I love "AHA!" moments. It's a little like getting a late Christmas present or an unexpected birthday gift. Small epiphanies can occur at any time and show up anywhere. It's the "I coulda had a V-8" moment that leads the mind (and if lucky, the heart) into new thoughts and ways of thinking, new understandings and, quite possibly, actions.
In the book Uncommon Gratitude, written with Sr. Joan Chittister, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams, wrote of Father Joe, a priest with a very uncommon gift. It seems that Father Joe could listen with full attention to whatever someone was saying to him, giving them the feeling that what they said and thought, even their very selves, were of tremendous interest and importance. Whatever was said was heard with the ears and heart of kindness, compassion and understanding. I got the feeling that Father Joe, to use an old metaphor, could take the old suit of ideas that someone brought out of the closet, shake it, dust it off, give it a bit of a press and return it to the person, the same suit but somehow made new and useful once again. Archbishop Williams stated, "I've said that you would be taken seriously; at the same time, you would emphatically not be encouraged to take yourself seriously in the wrong way." *
What a tremendous gift to give to someone: undivided attention, more interested in what they say than what the response should be, acceptance of the person's position (whether or not there is a common agreement on the subject), and a response that honors the person yet sends them off considering a new spin on what they originally thought, headed in a new direction from the one in which they came.
I guess I'm like a lot of people; I often take myself too seriously. Maybe it is a defense mechanism because there's the old saw that if I don't take myself seriously, no one else will either. Maybe it's because when I hold the mirror up to myself I see little to lighten the soul and spirit. In any case, I've been fortunate (make that tremendously blessed) to have a few people around me at various times that took me seriously, offered a not always uncritical but usually very kind ear, and who could brush off the dust from my suit and refresh it before handing it back to me to put on. Quite often, without saying so, they encourage me not to take myself so seriously and their unspoken cautions often draw me up short.
There are times, however, when I offer something to someone that I feel is serious and important only to be brushed aside. I guess that's a sign that I'm taking myself (or my opinion or belief about something) too seriously. Sometimes it just seems more prudent to "Remain silent and be thought a fool than to open the mouth and remove all doubt." The trick is to know which to do when. And then there's the twist-- if I want to be listened to, I must cultivate the ability of active listening and offer that courtesy to others first.
Oh, how lovely it might be sometimes to have people hanging on my every word as if it were some special insight or words of wisdom, but dang it, that ain't how it is or how it will be. Everybody wants to feel important, to be appreciated, to be respected, but it's not necessarily something that is part of the person's DNA or even the product of their upbringing. A lot of it comes from experience and only living gives that breadth of experience.
Ok, I'm never going to be taken as seriously as I'd like, and Lord knows I need to take myself less seriously most of the time. So what now? Am I willing to listen with more energy than I spend trying to formulate an answer before the other person has finished speaking? Am I willing to prick the balloon of self-importance and occasional pomposity? Am I willing to open myself and be more vulnerable so that someone else can be taken very seriously without patting myself on the back for my virtuousness in so doing? Can I be serious without taking myself too seriously?
God knows ---- but I will have to find out.
( Chittister & Williams, Uncommon Gratitude, Kindle edition, loc. 749)
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