Hush

Many of us have heard mothers croon the evergreen lullaby, "Hush, little baby.Don't say a word." Many have read the age-worn "Silence is golden" message on a library wall. If we look back at our lives and trace a line from the past to the present, we would probably find several positive associations for silence, including moments when we wish we had "held our tongues!" The case for observing silence periodically is quite strong - yet as we grow older, we find it is one of the hardest things to do!

The CEO of my previous company, a brilliant psychologist and interviewer used to say "Silence is your friend", when teaching us how to conduct an in-depth interview. When I first started exploring this concept, the notion seemed absurd. Silence? In a conversation? How is it a conversation if I am  being silent - or if the other person is? Isn't the whole point of talking about keeping the sound-waves going? What's the point of keeping quiet when you're supposed to open your mouth and talk?! 

And then it occurred to me that really, if I looked carefully at my most successful conversations, be they with family, coworkers, friends, just about anybody that I could think of - the conversations had been facilitated by moments when we gave each other the space to think, and speak. A quiet space. In these spaces, which an onlooker would describe as a pause in the conversation, the ideas being exchanged got the opportunity to sink into the minds of the people having the conversation. The ideas could be explored more completely, allowing the speakers to think and respond to each other's concepts and perspectives. Silence is indeed 'golden'. If you can find a moment of silence within a conversation or even in the stream of a busy day - you give yourself the  gift of time to reflect and rejuvenate your mind even in that brief moment.
Why then do we struggle with maintaining short periods of silence in a conversation? I think it's because we have an  automatized internal 'alarm response' to silence - the uncomfortable silence that we read about in books or watch on TV. Many of us associate silence in one of the speakers with resistance or blocks - maybe anger, disdain, confusion, disagreement - we assume that someone is silent because they aren't OK with the conversation that is taking place.

I'm working on using silence effectively in my conversations (I am by no means an expert on this!) and I'd love to share a few of my insights on how to use it with you:

• Silence facilitates conversations because it helps us listen - if you can give someone a shot moment of silence after they've spoken, you allow both yourself and them to go over the information that has just been communicated. Often, in such moments, the speaker will come up with another related idea to put before you. And you will also get an opportunity to examine their communication more thoroughly and come up with ideas of your own. All you need to do is consciously maintain a few seconds of quiet time after someone completes a sentence. If it's hard for you to do this spontaneously, you could try saying something like "I see..." or "Let me think about this for a moment..." or something similar to clearly buy a few moments of silence. I'm not suggesting that you stretch this into long minutes of speechlessness - just about 10 to 15 seconds is usually enough.
• Remember that silence is a powerful question - when you observe silence after someone finished speaking, it is an invitation for them to say more - it suggests that you want them to say more and are keeping the space open for them. I've seen this work in both face-to-face, as well as in-person conversations. In the latter case, you can add to the effectiveness of silence by using your body language to convey interest - e.g. leaning forward slightly, using your facial expression to communicate interest, nodding a little to encourage the other speaker to keep going. There's a lot that you can do without so much as going "Um hmm!"
• Try to avoid cutting through someone's sentences - it's hard for many of us to remain silent while someone else is speaking - we feel compelled to voice ideas in the moment they occur to us, even if it means cutting someone off while they are speaking. Interrupting someone conveys a strong subliminal message that you don't have the time to listen to their ideas or that you don't think their ideas are worthwhile.
  
  Have you noticed people speaking faster just so that they could finish a sentence before someone cuts them off? Or how difficult it gets to maintain a comfortable dialogue if both people are ceaselessly cutting each other off again and again? Have you noticed how you communicate and how you feel if someone doesn't give you a chance to express yourself completely?
  
  That said, sometimes it might be necessary to cut someone off in the interest of time, but if you do this, it's a great idea to do this with awareness - saying something like "I'm sorry to cut you off, but I just wanted to say this while we still have time..." or "Sorry, to interrupt you, but I feel this is a critical point that we should look at before we go any further..."
• If you are in a prolonged 'quiet space' in a conversation, don't be afraid to break the silence - but be aware of whether you are breaking it to help the conversation progress with richer exchanges of information, or because you are uncomfortable with the silence and want to say something for the heck of it! This awareness is key to using silence effectively. Keep asking yourself why you are speaking and try and speak when you are happy with the answer.
  
  Be aware of the tone and body language of the other speaker to judge when they're done expressing an idea and would like to hear from you.
• Start by getting comfortable with silence - try to give yourself a bit of quiet time everyday, without anyone to speak with or anything to impinge on your senses. Try and get away from the non-stop stimulation of emails, phone calls, text messages, RSS feeds, Facebook updates - just for a few minutes and practice being just with yourself and your thoughts. Get comfortable with this first. When you can be at ease with silence within yourself, it will be much easier to allow moment of silence when in conversations with others. 

As a coach, silence is my friend as much as talking is. It makes a world of a difference to my coaching conversations as I try to use it consciously. I hope I've been able to help you see why. I'd love to hear from you on the subject as well - feel free to write in whenever you like! 

Notice Something Good? Well, Then Say Something!

In India, we celebrate Teacher's Day on the 5th of September, the birthday of Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, a great scholar and teacher  who was also the President of India between 1962 and 1967. Teacher's Day is meant to celebrate the impact that teachers have on the lives of their students - their contribution to hundred's of lives that pass through the doors of their classrooms and schools.

While growing up, this day was always a matter of great excitement for us. We'd make hand-painted cards for our teachers, there'd be a bunch of fun activities in school, special food and snacks etc. In college too, the celebration of Teacher's Day continued, with the professors putting up performances of all kinds - dance, music, theater, elocution etc. The day was about acknowledging the presence and contribution of the teachers in our lives.

Somewhere along the way, as adulthood took over, I think many of us lost this...

It's easy to fall into the current of adult life - work, family, relationships etc. etc. - and let it carry us relentlessly forward, with no time or energy to look back or even think about the people and influences that we've left behind. I don't mean to suggest that we should live in the past - what I offer is a suggestion that we remain aware of who and what has played a role in shaping the people that we are in the present moment. This awareness has the ability to both release the grip of negative influences and strengthen the contribution of positive influences on our lives. And here's an example of the latter...

Early in the morning, on Teacher's Day 2011, I suddenly found myself in possession of the phone number of Mrs. Lal, my third grade class-teacher - someone I hadn't seen since 1996, when I left the school she teaches at. How I got the number is a long story that I might relate at another time - for now, let's stick with the fact that I found it!

As I entered her number in my phone, I found myself rushing through memories that I hadn't visited since - well forever, it seems! There was Mrs. Lal, welcoming me on the first day of school - her face wreathed in a bright smile, full of kindness and comfort. There was Mrs. Lal handing out little seeds that we all had to press into a large pot of soil, that would burst into a gorgeous plant a over our summer vacations. There was Mrs. Lal rapping a piece of chalk smartly on the blackboard, making us understand that sound travels in waves... and so many other memories. But the one that stood out most for me was Mrs. Lal, sitting next to me and helping me through a picture book that told a story about two gorillas. I remembered her sitting on a little chair and patiently introducing me to the wonder of the written word, firing my imagination with explanations accentuated by her naturally expressive face. I realised, most powerfully in that moment of remembrance, that Mrs. Lal had given me an incredible gift, during the time that I spent in her class. The gift of reading - and a love for the written word. Books are my inseparable companions till today and as you can tell, I love writing too! It was in Mrs. Lal's class that we I first got introduced to stories and the fact that we could create them just as easily as we could listen to them.

Within minutes I found myself typing a text message to her - telling her that years ago, had it not been for her, a chubby little fellow (now a still chubby man) would never have picked up his love for books and learning - and I asked her to guess who I might be. A short while after, there came a reply from her with an insight that meant a lot to me.

She wrote back saying that while she could not guess who I was, the little message I sent was the best greeting she had received that day - and it made the last so-many years relevant.

I was amazed - nothing had suggested to me that the little acknowledgement I was sending her would have meant so much! It was something that I did on impulse - guided completely by the heart. I had not stopped for a moment to anticipate what relevance it might have to her apart from the usual feel-good factor of an old student getting in touch again. Her message made me think otherwise!

I called her at once. We connected beautifully and there was no mistaking the warmth and happiness in our voices. Mrs. Lal sounded exactly the same, her voice bringing back yet more memories if the days gone by. Once we had gotten over the excitement of me introducing myself and telling her about what I do today, Mrs. Lal told me that my message had made her feel like her life and contribution had had effects in the long term - at a time when, after so many years of teaching, she was looking back at her life and reflecting on what impact she might have had. It felt wonderful to hear her say that - worded so simply, gracefully...

********************************************************************************
Needless to say, I'm deeply grateful for the fact that I got in touch with her that day. Life gave us an opportunity to reconnect after so many years and in that simple, affectionate interaction, I saw a great example of the power of acknowledgement. All I really did was reach to acknowledge the impact that Mrs. Lal had on my life - and not even entirely conscious of what I was doing at the time. And yet, that message meant so much to her. It gave her a perspective on what she had done for her student because it celebrated one of the best things about her - the fact that she is a wonderful teacher and has helped hundreds of children move ahead with their lives.

As I went over these insights, I felt more than ever that in Coaching, acknowledgement is a wonderful gift to be able to give a client. In a coaching session, I listen to what the client is saying and not saying - I see areas of strength, initiative, effort, hope that are sometimes eclipsed by the issue being dealt with. It is these resources that I bring up to the client's attention, to show them how much they have within themselves to deal with the issues at hand. Acknowledgement is one of the keys to unlocking awareness - it's not flattery, it's respect. It's about getting clients to respect their potential and use it with awareness.

A simple acknowledgement did so much for my Class 3 teacher - it can do the same for anyone you are speaking with at any time. Sincerity and attentiveness are the only prerequisites.

Something I want to leave you with: Who would you like to acknowledge for the impact they have had on your life? How comfortable are you with the idea of acknowledging them? What do you want to say? And when are you going to say it. If I may suggest it, now's the time!

Leaping Off a Roof

Every morning, when I wake up, I feel grateful for that fact that my room has an attached balcony that faces exactly east. When I walk out on it, I stare right into the face of a beaming sunrise and smile back, letting the warmth and the light soak in. It's wonderful to begin the day with gratitude for everything I have in my life - especially the Light which makes me See.

On one such morning, as I stood on the balcony enjoying Bangalore's brilliant weather, I observed something that has stayed with me since. It made a huge difference to my learning as a person and as a Coach. Recently, it also emerged spontaneously in a coaching session with a client and facilitated insights that helped to shift our perspectives on the issues that we were dealing with. I'd love to share it with you in this space. 

What I saw was a squirrel - a brown, furry little bundle of energy, milling about madly on the the rooftop of the house that faces mine. The rooftop was quite bare, but the squirrel was running about it like a thing possessed, exploring every inch of it - every slope, every tile. It's manner of doing this seemed so random and disorganized that I watched in complete amusement - marveling at its speed and vigor - much in the same way as I watch a toddler babble incessantly with a new-found gift of speech!

And then I realized that there was a method to the little squirrel's madness. It was doing something that suddenly made sense to me. You see, as much as it milled about on the rooftop, it kept running up to the edge, appearing to be looking for something. From any part of the roof, it would suddenly dart towards the edge with shocking speed and come to a dead halt the moment it touched the edge - just when I was convinced its momentum would carry it over. What in the world did it want to do? 

The realization hit me - it wanted to get out of there - it wanted to jump! But how, I wondered? It had probably climbed onto the roof from the ground, using the pipes that line the house - but I couldn't imagine it jumping off - everything it could possibly hope to reach, seemed so far off to me! "Poor thing!" I thought "Get back to the pipes and climb down!" But no, the little creature was clearly set on trying something different. It seemed to have zoomed in on one spot - a spot that it kept revisiting, to look upwards with a quick jerk - as if judging something. As I followed its movements I realized it was staring at the tip of a branch, preparing to leap at it. "NO!" I thought. "You'll never make it, little one! Please don't jump! You could get hurt!" 

And yet it did - it spun around, darted to a spot from where it would start the run, sped forward to the edge, paused for just a moment and then leaped... It stayed in the air for one long, heart-stopping moment - this frail, delicate little creature, stretched out in the air, against the morning sky - and then it landed. Plumb on the tip of that branch, clinging on with jubilant energy, bending the thin branch forward for a bit. I could almost 'hear' its exultation before it vanished into the foliage with a happy squeak.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Squirrel's Leap" as I call it, spoke volumes to me about taking a risk. Doing something that we want to do in core of our beings, even if an onlooker or society or even our our own conditioning says we shouldn't. It's about taking the "leap of faith" - following our hearts and intuition. 

While coaching, the memory of this incident becomes a symbol of following my instinct when working with a client. It reminds me to follow my gut when asking questions and BEING with the client, i.e. present with every fiber of myself. Sometimes I ask a question that takes me to a different "platform" with the client - exploring a different avenue - just like the squirrel had to leave the platform of the rooftop. I have to follow my instinct and go where my heart leads me in the session. The faith with which I make this leap is faith that I will get somewhere because I care for the client I am coaching and that this care will take me forward with the session. I've never seen this fail till date. Breakthroughs happen when we least expect it.

The squirrel is a symbol of taking risks - joyfully. It's about leaving the known, to explore to unknown with excitement. It's about seeing what's there to explore in the given moment and going out there to explore it with enthusiasm. Sometimes this means venturing into a completely different space - and sometimes it's just about doing things differently right where you are. You need to take a call based on your instinct - and trust it to begin with!

Those were my insights - sourced from a little squirrel on a gorgeous sunny morning. I'd love to hear what comes up for you. Feel free to write in!

Parting words - Jump! Try something new - open yourself to experience - you're going to love it!