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Communication 101

November 3, 2009

It’s all about us…but it shouldn’t be.

What I’m talking about is the way we communicate (or don’t communicate) with others and how often we are at the centre of our own thoughts within a conversation, even if the topic of discussion has absolutely nothing to do with us.

When someone is sharing news with us, we may be thinking, ‘how will this affect me?,’ ‘how can I relate to this?,’ or perhaps ‘is this person mad at me? We may be spending more time thinking about what we will say next rather than listening to what our friend is saying to us.

When someone gives us constructive criticism or feedback, our immediate response is defensiveness and self-preservation. We must protects ourselves – the ego and the image – at all cost. Our castle has been attacked and so we turn to blame, excuses, and complaining to defend what remains.

When someone is telling us a story, our thoughts drift inwardly to an experience that was (somewhat) similar so that we have something to say back to them. For example, my conversations with other Global Development students often turned this way. People couldn’t help but want to up the ante and share what they did, what they saw, what they ate when they were in Vanuatu, China, Kenya, or Ecuador instead of simply enjoying someone else’s travel story.

Does this sound like you, too?

I learned recently by listening to an audio series called Shape Communication that if we want to reach our end goal, if we want to live harmoniously with others, if we want to improve as people, if we want to be part of an effective team, if we want to have good relationships and if we want to keep learning, we have a lot of work to do on the way we communicate with others.

It’s what we often don’t even realize that we are doing that gets in the way. Communication breaks down when we aren’t truly listening. We may think we are listening because we may hear the words the other is saying. But, if we don’t make efforts to remove our own filter, to broaden our worldview, turn off the chatter in our own heads, and stop preserving the ego, we may as well be listening to water boil.

Try going into a conversation with the mindset of learning something about that person and learning a new way of seeing the world. The only way this can happen is to stop seeing the world your way! Stop reminding yourself of the way you see the world by remaining non-judgmental and putting your convictions aside. The audio series suggests you listen, listen, listen…and then ask strategic questions. You’re not done listening just because the other person has stopped talking. From there, ask them questions and get to know them more! Show that you were listening by asking deeper questions and seeking more information.

There is a fine line, though, which is listening to and feeding peoples’ drama. If someone is complaining or telling you the same story over and over, listen with a neutral mindset, and then either help them find a solution to their problem or don’t say anything at all. Don’t feed the drama by asking questions, or giving the token sympathetic responses. Girls watch out for this! We love to get together and recite stories – especially those with drama (think coffee shop dates, phone chats, and girls’ nights).

Finally, communication is a two-way street. It is a mutual exchange, so long as both parties are heard and understood. Ask what others need from you so you are clear on what their needs are, and state what your needs are. This final step is key in creating good communication with others, and in avoiding those sagas that result when communication breaks down.

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Portrait of The Okanagan

October 27, 2009

Picnic lunch overlooking Osoyoos Lake (grilled cheese and tomato soup, a la Laura and PJ).

Walking to Haine's Point amidst fall colours. Photo by Paul Zizka (www.zizka.ca).

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Fall colours along the shores of Osoyoos, British Columbia.

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Artwork in the NK'MIP winery.

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This local house was really into Hallowe'en decorations...

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The newlyweds enjoy a sunset on Okanagan Lake.

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Watching the Last Spike of the Railroad in Craigellachie on the way home.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.

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The Wax of our Thoughts

October 18, 2009

A short-lived Fall season has brought with it a time of introspection and deep reflection. Winter hit before Fall even had the chance to show its vibrant and colourful face, the needles of the golden larches thrown from their branchy homes by a cold wind and premature snowfall.

Reflection calls us to rest and take toll. But the passing time and the passing seasons are eager to move us onward. I want to understand and constantly want to process before moving on to the next phase. Sometimes these things must happen simultaneously, but we must walk into the future with our eyes facing forward and our hearts facing in all directions.

I’ve always been nostalgic in the Fall. The smell of leaves saying their last goodbyes brings back memories from childhood of heroic leaps into giant piles of leaves that were, in reality, only two and a half feet high. We used to collect leaves along the trail in the forest behind my parents’ house and take them home to dip them in wax. We hoped to keep them alive just a little bit longer, preserving the memory of their colours, holding onto the life within them.

The Child at Heart
The Child at Heart

Aren’t our memories and experiences the same? In times of reflection, we dip them in the wax of our thoughts and hold them dear, as though our efforts to preserve the good things will actually keep them alive. But, time passes and things change. Leaves rot and decay, returning to the earth with a humble funeral, leaving behind only the promise that colour will return once again in the Spring.

At times, my introspection leads me to places more complex than I have time to deal with. These are leaves I do not wish to preserve, nor do I wish to even pick up to inspect.  With no clear direction amidst conflicting and lonely thoughts, I am tempted to build a giant pile of leaves and jump in it, as if somehow a more childish approach will simplify life. But, my aunt recently introduced me to a poem by Jelaluddin Rumi that seems to express something that I haven’t been able to. One particular passage goes as follows:

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

It’s not always easy, but if I can greet my conflicting thoughts  and confusion at the door laughing, then perhaps they will giggle with me. Or maybe just jumping in leaves really is the solution.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.

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My First 10km Road Race Ever

September 27, 2009
At the Finish Line

At the Finish Line

A month ago I had the chance for a spot in a road race that is usually sold out the day registration open. Melissa’s Road Race is a popular Banff road race and has been awarded as one of the best road races in Alberta. Sponsored by the famous Melissa’s Restaurant (a place my parents used to take us to at a very young age), the race is an exciting gathering of locals and runners from all over the province.

So I had my chance to run. I always wanted to sign up for Melissa’s Road Race with the intention of having a goal to work towards. I also wanted to overcome a major fear of mine that I’d developed from bad experiences running track in elementary school: racing of any kind… especially among a large group of people.

Anyways, I had only a month to ‘train’ and I had to just trust that the hiking and climbing I had been doing all summer would help me out. Still, I hadn’t been for a run since May and sprained my ankle in August, so I was feeling a bit skeptical. All I managed to do before the race was run a 9.25 km route and a 4 km route.

Showing up on the race day, I felt a little bit silly… that is until I saw the kind of ‘racers’ that were there. Being a popular road race celebrating its 30th year, there must have been years that some of these people ran, but as time wore on, it turns out they were now settling to walk the whole way. This gave me a bit of a boost of confidence despite the super-runners that were stretching in unimaginable ways beside me.

My iPod pumping tunes in my ears, I was surprised by how fast I was going, but some unseen force was definitely driving me onwards (even up the hill on Tunnel Mountain). I crossed the finish line with a time of 58 minutes and a pace of 5:48 per kilometre. Is that good? I don’t know.

All I know is that I had a blast and overcome one of my major fears. Amazing.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.