Fierce Conversations

"Wrong turns are as important as right turns. More important sometimes." Richard Bach

Recently, there was an incident at the shelter where I work that made me cry. Two years ago I started an art program in a multi-purpose room. Several times a week, clients can use the space to paint, draw, play music. It has had a profound effect on two clients in particular. Keeping the program running has been a constant struggle to balance the use of the room with other groups, and the fact, creating is at times a messy business. On the weekend, the floors in the room had to be stripped and waxed. The art needed moving. A staff member, heard the order from one of the directors to 'get that garbage out of there ' and got to work moving the art -- into a huge pile on the loading dock where the next natural progression was to throw it out. It was an indescribably sad act. To see the creations of those who have nothing treated with such disregard, such utter disdain.

I was angry. Upset. Sad. I showed the Exec. Dir. the pile of art on the loading dock and he immediately had it returned to the multi-purpose room. But that didn't save all of the art. Several pieces were destroyed.

I had been trying to find one of the artist clients to apologize for what had happened to his art. Unfortunately, he has been missing in action since discovering what had happened. Yesterday, I found him.

The gift out of all of this, I told him, is that we've been given our own creative space, a room that will be used for the purpose of creating art, music, drama.

"There's more to ending homelessness," he said, "Than just providing for food and shelter."

"So true," I replied. "Gotta go."

Missed conversations are never retrieved.

"Adam" gave me an opening to listen yesterday and I walked away. I wasn't really listening to his response. In wanting to talk to him, I hadn't entered into the conversation with listening on my mind. My purpose was to acknowledge his art had been destroyed, and to let him know, it wasn't all bad. There was a silver lining.

Adam doesn't really care about the silver lining. He's much more focused on the here and now, on surviving one more day. The art program has given him an opportunity to see there's a possibility for 'more' in his life. A possibility of change. Over the course of the two years he's come to the program, I've witnessed the change in him. So have other staff. Yesterday, I had the opportunity to hear what he wanted to say about his change of state, and I walked away.

That's a big aha moment for me. How many times do I engage in a conversation because I have something to say and want to be heard? Rather than engaging in a conversation to give the other person a chance to be heard so that we can deepen our relationship.

Susan Scott, in her book, Fierce Conversations, writes, "The conversation is not about the relationship. The conversation is the relationship."

For two years, I have worked to engage Adam through the art program with his creative core. Over the past few months, he has alluded to a deepening of spirit, an awareness of the need for change. In having his art destroyed, Adam has had to face what it means to him. The value it has in his life.

I have held back from deepening the conversation with Adam because I have been worried that he will take flight if I probe too deeply. My job isn't to probe. My job is to listen, with an open mind and heart, to create a safe place for others to speak from their hearts so that true understanding can happen. In not hearing what he had to say yesterday, I realize it is my fear of the outcome of talking to him that holds me back, not the fear of what he'll do. There's a simple truth in all of this. Adam lives at a homeless shelter because he has nowhere else to go. Even when things are bad, he will come back. Not having a conversation with him isn' about his fears. It's about mine.

To help Adam find his place somewhere else beyond a homeless shelter, I need to be willing to engage in listening and hear what he has to say. I have to step away from what I want to say about where I think he's at and needs to go, and here him tell me where he's at and where he wants to go.

When I am intent on delivering my message, I walk away from the opportunity to engage and be present in hearing someone else's message to me.

Time to put my fear aside and step onto 'fierce conversation' footholds. Time to take yesterdays wrong turn and turn it into an opportunity to overcome my barriers so that I can have a meaningful conversation with someone who deserves my rapt attention.

As Susan Scott suggests in "Fierce Conversations", it's time to oil my reverse gear and create a space where Adam, and others, can be heard.

The question is: Where does your fear of listening keep you filling the space around you with your words? Where do you avoid fierce conversations because what you have to say creates a barrier between the wants and needs and dreams of those you love?