“Just because we don’t see eye-to-eye doesn’t mean we can’t be close.”
(Sarah Dessen)

Yesterday we talked about our somewhat strange advice to rarely look your children in the eye. The power differential between a parent and child is so pronounced that, if we ever want them to open up and share their struggles, we need to restrain from any intimidating gestures, like looking them in the eye.

Several of you had some issues/questions about this, both in direct reply to the email and on our FB page. Some questioned whether this practice would come across as aloof or detached to our kids. Others replied that this practice goes against what their own parents always told them, namely to look people in the eye when you’re talking to them.

Couple of thoughts here:

1) We’re not suggesting disconnecting altogether from your children. In fact, we’re suggesting the exact opposite. In order to connect with someone in a hierarchical position beneath you, it is wise to set aside your obvious power and try to meet them at an equal level. This is true at work, and it’s true at home.

At work, since you’re dealing with adults who aspire to achieve, you want to invite them up to your level. So, looking your direct reports in the eye can be a measure of respect. You’ll probably need to set aside your obvious power difference in other ways, like coming out from behind your desk and sitting in a chair on the other side, alongside them, for instance.

At home, however, since you’re dealing with small children, then the best way of equalizing your levels is for you to drop down to theirs. Get on the floor with them, for instance. Do something with them that they enjoy, whether it’s shopping or listening to music or shooting baskets in the park.

2) If your parents taught you to look people in the eye when you talk to them, they were right. A child, in the obviously lower position, can gain older people’s respect by seeking to look them in the eye. I certainly tried to train my children to practice this as they grew up.

Of course, all of this is culturally contingent. In certain contexts, for instance, it is seen as presumptuous for anyone to quickly look you in the eye. In others, like when you get to visit royalty, it is simply not done, ever.

Come to think of it, perhaps that’s what I should have taught my kids: bow before me, never look me in the eye, beg for my attention, praise me at all times. Hmm…I wonder if it’s not too late…

Peace begins with pause,

Among all the pieces of parenting advice I’ve ever given, the one that raises the most eyebrows (ahem) is this:

Rarely look your children eye-to-eye.

Yes, there are times both necessarily serious, or beautifully emotional, to connect with your respective “windows of the soul.” But keep those times rare. Why? Because looking someone in the eye is a very intimate gesture between equals, but it’s a very intimidating gesture when there’s a natural power differential. Remember how you felt when your teacher stared down at you? Your own parents? Your boss now?

You are above your children in the natural hierarchy of the family, and if you want to invite them to open up and share more, you need to tone down anything that overtly communicates that power. Instead, stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your son or daughter, both metaphorically and literally. Get down on the floor and build a Lego project with them. Get in the car and drive, or go shopping, or throw the football around, then open up the lines of discussion.

Then, if you dare, save the intimacy for your equal in the home. Go stare your spouse down eye-to-eye, tell ‘em you’ve been thinking about them all day, and then kiss them for 8 whole seconds.

Trust me.

Peace begins with pause,

“Separate huts make for long marriages.”
(Sudanese proverb)

This past weekend Jenny and I shared a hotel room, but slept comfortably in separate beds. Could you and your significant other do the same?

Yesterday I got to discuss this on NBC’s Atlanta & Co. Check it out.

Peace begins with pause,

“It is as wrong to deny the possible as it is to deny the problem.”
(Dr. Dennis Saleebey)

One of the saddest truths I know is this: We are our own harshest critics. Even if we are merely agreeing with the expectations of others, being overly critical of ourselves contributes to our own shame. This never produces long-term progress.

In order to move forward and become the person you want so desperately to be, you must learn to respond to yourself with compassion and understanding. Our ability to be authentic with others is linked to our level of self-acceptance and our willingness to cut ourselves some slack when we fail to live up to our own expectations.

Recognize your strengths. Know that you are far more capable than you think you are. This won’t dismiss the pain or the seriousness of your struggles, but it will put those struggles into the proper perspective. Your problems exist alongside your talents, your hopes, and your potential.

Peace begins with pause,

“As long as you stand in your own way, what does it matter what other obstacles you face?”
(Anonymous)

While we all love to blame others for our unwanted circumstances, deep down we all have the same fear: What if it’s all my fault?

Well, it’s not. It’s just mostly our fault. Unless you’re in a concentration camp, your current life is largely up to you (and even there, according to Victor Frankl, you still have profound influence on any situation).

While I find this maddening in my own life, I also can find it empowering. If I’m part of the problem, and I’m willing to face it, then I can change a lot around me by simply changing me.

Of course, this doesn’t make it easy, and maybe that’s part of the reason I’m reluctant to be part of the problem.

But as we say in our ScreamFree Leadership program, if I’m not willing to be part of the problem, I can’t be part of the solution.

Peace begins with pause,

“No problem can stand the assault of sustained thinking.”
(Voltaire)

We all know the story of Thomas Edison’s perseverance in creating the lightbulb. He never failed, he just discovered 10,000 ways to not make a light bulb. So we hear.

What doesn’t get enough attention in this story, however, is how Edison never stopped thinking. With each “failure,” he learned something new. With each new attempt, he applied the lessons learned. The problems we face are no different. Every time we struggle there are opportunities for new thought.

Argument with your spouse about having too much month at the end of the money? What did you learn about yourself in the fight? Have you been assigning too much blame and taking too much credit? Is that increasing or decreasing your spouse’s defensive posture? Think.

Aggravated that your kid seems to care less about his grades than you do? Think about it. How might your efforts to motivate him be backfiring? At what point will you allow his grades to be his, and not a reflection on you? Think.

Angst about employees or colleagues not taking enough responsibility? Angry you’re having to do their job on top of yours? As long as you take responsibility for getting them to do their job, they won’t ever take that responsibility for themselves. Think.

When people hear the ScreamFree message for the first time, they often ask what they need to do next. Our answer is always the same:

Think.

Peace begins with pause,

“I was looking for revenge;
Thank God it never found me…”
(Stevie Ray Vaughan, “Tightrope”)

Whenever we feel rage, or righteous indignation, or a desire for revenge, it can seem as if we can’t help it. The emotions and desires are so strong, so palpable, they actually seem to overwhelm our ability to control them.

This is not true.

Like it or not, we actually have complete culpability in fomenting those feelings. No, we didn’t cause whatever the other person did to us, but we are the ones choosing to retell the story of their injustice. We are the ones choosing to re-send their hurtful words through our mind again and again. We are the ones choosing to elicit validation for our hurts from others.

And then we feel overwhelmed by our need for justice.

It is up to me whether I mine my mind for feelings of vengeance or decisions of forgiveness. It is up to me whether I excavate my emotions for more rage or more love.

It’s up to you as well.

Peace begins with pause,

“I am firm. You are obstinate. He is a pig-headed fool.”
(Katharine Whitehorn)

Learning to represent yourself well, especially in difficult conversations, is among life’s greatest pursuits.

It takes careful pause, so you don’t rashly react.
It takes careful speech, so your words are clear and unmistakable.
Then it takes another careful pause, so you can avoid saying more than is warranted.

“Honey, I am not telling you how to act, because you’re a grown woman, and I love you. What I am saying is that when you yell at our kids like that, it makes it harder for me to support you.”

Sounds easy when it’s laid out. What makes it hard in real practice is doing all of the above while the receiver of your “authentic self representation” thinks you’re just being a stubborn ass. Or too dogmatic. Or a pig-headed fool.

Hold yourself firm. They may accuse you of being a farm animal, but learning to calmly represent your truest self to those closest to you is actually among the most human activities of all.

Peace begins with pause,

“We can be knowledgeable with other men’s knowledge, but we can’t be wise with other men’s wisdom.”
(Montaigne)

A teacher can share her intelligence with you. You can attend school or read books to accumulate a vast body of knowledge. The internet gives us access to more information than we ever thought possible.

Wisdom, however, is another thing altogether. Wisdom is skillful living. Wisdom is knowledge applied to real world situations. And wisdom is gained through personal, practical experience—which is something you must gain for yourself.

And so must our children. And our spouses. And our co-workers.

No one can be wise with your wisdom. They must attain their own, so let them. Share your knowledge with them; let them get wisdom for themselves. Then no one can ever take it from them.

Peace begins with pause,

In response to yesterday’s Pause, I received this feedback:

Dear Hal,

This is a bit sad, but possibly worth considering. In my case I am very introverted and in a technical career where I work from home, so if I keep count of “actual” likes I get today, the count might be pretty low. Probably circumstances like mine make Facebook “likes” even more addictive? Or perhaps their hollowness is even more impactful on people like me because on some days that might be the majority of my social interaction, with the exception of my wife and children (who probably save my life every day, in a figurative way at least).

So my point may be that your note today might be even more important for many isolated people, but it will also take some extra effort perhaps to go get a few actual, non-virtual likes.
Please say you enjoyed this email 😉

Dude, I LOVE this email! And the fact that more and more of us are entering daily work lives like yours is all the more reason to build a structure to connect us with the real world. This is counter-cultural, swimming against the current kind of stuff, but we need the HERE, the NOW, and the REAL more than ever.

Also, being introverted doesn’t eliminate your desire for connection; it just shapes how you seek it.

What’s one thing you can do to connect with something/someone real this weekend (not including wife & kids)? What if your life depended on it?

(And that goes for all of us—this is a matter of life and death).

Peace begins with pause,