I felt like I was living two different lives when I saw this.
Imagine with me that someone visits this page, Onions, that you are currently reading. They don't know me at all, but they see a page built by someone who seems to be well known to the world of Blogger and posts often. There are comments throughout, posting thoughtful responses to thoughtful articles. (At least, I think they're thoughtful.. they take a lot of thinking through for me before I sufficiently know what my opinion is before I post it!)
Then, they somehow stumble, through a link on Facebook or something, onto the other Blog, Other Thoughts. While still having some good content, this person's opinion of the writer of both has just dropped a few points, because while Onions is well laid out and easy to navigate, this page, Other Thoughts, is devoid of color, personality, and any medium of organization. It's like I'm putting up a front on Onions, whilst Other Thoughts reveals the reality of a slovenly and roguish person who doesn't care enough to fix up the page that people don't visit as often.
That may not be true, but that's how I feel. Even after learning a bit about how Tumblr works, and changing my theme and appearance, the page still looks terrible to me in comparison with this. I feel like I'm somehow living a lie, one that I've created.
I know it seems ridiculous - but then again, does it? A blog might not be so crucial to your opinion of me, but it's not the only example of dual mindedness I've recognized in the past weeks. Two others, very common, have struck their notes in my sheet of music.
The first is that of the workplace. I posted a few weeks ago about how one of my coworkers may have left his family. Turns out it's true. He's reminded me of that on days when I'm not smiling and seem to be down, or just not the usual happy-go-lucky personage I've displayed for them. He's told me, "I don't know who I'm seeing... this is not Ashleigh." We've had a few conversations about leaving our outside life baggage at the door when we come to work.
In a way, it's true. The Ashleigh that strides through the door nowadays is not the same Ashleigh that did when I first started - but it's also true that I really have nothing to leave at the door. It simply is that the novelty has worn off for me. I still like my job and I love the people at work, but I'm just not as excited to go anymore, and it takes more effort to find something to make my day as enjoyable and exciting as it was before. It doesn't come as often, and for that reason, they don't see the me they used to see nearly as much.
Second example is that of Christmas itself. I'm sure you yourself are a little more stressed out about gifts, money, family plans, and all the other details of the holiday season than you probably let on. It is our habitual cultural norm to smile through clenched teeth when asked if we're looking forward to Christmas and say, "Why, of course! Who isn't?" You may actually be looking forward to it, and I hope you are, but Christmas is never simple enough to allow for the stress free answer that the television paints as reality.
When Christmas finally does come, so do the subtle untruths about gifts received that really don't do much for you, but you can't offend the giver. Or that family member you're upset with and have to pretend you're their best friend when seated beside them at the Christmas dinner table. Or traditions that clash, because half the family doesn't believe in Christ, or opens their gifts before breakfast as opposed to after.
I'm aware that this isn't Christmas for everyone, but I'd be willing to bet that it is, at least partially, for more than just two or three. If this isn't you, you are blessed - give thanks. :) For the rest of us.. what can we do about it? That's what I've been wondering.
These are my thoughts. What counts as duplicity - and when is it okay? There are moments where we have to withhold our opinions, to fake it until we make it, whether it be Christmas, a barbeque at the boss' house.. we all have times where it just won't do to say what we're really thinking. But some days are embossed in shades of grey. What draws the line? When it is safe to really be the people we feel like? If we don't, does it mean we're lying, scheming, underhanded ruffians; or are we just trying to save face - both ours and others'?
Will it change your opinion of me to find out that I have a second blog that isn't as pretty as this one?
I don't know. Tough questions usually require even more difficult answers.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Patience Is Practiced
Twenty seven minutes.
That's the length of time that must transpire before my life changes permanently. It's not really a big change, but at the same time, it's a huge change.
I am celebrating my twentieth birthday in twenty seven minutes. Actually, make that twenty four, now.
For my birthday, there is a card in a washed-out peach color sitting upon my bookshelf. It catches my attention every time I look at the shelf, which means every time I enter my bedroom; the light, solid peach contrasts starkly against the blackened plastic covering of the particle boards from which my shelf is constructed.
On this envelope, there is writing. My name, on the one side. Ashleigh LaPlante. (Note, in passing, that my family usually does not capitalize the 'P' in my last name.) On the other, written on the edge of the triangle piece that opens the envelope, is written, "Do not open until Dec. 12th. :P "
This envelope has been occupying its space on my shelf for four days. Likewise, for four days I have been tempted, sometimes sorely as the day grows ever closer, to open it. I am quite sure it contains a birthday card; the question is, from whom?
I have my theories, but nothing is proven because the envelope remains unopened. I was telling my brother about it, and how excited I was to see the contents, and he suggested I just run downstairs and open it. Which I have thought about more than once.
But what should that tell about me? That I had not the patience to wait until the designated day, that I did not respect the wishes of the sender, whomever they may be?
I thought long and hard about why I wasn't opening it, and this is what conclusion I've come to. If I open this envelope, I have let my impatience overpower me. I have let a piece of paper dictate what I will do and when, because I couldn't stand to wait just a few days.
That is intolerable.
If I can't force myself to wait four days to open an envelope, what will happen in the future, when something comes along that I must exercise patience for? What if an opportunity presents itself, but because I haven't practiced patience and been faithful in the small things, I am not in the large? What happens if I lose said opportunity because I did something too fast, if the situation changes because I chose not to wait?
No. I am not one to allow a mere envelope to control me, to defeat my willpower. Better I practice now, with something small. Although important to me now, and exciting, it is relatively insignificant in the large scheme of my life, if you understand me. I will wait. I will be faithful in the small, so I can also be faithful in the larger.
After all, it's only eight minutes now.
That's the length of time that must transpire before my life changes permanently. It's not really a big change, but at the same time, it's a huge change.
I am celebrating my twentieth birthday in twenty seven minutes. Actually, make that twenty four, now.
For my birthday, there is a card in a washed-out peach color sitting upon my bookshelf. It catches my attention every time I look at the shelf, which means every time I enter my bedroom; the light, solid peach contrasts starkly against the blackened plastic covering of the particle boards from which my shelf is constructed.
On this envelope, there is writing. My name, on the one side. Ashleigh LaPlante. (Note, in passing, that my family usually does not capitalize the 'P' in my last name.) On the other, written on the edge of the triangle piece that opens the envelope, is written, "Do not open until Dec. 12th. :P "
This envelope has been occupying its space on my shelf for four days. Likewise, for four days I have been tempted, sometimes sorely as the day grows ever closer, to open it. I am quite sure it contains a birthday card; the question is, from whom?
I have my theories, but nothing is proven because the envelope remains unopened. I was telling my brother about it, and how excited I was to see the contents, and he suggested I just run downstairs and open it. Which I have thought about more than once.
But what should that tell about me? That I had not the patience to wait until the designated day, that I did not respect the wishes of the sender, whomever they may be?
I thought long and hard about why I wasn't opening it, and this is what conclusion I've come to. If I open this envelope, I have let my impatience overpower me. I have let a piece of paper dictate what I will do and when, because I couldn't stand to wait just a few days.
That is intolerable.
If I can't force myself to wait four days to open an envelope, what will happen in the future, when something comes along that I must exercise patience for? What if an opportunity presents itself, but because I haven't practiced patience and been faithful in the small things, I am not in the large? What happens if I lose said opportunity because I did something too fast, if the situation changes because I chose not to wait?
No. I am not one to allow a mere envelope to control me, to defeat my willpower. Better I practice now, with something small. Although important to me now, and exciting, it is relatively insignificant in the large scheme of my life, if you understand me. I will wait. I will be faithful in the small, so I can also be faithful in the larger.
After all, it's only eight minutes now.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Misconceptions
This may sound rather bigoted of me. As a fair warning, I expect as much. However, that's what this is about, so let's just barge ahead and roll with it.
Last week, I began taking the bus home from work (at the University, UBCO). Before that, my parents were picking me up.
Before that, I had an opinion on the bus.
I thought buses were dirty, despicable things; vehicles to be used only by what I considered city 'slum dwellers' for lack of a better term... people who couldn't afford a car, could barely afford a house, and had no other means of transport for traveling distances longer than walkable.
I had a picture, (in my defense, partially brought on by news stories about bus travellers) of creepy people who hadn't bathed in days, and ignored by and ignorant of the people surrounding them; tuned into music, absorbed in their books, asleep - people you generally wouldn't want to talk to. Not respectable, hardworking, regular folks.
Even buses themselves didn't escape my judgment. In my head, they were simply an effort by the city to help clear up congestion and give poorer people an alternative to walking. Hardly ever cleaned (who sees a bus that doesn't have mud and dust all over it when it's owned by the city?), inside or out.. to me, they were little better than filthy deathtraps filled to the brim with society's less than privileged classes.
Don't ask me where I got this image. As I said, it's been partially instilled from news articles, but I can't blame it all all those. Before last week, I'd only ever been on a bus twice that I can remember, so experience wasn't to count for it.. although stories from friends and aquaintances who were experienced busers certainly helped fuel the fire.
Regardless, given my beastly preconception of what a bus was and what kind of people partook of their services, I was naturally in for a rude awakening.
I was terrified the first time I rode it home.. and I turned into one of those people I abhorred in my thoughts. Staring at my cell phone as I surfed Facebook with it, refusing to look up and make eye contact with anyone, and desperately wishing for the ride to be over, I cowered and I'm sure everyone noticed. Luckily for me, I had unknowingly sat beside a coworker, and she deigned to speak to me, even though I was ignoring her (and everyone else) as hard as I could. Nothing has ever been so welcome in my life as the realization that I wasn't alone on this horrible bus on this terrible first day.
She readily answered all my bus-related questions and showed me how to make sure I got off at the right stop; in hindsight, as many of you probably know, it's not very hard. To one as frightened and uncomfortable as myself at that moment, though, it was as if a golden nugget had been presented to me.
I've now been riding the bus home for nearly two weeks. You have probably already seen that my perception of public transport has changed, and changed drastically. Firstly, the bus is not a germ-breeding ground. Although not as clean and comfortable as a personal vehicle (which would be nearly impossible) it is as clean as one could expect a large vehicle to be when hundreds of people get in and out every day and it travels all over the city.
I have met some interesting individuals, but none I'd consider especially weird or scary. I was duly surprised to see a woman dressed in a business suit and heels board the bus the other day. The piece of information that smacked me straight up in the face? People don't always use the bus because they have to, and they're not all poor and uneducated social outcasts. There's no parking at the university.. 2,500 spaces and 7,000+ students, faculty, and staff. Many of them are, like me, just trying to save money in parking passes and subsequent tickets because the passes are sold out. You probably just noticed the italics. Like me. That was the clincher.
I am not a uneducated, disheveled social outcast, and I'm riding the bus. That must mean that there are others who also aren't city gypsies, and simply find the bus a better option.
See? Told you this might be considered bigoted. But I'm not arrogant enough to refrain from admitting it.
I was wrong.
In so many ways. The worst of which being that I formed an opinion of something that really had little basis in fact, and a lot more in hearsay and imagination.
Do you have a similar picture in your head of something? A conception that you really haven't checked out, a something that you don't like, but don't really have good reasons to answer that question, "Why?"
I challenge you to challenge yourself to change the way you think about the world you don't know. You might be just as surprised, and just as wrong, as I was.
Last week, I began taking the bus home from work (at the University, UBCO). Before that, my parents were picking me up.
Before that, I had an opinion on the bus.
I thought buses were dirty, despicable things; vehicles to be used only by what I considered city 'slum dwellers' for lack of a better term... people who couldn't afford a car, could barely afford a house, and had no other means of transport for traveling distances longer than walkable.
I had a picture, (in my defense, partially brought on by news stories about bus travellers) of creepy people who hadn't bathed in days, and ignored by and ignorant of the people surrounding them; tuned into music, absorbed in their books, asleep - people you generally wouldn't want to talk to. Not respectable, hardworking, regular folks.
Even buses themselves didn't escape my judgment. In my head, they were simply an effort by the city to help clear up congestion and give poorer people an alternative to walking. Hardly ever cleaned (who sees a bus that doesn't have mud and dust all over it when it's owned by the city?), inside or out.. to me, they were little better than filthy deathtraps filled to the brim with society's less than privileged classes.
Don't ask me where I got this image. As I said, it's been partially instilled from news articles, but I can't blame it all all those. Before last week, I'd only ever been on a bus twice that I can remember, so experience wasn't to count for it.. although stories from friends and aquaintances who were experienced busers certainly helped fuel the fire.
Regardless, given my beastly preconception of what a bus was and what kind of people partook of their services, I was naturally in for a rude awakening.
I was terrified the first time I rode it home.. and I turned into one of those people I abhorred in my thoughts. Staring at my cell phone as I surfed Facebook with it, refusing to look up and make eye contact with anyone, and desperately wishing for the ride to be over, I cowered and I'm sure everyone noticed. Luckily for me, I had unknowingly sat beside a coworker, and she deigned to speak to me, even though I was ignoring her (and everyone else) as hard as I could. Nothing has ever been so welcome in my life as the realization that I wasn't alone on this horrible bus on this terrible first day.
She readily answered all my bus-related questions and showed me how to make sure I got off at the right stop; in hindsight, as many of you probably know, it's not very hard. To one as frightened and uncomfortable as myself at that moment, though, it was as if a golden nugget had been presented to me.
I've now been riding the bus home for nearly two weeks. You have probably already seen that my perception of public transport has changed, and changed drastically. Firstly, the bus is not a germ-breeding ground. Although not as clean and comfortable as a personal vehicle (which would be nearly impossible) it is as clean as one could expect a large vehicle to be when hundreds of people get in and out every day and it travels all over the city.
I have met some interesting individuals, but none I'd consider especially weird or scary. I was duly surprised to see a woman dressed in a business suit and heels board the bus the other day. The piece of information that smacked me straight up in the face? People don't always use the bus because they have to, and they're not all poor and uneducated social outcasts. There's no parking at the university.. 2,500 spaces and 7,000+ students, faculty, and staff. Many of them are, like me, just trying to save money in parking passes and subsequent tickets because the passes are sold out. You probably just noticed the italics. Like me. That was the clincher.
I am not a uneducated, disheveled social outcast, and I'm riding the bus. That must mean that there are others who also aren't city gypsies, and simply find the bus a better option.
See? Told you this might be considered bigoted. But I'm not arrogant enough to refrain from admitting it.
I was wrong.
In so many ways. The worst of which being that I formed an opinion of something that really had little basis in fact, and a lot more in hearsay and imagination.
Do you have a similar picture in your head of something? A conception that you really haven't checked out, a something that you don't like, but don't really have good reasons to answer that question, "Why?"
I challenge you to challenge yourself to change the way you think about the world you don't know. You might be just as surprised, and just as wrong, as I was.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Conflict Resolution.
Conflict.
con·flict /v. kənˈflɪkt; n. ˈkɒnflɪkt/
[v. kuhn-flikt; n. kon-flikt]
–verb (used without object)
1. to come into collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition; clash
2. to fight or contend; do battle.
Conflict.
It drives us. It hurts us. It builds us. It destroys us. It teaches us. It breaks us. It makes us.
Without conflict, our skin remains pasty and weak; the muscles of the brain are decrepit from want of use. Skills vital to continued and successful life are passed by; we learn not the importance of teamwork, problem solving, conflict resolution.
Conflict. Resolution.
Resolution.
res·o·lu·tion /ˌrɛzəˈluʃən/
[rez-uh-loo-shuhn]
–noun
1. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
2. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.
3. a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem, controversy, etc.
Resolution.
It heals us. It strengthens us. It reconciles us.
Conflict and resolution are linked - but conflict brings what resolution is not capable of - negativity.
I had my own opportunity to practice my skills at conflict resolution this week. A friend of mine texted me about my birthday and said some things about my idea I didn't appreciate. So I facebooked back with this message (word for word, nothing edited):
Hey.
I just wanted to let you know that I am feeling angry about the way you spoke to me over texting earlier today. I don't understand what made you do so, but I don't think it was necessary and I feel very disrespected, and I don't feel I did anything to deserve being treated like that.
Perhaps we had a misunderstanding. Could you explain to me what you were thinking?
Friend turned around and emailed me back with an apology and an explanation:
I'm sorry. I just think its kinda dumb inviting people like my dad and all the people on cheer. Those are my thoughts though. I dont really want to go if tons of people are going to.
I replied and explained why I made the plans I did, and invited so many people. To cut a long email short, I gave him three basic reasons.
1) I chose to go skiing because I love the outdoors, and because I don't care much for regular parties or dinner outings as forms of celebrating.
2) An open invite was a good way to ensure I didn't miss any of my friends, and gave them equal opportunity to see me, or to request a different time to get together.
3) An open invite also allows people who know me, but don't know many other people who may be there, to bring a friend if they should so choose. As well, by going skiing (where people naturally break up into smaller groups on trail), the situation is less awkward and stressful and more inviting for new aquaintances, and possibly friendships, to start.
He replied with a very simple and adequate, "I understand :D."
Yes. Point for conflict resolution. Which, in a word, is communication.
Communication.
com·mu·ni·ca·tion /kəˌmyunɪˈkeɪʃən/
[kuh-myoo-ni-key-shuhn]
–noun
1. the act or process of communicating; fact of being communicated.
2. the imparting or interchange of thoughts, opinions, or information by speech, writing, or signs.
3. something imparted, interchanged, or transmitted
The only way to solve a problem is to communicate - to share thoughts, opinions, and information. To know what others are thinking, and feeling, and why. To let them know what you're thinking, and feeling, and why.
As I quoted to another friend this evening, "Understanding breeds empathy." And a resolved conflict. Or, at the very least, it starts you on the road to resolution.
So practice up.
con·flict /v. kənˈflɪkt; n. ˈkɒnflɪkt/
[v. kuhn-flikt; n. kon-flikt]
–verb (used without object)
1. to come into collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition; clash
2. to fight or contend; do battle.
Conflict.
It drives us. It hurts us. It builds us. It destroys us. It teaches us. It breaks us. It makes us.
Without conflict, our skin remains pasty and weak; the muscles of the brain are decrepit from want of use. Skills vital to continued and successful life are passed by; we learn not the importance of teamwork, problem solving, conflict resolution.
Conflict. Resolution.
Resolution.
res·o·lu·tion /ˌrɛzəˈluʃən/
[rez-uh-loo-shuhn]
–noun
1. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
2. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.
3. a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem, controversy, etc.
Resolution.
It heals us. It strengthens us. It reconciles us.
Conflict and resolution are linked - but conflict brings what resolution is not capable of - negativity.
I had my own opportunity to practice my skills at conflict resolution this week. A friend of mine texted me about my birthday and said some things about my idea I didn't appreciate. So I facebooked back with this message (word for word, nothing edited):
Hey.
I just wanted to let you know that I am feeling angry about the way you spoke to me over texting earlier today. I don't understand what made you do so, but I don't think it was necessary and I feel very disrespected, and I don't feel I did anything to deserve being treated like that.
Perhaps we had a misunderstanding. Could you explain to me what you were thinking?
Friend turned around and emailed me back with an apology and an explanation:
I'm sorry. I just think its kinda dumb inviting people like my dad and all the people on cheer. Those are my thoughts though. I dont really want to go if tons of people are going to.
I replied and explained why I made the plans I did, and invited so many people. To cut a long email short, I gave him three basic reasons.
1) I chose to go skiing because I love the outdoors, and because I don't care much for regular parties or dinner outings as forms of celebrating.
2) An open invite was a good way to ensure I didn't miss any of my friends, and gave them equal opportunity to see me, or to request a different time to get together.
3) An open invite also allows people who know me, but don't know many other people who may be there, to bring a friend if they should so choose. As well, by going skiing (where people naturally break up into smaller groups on trail), the situation is less awkward and stressful and more inviting for new aquaintances, and possibly friendships, to start.
He replied with a very simple and adequate, "I understand :D."
Yes. Point for conflict resolution. Which, in a word, is communication.
Communication.
com·mu·ni·ca·tion /kəˌmyunɪˈkeɪʃən/
[kuh-myoo-ni-key-shuhn]
–noun
1. the act or process of communicating; fact of being communicated.
2. the imparting or interchange of thoughts, opinions, or information by speech, writing, or signs.
3. something imparted, interchanged, or transmitted
The only way to solve a problem is to communicate - to share thoughts, opinions, and information. To know what others are thinking, and feeling, and why. To let them know what you're thinking, and feeling, and why.
As I quoted to another friend this evening, "Understanding breeds empathy." And a resolved conflict. Or, at the very least, it starts you on the road to resolution.
So practice up.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Musings From A Fruit Fly
On Monday, at work, I was sitting down to my lunch in a small recess in the hallway, containing the elevator access, some lockers, and another door leading to a stairwell. As I do every day, I sat by the lockers, facing the hallway, back against the wall. I sit here, alone, for half an hour, because I relish the relative quiet it offers, as opposed to sitting and eating with the student population.
However, on Monday, it wasn't quite as peaceful as normal. There was a very aggravating fruit fly that was grating on my nerves.. which already happened to be stressed. It buzzed and flew around, but didn't leave. It could smell the apple core, recently abandoned on the floor with the other trash from my lunch, to be disposed of when I was finished... and it evidently wanted it as much as I wanted the fly to leave.
I raised my hands into the classic hand-clap position to kill the miniature annoyance - and then paused. The question flashed through my brain and seemed to cut to my very soul: "What right to you have to take life, even if only an insect's?" It occurred to me that even though I knew the layout of the niche in the wall we were currently sharing and well beyond it, that fly's entire worldview was comprised of the few centimeters in front of its pin-prick sized eyes. I remembered that although it knew there was food near, it hadn't any idea where, and was simply doing its fly-like best to find the thing that would give it sustenance.
The longer I sat and thought, the more I felt like I knew exactly how that little fruit fly felt. It was lost in its world, with nothing to guide it except a smell - one small hint, one small nudge in the right direction, to help it find its way amongst the huge airspace it was trying to navigate.
Likewise, I felt lost. Earlier that morning, the fellow who trained me when I was first hired came in to help me 'catch up'.. and he proceeded to tell me how I should be doing things, what was taking too long when I did it, and pointing out things I was missing. He was nice about it, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn't ever been there before. In the space of 15 minutes, he managed to reduce me to tears (I didn't cry, but my eyes watered when he left). He had made some good points, shown me some things I didn't know.. but I was also upset because I felt he was in the wrong in some ways. For example, the pace he set for loading and washing I feel to be much too quick, because the attention to detail is lost in the process, and in the six or seven racks of dishes he washed, I had to redo about 60-70% because they weren't clean to standard. I pointed out the first two or three things, and he simply said, "Rinse them off and throw them through again." I was dismayed and rather distressed about this method. To me, it makes more sense to go through a bit more slowly and make sure it's done right the first time. He has a small daughter, aged three and a half, and I felt like saying, "You wouldn't want to give your daughter a bath, but do it so quickly you had to bathe her again directly afterward." Obviously I didn't, but I was very unsettled as to how I should do things (do it his way, or keep going with mine), and as I said, I was upset.
As is my custom, I didn't react right away.. I like to think about things, and try to gain insight from as many angles as possible before I offer advice or make a decision. So, when lunch came, I went out to my little corner and met the small fly that changed me.
Tuesday came. I found out that the same fellow had moved Sunday, into a house a little over two blocks away from me - and had possibly left behind his common-law wife and small daughter. I didn't know that Monday, but hearing it on Tuesday made me glad that I didn't speak what I wanted to. Obviously he was under a lot of stress, and even though he tried to be nice and for the most part succeeded, I felt that frusteration with other situations in his life in his voice as he spoke to me.
After he told me that, I thought a lot more about that little fly. About how it only saw a very small percentage of the big picture. I knew how to get to the apple core, but to him, it was miles away and presented a huge challenge. Likewise, with my coworker, all I saw was a portion of the whole on Monday.. but I learned more on Tuesday.
It's like life. I have the opportunity to go to Europe in March, but it would mean collecting and spending $3,500. I want to go to Europe; I also want to go to school. I can't see the big picture of my future, but I know that the nudge in the right direction is there. I've decided to save the money for school - to me, that's more important and will open more opportunities.. maybe even a trip to Italy and Greece, to see the great landmarks of society past. Maybe I'll be presented with a different opportunity to see more and go for a longer time. Who knows? Certainly not I. However, I do know that every day I live will reveal a little more of that henceforth hidden painting titled, "My Life". I just have to keep trying, like the fruitfly, and not let the crushing hands of life's challenges crumple me - or my drive.
You have a life painting, too. Nobody can see the entire picture. Someday, however, it will become clear. Someday, you'll come to a point and just know that this is why you're alive, that this is why you've lived your life, this is what your purpose is. You'll only reach it, though, if you live like a fruitfly.
(And in case you're wondering, I compromised on my technique at work, incorporating some new things, and keeping some old. So far, I'm going faster AND the dishes are clean :) )
However, on Monday, it wasn't quite as peaceful as normal. There was a very aggravating fruit fly that was grating on my nerves.. which already happened to be stressed. It buzzed and flew around, but didn't leave. It could smell the apple core, recently abandoned on the floor with the other trash from my lunch, to be disposed of when I was finished... and it evidently wanted it as much as I wanted the fly to leave.
I raised my hands into the classic hand-clap position to kill the miniature annoyance - and then paused. The question flashed through my brain and seemed to cut to my very soul: "What right to you have to take life, even if only an insect's?" It occurred to me that even though I knew the layout of the niche in the wall we were currently sharing and well beyond it, that fly's entire worldview was comprised of the few centimeters in front of its pin-prick sized eyes. I remembered that although it knew there was food near, it hadn't any idea where, and was simply doing its fly-like best to find the thing that would give it sustenance.
The longer I sat and thought, the more I felt like I knew exactly how that little fruit fly felt. It was lost in its world, with nothing to guide it except a smell - one small hint, one small nudge in the right direction, to help it find its way amongst the huge airspace it was trying to navigate.
Likewise, I felt lost. Earlier that morning, the fellow who trained me when I was first hired came in to help me 'catch up'.. and he proceeded to tell me how I should be doing things, what was taking too long when I did it, and pointing out things I was missing. He was nice about it, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn't ever been there before. In the space of 15 minutes, he managed to reduce me to tears (I didn't cry, but my eyes watered when he left). He had made some good points, shown me some things I didn't know.. but I was also upset because I felt he was in the wrong in some ways. For example, the pace he set for loading and washing I feel to be much too quick, because the attention to detail is lost in the process, and in the six or seven racks of dishes he washed, I had to redo about 60-70% because they weren't clean to standard. I pointed out the first two or three things, and he simply said, "Rinse them off and throw them through again." I was dismayed and rather distressed about this method. To me, it makes more sense to go through a bit more slowly and make sure it's done right the first time. He has a small daughter, aged three and a half, and I felt like saying, "You wouldn't want to give your daughter a bath, but do it so quickly you had to bathe her again directly afterward." Obviously I didn't, but I was very unsettled as to how I should do things (do it his way, or keep going with mine), and as I said, I was upset.
As is my custom, I didn't react right away.. I like to think about things, and try to gain insight from as many angles as possible before I offer advice or make a decision. So, when lunch came, I went out to my little corner and met the small fly that changed me.
Tuesday came. I found out that the same fellow had moved Sunday, into a house a little over two blocks away from me - and had possibly left behind his common-law wife and small daughter. I didn't know that Monday, but hearing it on Tuesday made me glad that I didn't speak what I wanted to. Obviously he was under a lot of stress, and even though he tried to be nice and for the most part succeeded, I felt that frusteration with other situations in his life in his voice as he spoke to me.
After he told me that, I thought a lot more about that little fly. About how it only saw a very small percentage of the big picture. I knew how to get to the apple core, but to him, it was miles away and presented a huge challenge. Likewise, with my coworker, all I saw was a portion of the whole on Monday.. but I learned more on Tuesday.
It's like life. I have the opportunity to go to Europe in March, but it would mean collecting and spending $3,500. I want to go to Europe; I also want to go to school. I can't see the big picture of my future, but I know that the nudge in the right direction is there. I've decided to save the money for school - to me, that's more important and will open more opportunities.. maybe even a trip to Italy and Greece, to see the great landmarks of society past. Maybe I'll be presented with a different opportunity to see more and go for a longer time. Who knows? Certainly not I. However, I do know that every day I live will reveal a little more of that henceforth hidden painting titled, "My Life". I just have to keep trying, like the fruitfly, and not let the crushing hands of life's challenges crumple me - or my drive.
You have a life painting, too. Nobody can see the entire picture. Someday, however, it will become clear. Someday, you'll come to a point and just know that this is why you're alive, that this is why you've lived your life, this is what your purpose is. You'll only reach it, though, if you live like a fruitfly.
(And in case you're wondering, I compromised on my technique at work, incorporating some new things, and keeping some old. So far, I'm going faster AND the dishes are clean :) )
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