This last month has been one full of paradoxes; ups and downs, ins and outs. In one of our 3 a.m. conversations, I heard this phrase..."I see your inside words....." I sat straight up in bed, finally illuminated. And it has been following me ever since. I've seen it in in print, I've heard it run through my mind at the most opportune times, reminding me that this is in fact a game we all play; the words we say and the inside words we mean.
I knew that going to Africa would highlight just how American I am- something I've never really been able to appreciate. I guess I just figured I would actually get to Africa before I started seeing it. Here I am in my very own house in a country little town in the USA realizing that I get extremely frustrated with inside words. I began to remember that this was always my fear as a child. Being misunderstood. If I created art, would people really get it? If I wrote the words, could a reader really understand? Because I love literature and poetry, I am fascinated by the many ways of saying things without really saying them. Poetry vs. prose, I guess. But I am just now understanding that in my social relationships, I don't want inside words. I want fresh, clear, honest communication.
My recent reading choices have brought me to many cultures and continents and I have found it impossible to relate to those that require silence. Keeping silence, maintaining silence, speaking in codes that hope the listener will figure out the true meaning. I'm so American. I just want people to say what they mean and mean what they say. I can't work in opposites or omissions. I can't manage polite deference or resignantion.
I appreciate these qualities, for certain. I have spent much time marveling at how my husband can hold his tongue when he is angry but though striving, I have never managed to attain this level of patience. Just lately, I am shocked at how far his inside words reach. I have always thought he was not listening (I'm not entirely giving this idea up) but of late I see that I have not been an active listener. I want to sit and plan our life together. He is not a planner. He defers to me and assumes I will hear his inside words of resistance. I take his deference to be acceptance or aloofness. How could I have been so blind? All the while looking outside at the ocean blue, forgetting to forage deep beneath the surface and appreciate the true complexities blooming there.
I've even read the book comparing Eastern and Western thought processes (I'm so bad with titles, but it was a fascinating study...if only I could recommend it....) It was very explicit in this aspect of active listening: an example would be of a child singing a song very loudly. The mother might respond with something like " You're music is very strong." The hidden message is that the loudness is disturbing to others. I'm thinking it could take years for a child to realize this. Of course, there are many subtle lessons over time that reinforce listening for the real intention of the speaker, regardless of the words. Should I be surprised that we often pass each other on our separate paths of communication. He is busy listening for my inside words that do not exist and I am busy listening to his spoken words that do not really express.
I do recognize times when I use these inside words. And I recognize times when I fear putting my words out, plainly or otherwise. Because words have a way of returning, dressed up in costumes we never intended them to wear.
I can still get lost in the plane of thought, trying to untangle the web of social interactions that prove no matter what I do or say or write, there are people who will just never be able to see me. Sometimes I wonder how important that is. Is it supposed to be important? Or can I just wander along in my own private fog, secure in my notion self?
Someone like me cannot really do that.
