An “older” video (in internet terms, anyway), but a fun one. Keep an eye out for this girl on future motivational speaker circuits!
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qR3rK0kZFkg&w=420&h=315]
Freedom from updates
Communication is a boon, a blessing, the only way to get things done.
Things that facilitate communication are boons, blessings, necessary to our daily life at work and play.
If the above statements are true, why is burnout higher than ever? Why do we have to manage our communications and contact with so many different people? Why do many of us feel the need to apply a task-management approach more suited for the office to our regular interactions with friends and family?
The problem could be rooted in our attempts to communicate too much. The old adage that you can have too much of a good thing is absolutely true, and when it comes to sharing with other people, we are gorging ourselves sick on constant superficial interactions. At work and at home we are connected with email, internet, land-line, mobile phones, “smart” devices, and an ever-evolving onslaught of social networking vehicles. All of these demand that our brains remain in constant social mode, ready to respond to someone else at a moment’s notice. This is an exhausting state to remain in all day, every day, akin to having your ‘game face’ on nearly every waking minute.
Unfortunately, this constant contact takes a toll on the quality of our communications. We rapidly come to prefer communication methods that appear less intrusive or that allow us to better choose when and where to communicate. We would rather get an email or text than call someone and have a real-time voice conversation. Our interactions then get reduced to little snippets of information that contain no depth and very little real connection. Instead of calling someone to chat about the weekend’s happenings, we “poke” them on Facebook or broadcast a 140 character info-bit on Twitter about Saturday night’s party. Meanwhile, we begin to dread the ringing of the telephone, and eventually start to want to unplug from the social networks and mobile phone (clanging bother-machines that they are).
I certainly fall prey to the lure of these mini-communication moments. My brain gives me a good rush of dopamine when I get a text or someone comments on my Facebook status update. But after a while, the desire to detach myself from that type of communication in favour for meaningful contact with a very limited number of people becomes less of a want and more than a need.
This last week, my husband and I went to an out-of-town wedding and took the opportunity to tack on two days of hiking in the mountains. We reconnected with family we rarely see, and then spent two blissful days out of cell phone range. Not once did I check my email, post a status update, or answer a text. My husband and I chatted a great deal, but also spent a lot of time in absolute silence. The silence was wonderful – we were together mentally and physically, but the noise of the world was hushed out by the tramping of our hiking boots. I didn’t have the slightest desire to post a happy status update or share an Instagram photo of the beautiful trails.
These time-outs should be experienced by even the most enthusiastic and dedicated communicator. If we never give ourselves time to sort out the noise in our own heads without broadcasting it to the world, how will we develop our ability to sort out the noise being exchanged between two people? Communication – even for pleasure – can be difficult and exhausting. We’ve traded quality for quantity. Sometimes, the severe restriction of quantity is the only thing that can improve the quality of the messages we’re trying to get across.
Give it a try. Go out for a day, and leave the cell phone behind. Give yourself the gift of freedom from communication – no status updates, no sharing, no other people’s inputs distracting you away from the communication going on inside your own head. It can be tricky at first, but it quickly becomes wonderfully freeing.
Lessons from the world of sports
I have a soft spot in my hearts for sports people. It’s their inherently competitive, focused nature; it makes them delightfully sincere and transparent when they are stuck at a podium having to speak to an audience.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBIboDFR1bU&w=420&h=315]
Daily Acts
Acting is part of life. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we spent a significant portion of our day in one performance or another. Life demands all of us to be a bit of an actor, and most people are remarkably adept at this.
We perform in front of our spouses and friends. We act out specific roles and personas at work. We are definitely performers when giving speeches or presentations, regardless of their scale or importance. Sometimes the act is casual or subtle. Sometimes it is a full on display worthy of an Oscar award.
In my work, I’ll use the term “acting” a couple of ways. One of these is the way most people would define it: participating in a scripted or improvised play, film, or similar performance. Sometimes I’ll call people who do this kind of acting dramatists, just to avoid ambiguity (a rather old-fashioned term, I know. But it’s useful, and I am a Jane Austin fan).
The other way I define acting is: the conscious control of our externally projected emotions in order to convey a specific message for a specific purpose.*
This I’ll also call social acting. Sometimes we do this when we want to show an emotion externally that is different or conflicting with what we’re actually feeling. We might also do this to amplify our emotions for greater effect, or even if we’re trying to convince ourselves of something that we don’t yet quite believe. What we do on the outside, after all, has an effect on what’s going on inside our own heads.
When clients or workshop participants tell me that they’re “not an actor,” I usually dismiss the comment. It simply isn’t true. What the person actually means is that they’re not a dramatist. The majority of people are very adept social actors. We have to be – it’s part of getting along in human society. Social acting lets us communicate clearly, get along, keep the peace, motivate others, do what needs to be done in a different situations. People who truly, truly “can’t act” also usually can’t have normal relationships, whether social, romantic, or work-related.
So when are we social actors? Here are a few scenarios:
- A spouse approves of a new living room suite he doesn’t actually like. His partner has fallen in love with it, and that person’s happiness matters more to him than the fact that he hates harvest orange upholstry.
- An employee nods enthusiastically and gives her support to what she thinks is a terrible management decision, because she needs her boss to think that she’s “on board with management decisions.”
- A person refrains from rolling her eyes while being lectured by her friend about a new crackpot nutrition fad because it’s easier to keep the peace than get into another argument about food.
- A parent calmly comforts his child, saying that everything will be alright, even though he himself is afraid that it won’t be.
- A speaker gives his audience a dazzling, confident smile despite his jangling nerves and mounting nausea.
- A person tries imitating the physical mannerisms of her role model in order to project some of her idol’s charisma.
These performances aren’t necessairly done to be duplicitous. Social acting is as likely to be an honest act as a dishonest one. Sometimes we are social actors for the benefit of others, sometimes for our own benefit. Have you ever seen someone try to get over a phobia? When someone refrains from screaming or gagging while petting their friend’s boa constrictor because they want to get over their fear of snakes, they’re engaging in an honest bit of acting for their own benefit.
This week, try taking note of the instances where you think you are doing a bit of social acting. You might be surprised at how prolific and accomplished an actor you are!
*In case you were wondering, yes I really do get this nerdy when I’m babbling about work. This is what happens when I get excited!