I've tried to write this post what must nearly be 20 times now. I think that some of it is a bit too close to my heart, so I kept getting wrapped up in the detail, resulting in some really quite boring writing for anyone who isn't me. I'll try and keep it simple this time, I promise...
Now, I'm a sucker for symmetry. I love finding it in things. Recently I refused for several minutes to let my friend Helen move from standing in front of some fishing nets until I felt I had the appropriate amount of symmetry for the photo to the left*. I also recently, and much more relevantly, found some behavioural symmetry that was very interesting to me...
I usually am fortunate enough do some work with the fabulous Sense's holidays team in the summer. Last year was no exception to this rule. The gist of the programme is that you spend a week supporting deafblind people (I've mostly worked with kids to date). And you spend an ordinate amount of time during that week just experimenting with different ways to communicate with people who likely don't have formal, or mainstream, communication styles**, so likely aren't fluent** speakers or hearers. I've no doubt that all of these mini-experiments look utterly bizarre to your average passerby, but if communication is your thing, well then it's fascinating, it's exciting.
My holiday last year found me, amongst other things, spending around 15 hours over the course of the 7 days mirroring a young man who (just for the purpose of privacy) we'll call James. The longest stint we did with me imitating James was the first time I sat down in front of him and had one-to-one time with him. It was about 4 and a half hours simply sitting, imitating him. The rest of the 15 hours was dotted throughout the week. We did a few 2- or 3-ish hour blocks over the next couple of days, until we both took for granted that it was a method now that we used to communicate with each other, and then it whittled down to minutes here and there. This became the foundation of how we got to know each other.
I was mulling over this whole process after the fact - this, sort of random, thing that I had done really instinctively but that had had all of these wonderful ramifications (for James is a wonderful, wonderful guy to get to know) and which had totally cemented our relationship. And I realized that all I'd done was to let him know that I was listening. And then he'd allowed a relationship to start***. So very simple, but it was like a Joycean epiphany to me at the time. (I've learnt a bit more about imitation as a communication style since. Paul Hart of Sense Scotland is the guru right now, as far as I'm concerned.)
Did we lose the symmetry thread, you ask? No, no, here it is...
Probably about as far away from deafblindness as you might go now, I got an email not long ago from the bra company I use. They hadn't heard from me in a while and wanted me to know they were still thinking of me and get on my radar if they'd fallen off. They sent me the below email.
I've always enjoyed the job Bravissimo do at keeping their customers central and paying attention to us. I think they are brilliant at this. This "Bravissimo Girl" concept that they've built is positive enough that I'm more than happy for them to put me in that category.
As I clicked through to tell them to keep writing to me, it occurred to me that the way they had got me and kept me mirrored the way that I had worked to have a relationship with James:
- A time- and energy-intensive first interaction (Bravissimo will likely spend a few hours with you the first time you go in)
- Followed by shorter, but still very attentive communication in the next few interactions (while you're still getting to know each other)
- Less intensive interactions after that, though all regular and thoughtful, once we've gotten to know what to expect from each other (like this lovely email)
Throughout this process, they've behaved like the relationship with me matters and is specific. They, basically, have done a fantastic job of letting me know they are listening to me.
Getting people to understand that you're listening in the first place always takes time and commitment, that then needs to be followed as well by ongoing commitment. But knowing you're listened to not only means you share the positive things you have to give (James shared his time and attention and sense of humour with me; I share positive feedback with Bravissimo, spend money there and, of course, have been turned into a sneezer), but also means that you don't often feel the need to shout to be heard or to lash out to make your point, even if there's something we're not happy with.
I'd be over the moon to get something like this from a charity I've supported. We all know it's important to listen but sometimes, perhaps because it's hard work, I think we might forget how big the benefits are. And the benefits are brilliant.
By the way, I'm a sneezer for the Sense holidays too, in case that wasn't obvious**.
_____________________
*This of course doubles as a thinly-veiled excuse to put my holiday photos up.
**I'm doing my best to steer clear of jargon, etc. and please take my double asterisks to denote where I've actively tried not to get bogged down in the detail, successfully or unsuccessfully. Drop me a line if you happen to want to know more about any of those bits.
***You always cry at least once on a Sense holiday, for any of a great swathe of reasons. James was my moment last year. He touched my face when I told him I was leaving and I'd loved meeting him. I believe made a small squeaking noise and then had to leave the room.
