The Need for Compassion…Again

I’ve written about the need for compassion before.  My sense is that it bears repeating.  Why?  Because I look around the world, in sort of an everyday context, and I’ve got to wonder, “where the heck did it go?”  (As in, “where the heck did compassion go, not “the world”!)

Saturday morning found me at the hospital with my parents.  My dad’s got a WICKED cough, and what appeared to be (and has since been confirmed as)  the flu.  The wait time to see the doctor was painfully long — we were there for 7 hours total — and I wasn’t the one trying to get comfortable.  Between lengthy coughing fits, body aches, unbelievable fatigue from lack of sleep, all my dad wanted — and needed — was for someone to give him a place to lie down, show some understanding and hear him out.  Wasn’t happening.

For whatever reason, the triage nurse just didn’t have the time to listen to his complaints.  Her job, as far as I could tell, was to get him registered, mark down his symptoms, then keep him waiting until a bed was available.  I get it.  And yet, there was something about watching a waiting room full of ill people — many of whom were seniors — just waiting to be taken care of that was heart-wrenching.  Especially when they would approach the window to speak with the nurse, sometimes ask a question or register worsening symptoms, only to be left speaking to the side of her head while she typed away at her computer in silence.  Really?  I’ve got to wonder, what would it have taken for her to at least say, “I understand” or, “I know you’re uncomfortable” — something that expressed compassion.  I mean, even if  she had turned to her colleague and rolled her eyes after my dad or others had lodged complaints or expressed concern and turned away, at least my dad and his waiting room compadres would have FELT heard.

I know from my own experience on both sides of this fence, when someone is sick, all they want is to be made comfortable.  And when you’re the one dealing with the person who’s sick, all you want is for them to understand that there’s only so much you can do.  And yet, my personal sense is that the person who’s not sick is in the better position to express compassion, at least for a bit.  So here’s my question:  what does it take to express compassion?

I would love to hear your thoughts.  Send me a quick email or post your thoughts on this site.  This one’s definitely got me curious.

A Place of Wonder

So, I’m  not yet really sure what this blog post is going to be about.  I just know that I’ve made a commitment to myself to write in this blog at least three times a week, and last week got away from me — I think I only managed one post.  Not beating myself up over it — and I’m aware that I don’t want this week to be a repeat.  So, here I am, diving in.

Woke up this morning setting the intention of productivity, to-do-lists done, meetings, scheduled, clients well-served, etc;.  I say “etc;” only because my daily intentions are often a variation of this.  Which could be construed as boring.  Today, though, had the added flavour of being in a state of wonder.  As in “I wonder what will show up today?”  Today, when I’ve coached my clients, I’ve come from wonder about where our coaching will go.  When I’ve tweeted, I’ve wondered about who might respond, or what might get provoked for followers.  When the thunder-storm began, I took myself to the place of wondering — how long would it last, would I walk the dog in the rain, would the power go out, would the children be scared?

And then, there’s been just an overall sense of wonder — what will the day hold?  What seed will get planted today that will bear fruit later?  What fruit will show itself today, from some seed that I planted earlier?  What little surprise will the universe have for me — and will I see it for what it is?

I guess I’ve got a sense that wonder serves leadership in a big way.  I think we’ve got a notion in our world that leadership requires conviction, and that conviction is different somehow from wonder.  I guess I’m sort of hanging out in a space today of thinking that wonder and conviction actually go together more strongly than might be apparent at first glance.  I think wonder fuels conviction, or at least strengthens it in some way.  Because standing in wonder facilitates learning, which can enhance conviction.  That’s where I’m at today.

Bottom-line for me, effective leadership, leadership that serves humanity, and even leadership that serves on a smaller scale requires one to stand in wonder, at least for a small segment of time.  What reveals itself to you, when you stand in wonder?

How Are You REALLY? — Are You Sure?

“How are you?”  This is a question that is asked hundreds of times a day, in various forms.  And more often than not, the answer of choice is “fine, thanks”, “good, thanks”, or some similar phrase, usually delivered with very little enthusiasm or thought.  Moreover, there are definitely times where the answer “fine, thanks” is clearly not true.  Or, at the very least while it might be true, it doesn’t jive with the energy and vibe being given off.  So I’m sitting in a place of curiousity around this, wondering what it is that stops people from answering truthfully, or at least acknowledging the disconnect between their words and their energy.

Let me give an example.  This morning I called a friend very quickly to confirm plans for our children this weekend.  The moment she answered the phone, I could tell that she wasn’t in her usually cheerful spirits.  Not that she has to be; she’s entitled to feelings other than cheerfulness, especially when the weather is grayish.  That being said, when I questioned how she was, her answer was (in the most flat-lined tone possible) “oh, I’m fine. Nothing wrong at all.”  When I expressed concern about her voice tone (“are you sure?  you don’t sound fine.”) she did acknowledge that the weather was getting her down.  My question is, why couldn’t this have been part of her original answer?  What is it that has people hold back various aspects of the truth, particularly when it pertains to “how they’re doing?”

In an effort to find the answer, I’ve done a little introspection.  While I realize that I may not represent humanity as a whole, I think there may be elements of universal truth in my experience.  So here’s what I know:

-sometimes, I don’t want to share details with the person in question — due to a lack of trust, lack of intimacy, etc;

-sometimes, I haven’t actually taken the time — and don’t want to take the time –  to check in and find out how I am.  Answering with the “expected” answer feels like it’s all I can muster.

-sometimes, I’m distracted.

-sometimes, I’m trying to “fake it till I make it”; in other words, I’m trying to shift my “down-state” into something more upbeat

While all of these rationales may be true at various times for me, I do think that there’s something that gets lost, and something “icky” that gets created in its place, when we don’t take the time and effort to answer truthfully — or to at least acknowledge the discrepancy between our “fine” answer and our “less-than-fine” demeanor.  I wonder what it would take for us to interact with each other and with ourselves truthfully, at all times?  It’s just a curious question that I’m holding.  And while I hold it, I’ll invite you to ask yourself — how are you today?  Are you sure?