Hello there, my friends …
This month I have been collecting my thinking about the “so anyway” parts of life and communication. One day looking back through a longer e-mail I had written to a dear friend, I found several “so anyways” marking the places that I returned from what could be called digression to the original subject that I had been writing about. Some of the digressions were just that, journeys off the story path I had started, to tell about something else or visit in a related place my mind had gone. I do find it fun to allow my mind to wander like that. Brocaded thinking I have called it. So many details can be told about any subject, details that fully explain, details that hold interest for the thinker for some reason, details that enhance a picture and allow a listener to know more. In a recent New Yorker article, “My Buddy,” in memory of her brilliant friend Sam Shepard, Patti Smith writes that his thoughts came ”seemingly out of nowhere. Only not just any nowhere but a sliver of a many-faceted nowhere that, when lifted in a certain light, became a somewhere.”
From being in a five-year thinking partnership with another dear friend, I learned that thoughts left to themselves sometimes remain circular.“Around and around and around they go and where they stop nobody knows” … if they stop at all. (Haven’t you had some of those crazy-making thoughts that seem to not let go, as though the thought itself is in charge?) Thinking aloud, though, to a listener who is interested in your thought process itself, actively waiting for your next thought, giving you attention and time, allows thinking to move forward, insights to come around, limiting assumptions to be noticed and then removed. It is possible to arrive at our own “somewhere,” our own personal brilliance. We all do have our own “slivers of a many-faceted nowhere” that can “become a somewhere” under the right conditions, to borrow Patti Smith’s description.
Frequently, when I think a story seems pertinent to a particular client’s situation, I preface the telling by saying, “Let me know if I’ve told you this before, and I’ll stop.” A few weeks ago, I had the honor of a client responding, “Even if you have told me before, I like to hear it, because I get something different each time.” I appreciated that honor of my words from her, and I also honored her attention to her own thinking. So specific. So open. So willing to hear what she might learn.
What’s the point of all of this anyway? Why bother with this being careful and specific with each other? My answer is simply because we are here with each other in this now. Brilliant human beings (yes, you too, and even me, and anyone who comes to your mind) with hearts and minds and souls, together in this particular now, this valuable now, this only now there is. Right now.
The Buddhists talk about the art of arrival. The art of arrival with a cup of tea. The art of arrival with each step. Noticing, paying attention, and respect. What if we did that with each other with each interaction? What if we valued the workings of that person’s mind, valued each other’s existence in each contact. What if we valued ourselves that way, too? What if … ?
I don’t have answers … only the questions and a sense of inspiration when I imagine the possibilities … As I write, I also think that this paying attention and respect is what is missing that causes us such anxiety in these times. We need each other’s best thinking. Those of us who are able to do just that, pay attention and respect … even when we disagree … are needed even more than ever to do what we can do, where we can do it. What if … ?
Once more, I have wandered on my own brocaded path to arrive at a “so anyway.” So anyway, thank you for allowing me to think aloud with you as I write. I hope you have found some meaning here for you, and that your day is one of blessings and love … Now I will go find my husband to apologize for the most recent time that I didn’t listen well and pay attention to the workings of his mind.
MK Shaw
I love your definition of brocaded thinking. Yes, a tapestry does exist inside my brain! That’s a really fun re-frame. I enjoyed this wander very much.
Dale Midgette Smith
Oh yes, Mary, a tapestry does exist inside your brain. I would say you have honored it well and as a result you produce such beautiful art for all to see. Glad you enjoyed this wander with me, as I enjoy yours with you.
Heidi
Beautiful writing, Dale. I will use your term “brocaded path” and think of you. It describes the process well. That process is what makes story tellers a rich repository of insight and experience. I do also appreciate returing to the main thread ” so anyway.” That is similar to a good comedian leading me to the punchline.
Dale Midgette Smith
Thank you, Heidi, for appreciating what I wrote and telling me. A comedian leading you to a punchline, eh? I like that. I am smiling. Best to you…
Diane
At bedtime, when my (now adult) daughter was little, I would read a few books with her and then we would turn off her light and lay there for a while and talk. She often said “tell me another family story….even if it’s a rerun”. I have never forgotten her saying that …. sometimes the reruns are the best parts!!! So familiar and comfortable and often bringing forth a new thought. Thank you, Dale, for allowing us/me to be part of your thinking aloud while you write. xoxo
Dale Midgette Smith
Diane, thank you as always for your comment…and the story of you and your sweet girl. Sometime ago I read an article by a man who was writing about listening to his elderly father’s “reruns.” The man said that on a long road trip his father started a story and then said “I don’t know if I’ve already told you this.” The son answered “You have. But it’s such a good story; tell me again.” Yup. A gift to both. XOX to you, too…
Andy Horne
Ah, a delightful journey through the thought process. Your observaton about being more present with our acquantances is so important. One day I was in Niger, Africa in a lonely section of road waiting for a bus. A man, fully clothed in white African garb came and sat beside me. We sat in silence for a bit and then he turned and said, “I am here. Are you?” I realized immediately that I wasn’t – I was somewhere else. Often, now, I reflect on that moment and check to see if I am here.
Dale Midgette Smith
Andy, what a wonderful story. I’m sure I will remember that and tell it myself. It does seem as though those two sentences “I am here. Are you?” would be the best possible way to check on someone who is sharing time with you. Thank you! I also appreciate your comment about my journey through the thought process. As for this particular now, I am here, and so were you. Nice.