An Experiment in Communication
After a long silence here on the blog, two children bundled up for winter enticed me to open my laptop and post again.
As they walked down the street in front of me yesterday, every footstep of theirs was a new discovery. They literally dragged their feet over the sidewalk, exploring everything with them:
“Ooooh! This ice patch isn’t sanded!”
“Ouch, my butt!”
“Move, I want to slide too!”
“Woah that IS slippery!”
“Haha, I told you!”
“Move, I want to try again!”
Then, as their feet got bored and their butts sore, their eyes begin to wander.
“Oy! That is cold on the nose. Feel it!”
Meanwhile, I looked down at my feet and noticed how I was moving them.
When did I learn not to drag mine?
Thankfully that was easy to remedy.
I dragged my feet.
The gravel WAS cool. I liked how the frictions fluctuated. As a collective, the pebbles whispered to me, enticing me to switch intensities and speeds, to shuffle my feet around, move them from side to side. The gravel and the pavement beneath it were talking to me. Teaching me. The vibrations moved up through my feet into my calves, guiding me.
It reminded me of the experiment in the last blog i.e., how minor changes in our movements impact our life. And it pulled up two other threads I have been thinking about lately.
What are the different ways we communicate beyond words?
And more specifically, what happens when we tune into the “voices” of other elements/beings in the world around us?
What would happen if I gave myself over to following the gravel and pavements directions?
This might sound a bit out there, but I bet if you take the time to think about it, you might find you are already doing it.
Writers, for example, might be familiar with how one word leads to the next. How a sentence might take form only in the process of writing. The clicking of the keys, or the scratching of your fountain pen as it covers the surface all collaborate in the creation of thought…
If you are a weight lifter, you might recognize how those iron plates call out to you and beg you to carry them on your back as you squat, but what else do they tell you once they are on your back? Do they tell you something different than when you used the other smaller weights? Perhaps, that it might be wise to work on your core strength a bit more? Or that you might need to work on your breathing?
Experiment with Communication
1. Try thinking about the every day things you come into contact with and pick one that you interact with frequently but usually don’t give a lot of thought to.
2. Now, take a deep breath and let it come to life. Recognize it, if you will, as your equal in the task at hand and listen to it.
3. Instead of exploring it as you would if you were being curious about it (i.e., as if you are the one controlling the interaction) try to think of it in terms of a relationship with two-way communication. How does it communicate with you? Can you tune into the relation between the two of you and let it lead?
4. How does learning to listen to the things around you shape your interactions? How does being aware of it shaping your interactions in turn re-shape your interaction?
I’d be curious to hear about your experiences! If you get a chance drop me a line using the contact form, write them here in the comments section or tell me about it on our Coaching with Curiosity Facebook page.