“Play is the exultation of the possible.”
(Martin Buber)

One of the things separating mammals from reptiles is the ability to play. Dogs can play fetch, for instance, and even cats can play with a ball of yarn.

Reptiles, on the other hand, are serious creatures, incapable of play (You can’t play fetch with a lizard). Some are even deadly serious, all the time. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons we call evil people “cold-blooded.”

One of the joys of parenting is watching our young children just play. They shed their self-consciousness, let go of any perfectionism, and get lost in the exuberance of the game.

When’s the last time you did the same? Whether on the ground with your kids, or on the court with your friends, or in the bedroom with your spouse? We could all use a little more playfulness in our lives.

Peace begins with pause,

“My number one thing to work on is not being reactive – but appropriateness doesn’t come easily to me sometimes. ”
(Courtney Love)

It’s been well-documented that food allergy reactions are, for some reason, on the rise. I would offer that an even worse kind of reactivity is also on an uptick: emotional reactivity (which we call “screaming”)

Don’t get me wrong; people have always freaked out on each other. But I think you’d agree, that in our era of instant electronic connection, people are freaking out more than ever. Quick, unthoughtful, cruel tweets. Trolls online, filling up comment pages with instant negativity. Couples breaking up because one of ‘em took too long to reply to a text. (She hasn’t texted me back, and it’s been over 20 minutes! She must be cheating!)

A hundred years ago, when people traveled by train or boat, the loved ones left behind would have to wait days or weeks to hear from their dearly departed. Word would finally come through a carefully written postcard or letter. And then they would, upon much reflection, craft a response letter back.

Contrast that with today. As soon as the plane touches down, people rush to whip out their phones, ‘cause Heaven forbid their loved ones go one minute more without knowing if the flight went down in flames.

Yes, emotional reactivity is on the rise, and it’s everywhere. It’s what makes for great reality TV, that’s for sure. But in true reality, it makes for pretty bad relationships. Just like when a body reacts to an allergen, people can react to a perceived threat, or slight, by choking off any future possibilities. That’s the real power of reactivity—it usually creates the very outcomes you were hoping to avoid. A friend fears you’re being too distant, for instance. Now, maybe you’re pulling away from this person intentionally, maybe not. But your friend gets reactive and starts trying to pull you closer in (constantly texting, inviting you to all kinds of stuff, complaining about you to your mutual friends). Suddenly you find yourself wanting to create even more distance! Your friend reacted to feelings of distance, and thus ended up creating more distance in the process.

That’s how reactivity works. Get reactive; get more of what you were reacting to. Or worse. You think a boss is treating you unfairly? Get in her face, or whine about her to others, and guess what? Don’t be surprised if they fire you. Perhaps unfairly, but still.

So, does all this mean we should go through life in a cold, unresponsive way? Never replying to anything for fear of creating the very outcomes we were hoping to avoid? Absolutely not. In fact, that type of cutting yourself off from any and all stimuli is just another form of screaming. Neither freaking out, nor becoming stone cold and silent, is advisable. Both are just reactions, bound to backfire. Think about it: if the body did nothing at all in response to an allergic threat—that could be just as destructive as an anaphylactic reaction. So what do we do?

Learn to respond more, and react less. What’s the difference? A response is thoughtful, while a reaction is an automatic reflex. A response is careful, while a reaction is careless. A response is measured—informed by education, experience, and an estimate of its immediate and long-term effects. When we respond, rather than react, we actually communicate from our highest principles and deepest desires. Reactions, on the other hand, come straight from our most shallow anxieties and fears.

In many ways, this principle is the foundation of all that we teach at ScreamFree.
 

Peace begins with pause,

“Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative,friend, acquaintance, or stranger.”
(Franklin P. Jones)

We all need to improve. In theory, we all know this, but hearing the actual words can throw us for a loop. Especially when we don’t see them coming.

Because of this, most of us avoid doing the very thing that will not only make these remarks easier to take, but eliminate the need for many of them in the first place. What is that one thing?

Simple…you ask people you trust and respect to give you honest feedback.

It will usually hurt at first, but like jogging or lifting weights, the more you do it, the easier the task will become. If we could learn to seek out that type of honest criticism from those closest to us, and then listen, we would grow by leaps and bounds.

Be careful, though…don’t ask people to tell you how you could improve and then get defensive and tell them they are wrong. That’s even worse than never asking in the first place.

Peace begins with pause,

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.”
(Anne Lamott)

If we examined our definition of “perfect,” we see it is often so unrealistic that it could never exist in one person. We want to be beautiful and intelligent. We want to be an amazing cook and a professional athlete. We want to be desired in every arena from the boardroom to the bedroom. What we really want, it turns out, is to edit together all the best bits of all the people we admire, roll them into one person, and then be that person.

Impossible.

Instead of aiming for perfection, aim for growth. This begins by giving yourself permission to be imperfect, which allows you to discover self-worth in the midst of your imperfections. It also makes you much easier to be around, which helps establish relationships with people who affirm and value you for who you are right now. All of this makes real life improvement much more likely to occur. Want to start working on that growth and become the best you can be? There’s no better way than with the Pause Platform as your guide. Start your free trial today!

Peace begins with pause,

“When you wish to instruct, be brief; then men’s minds take in quickly what you say, learn its lesson, and retain it faithfully. Every word that is unnecessary only pours over the side of a brimming mind.”
(Cicero)

There is one cardinal rule for public speaking: leave ’em wanting more. This may frustrate a few folks, but it is far better to deal with a few participants’ lingering complaints than a whole audience’s longing for an exit.

Part of the need for this rule is due to our ever-shrinking attention spans; we don’t want to lose people to the ever-increasing distractions all around us. More importantly, however, we leave them this way because want to establish a lasting relationship with people, where they continue to seek us out for wisdom in the future.

The same could not be more true in our relationships, or any leadership role. In the few moments you actually have someone’s full attention, remember that less is more. Don’t drag on before you make your point. Don’t besiege your listener with unnecessary evidence. Don’t beat your point into a dead horse. Don’t…(get the picture?)

Above all, be brief. You might actually leave your child, or employee, or lover, wanting more from you.

Peace begins with pause,

“Don’t laugh at a youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.”
(Logan Pearsall Smith (1865-1946))

Children, like adults, long to be taken seriously. Hopes, dreams, fears, and hurts are every bit as real to kids as they are to us. Whether it’s a toddler who is afraid of the dark or a teen who has just had her heart broken, we can really make a difference if we can empathize with them rather than ridicule or dismiss them.

Remember, kids are in the process of becoming. They are trying on all sorts of personalities, likes, dislikes, and attitudes to see what fits them best. The more supportive you can be in what matters to them, and the less reactive you get in the heat of their varied moments, the better off you’ll both be.

Peace begins with pause,

“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
(George Bernard Shaw)

We all do a lot of arguing these days. New media platforms have profited on polarization, and our multimedia megaphones have turned us all into pundits. It’s gotten ridiculous. What’s especially concerning is the way we argue. Without having formal debate rules, and without having to actually face a conversational opponent in person, we tend to become reactive blame-throwers, name-callers, and fear-mongers.

Here’s one particular argument tactic we’ve all used to protect ourselves from adapting and growing: the so-called “slippery slope” argument.

For instance, Obamacare activists employ the slippery slope argument against any kind of new changes anywhere. “If we lose the mandate portion, we’ll lose the whole thing soon enough!”

Gun rights activists do the same thing: “If we up the age requirement to 21, or ban AR-15s altogether, then it’s just a slippery slope toward the government taking all our guns away!”

We do this in our relationships as well: “If I give in one inch on the idea of going to her family’s Christmas this year, even though we went there last year, I may as well kiss my family Christmas’s goodbye.” Or, like this: “If I do this new sexual act with my spouse, it won’t be long before I’m doing God knows what!”

We do this in our parenting, too: “Well, if we allow this video game, won’t we just end up allowing all video games?”

While understandable, this mode of thinking is, frankly, not helpful. It actually keeps parties from ever discussing new, negotiated agreements. It also prevents the discovery and introduction of new information, which might alter everyone’s position. The result is simply more and more stubborn intractability.

Creative solutions, to even our most polarized issues, exist in abundance. All we need first is the courage to entertain slight shifts in our thinking, without automatically assuming this will lead to losing our whole core interest.

We can do this.

Peace begins with pause,

“What I do know is that Dylan did show outward signals of depression, signs my husband and I observed but were not able to decode. If we had known enough to understand what those signs meant, I believe that we would have been able to prevent Columbine.”
(Sue Klebold, A Mother’s Reckoning)

Every time there’s a new, horrific school shooting, I’m reminded of my own childhood:

–In 3rd grade, way back in 1981, our whole elementary school was put on lockdown after a young man shot and killed his father in their home about 200 yards away from the school, and he was then on the loose in the neighborhood.

–In 6th grade, in 1984, a friend of mine narrowly dodged a bullet that shattered the glass in the front doors of the school, shot by a man in a car parked a few hundred yards away.

–A few years later, there was a boy we were all a little afraid of. His name was Ricky. Once, at a high school football game, I got word he wanted to “kick my ass.” Thankfully, Ricky was friends with Jeremy and Ryan, two popular and powerful guys who intervened on my behalf. A few months later, with the rifle they had just given him for Christmas, Ricky murdered both of his parents as they slept in their bed.

This time, after Parkland, I decided to re-read Sue Klebold’s book, A Mother’s Reckoning. The mother of Dylan Klebold, one of the Columbine shooters back in 1999, Sue bravely published her gut-wrenching story in 2016, and it is a haunting account of a parent’s worst nightmare. Her boy, whom she had loved and nurtured as well as any other parent she knew, had become a suicidal murderer right under her nose.

Reading this book is not easy; since you know the horrific way Dylan ended his life and many others’, learning about his childhood and their family life up to that point is dread-inducing.

And yet, given the events in Parkland, their story is vital to understanding, and hopefully preventing future tragedies. It is also helpful for all of us to understand our sons better, and improve the ways we’re raising men.

That’s the one thing these incidences have in common with each other, and with almost every incidence of school violence: They were all perpetrated by young men.

This is especially true of mass shootings. By several estimates, 94-98% of mass shootings are committed by males. Of course, the vast majority of men are never violent, much less homicidal. But this is, shall we say, a very strong statistical correlation. So what is it that leads boys and men SO much more likely to commit violence? And is there anything we can do about it?

Part of the problem is our stubborn clinging to simplified notions about men and emotions. For instance, boys early on are given far more messages than girls about suppressing their feelings:

Stop your crying.
I’ll give you something to cry about.
Girls are supposed to be the ones who are emotional.
Boys don’t cry.

It’s not as if boys don’t feel all the same emotions girls do; they are just culturally discouraged from openly feeling and expressing them. What this translates to is that by and large, boys don’t cry out. They don’t ask for help. They don’t have a vocabulary, much less the role models, for talking about their emotions.

Are there gender differences when it comes to emotions? Of course. But that doesn’t mean one gender is more emotional; it just means they may experience emotions differently, and this then gets exacerbated by cultural socialization.

Young men, for instance, are receiving constant images and messages that their authentic masculinity is to be found in physical size and strength. Men are defined by their toughness, by their ability to dominate over other men, and by their choosing to avoid any signs of “weak, female” emotions like pain, vulnerability, sadness, compassion, or fear.

At the same time, though, boys are to discover and even nurture the “tough, male” emotions, like anger, dominance, and vengeance. Walk onto most practice fields and you’ll hear some form of this being preached constantly. Sports have taught our sons, far more than we realize, that success is achieved by size, strength, playing through pain, and aggression. Especially aggression.

One of my coaching clients told me about one such example, involving a baseball hitting lesson for his son.  The coach asked his son to get mad. The boy was about 12, and apparently not showing the kind of aggression the instructor thought necessary for him to become a great hitter. To help his son find such aggression, the coach asked him to actively think of something he was really angry at, and channel that anger through his swing.

“What makes you really mad, dude?!?!” he barked.

After a pause, my client’s son shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Nothing I can think of,” he said. (The sports dad part of my client admitted he was a tiny bit dismayed, but the vast majority of him was quite happy his son was so…well, happy.)

Real men are supposed to be dominant, aggressive, competitive, and tough. So what’s a boy to do when he feels scared, sad, insecure, and anxious?

Well, obviously, some men kill when they’re afraid, while feeling ashamed of being afraid. And some men use violence when they try to hide their intense emotional pain until it’s too much to shield, and they decide to “share” it by inflicting physical pain on others.

Emotional regulation is the key to all human success, and yet the most dominant message boys receive is emotional denial, or suppression.

Some things to do:

1. Let’s become better observers of our sons

Here are some of the signs of teenage male depression:
–any sudden changes in sleep, eating patterns, weight, acne, friends, homework, relationship with parents or siblings, religious observance, and screen usage
–any dramatic increase in withdrawal behaviors, like holing up in his room, not replying to calls or texts
–any expressions whatsoever of a desire to hurt himself or someone else, a feeling of being a burden to you, or a desire for revenge on someone
–any signs of drug or alcohol abuse
–any new interest in guns, explosives, mass murders, terrorism
–any expressions of having no motivation to do anything, even pleasurable things he once enjoyed

That last sign is one that’s not talked about nearly enough. It’s called anhedonia, and it’s an inability to experience pleasure. This is a telltale sign of depression in anyone, and in many ways is the worst part—you literally cannot imagine doing anything, anywhere, with anyone that would make you feel better.

2. Let’s become better listeners to our sons

The most heartbreaking part of Sue Klebold’s confessional book is when she details how, during his junior year, Dylan began spending more time with Eric Harris. She observed how Dylan couldn’t say “no,” to him, like he could his other friends, even asking her to fake “forbid” him when he really didn’t want to go hang out with Eric. One night, in a moment of clarity and openness, Dylan told his mom, “Eric’s crazy.”

Like all parents tend to do, she responded with a speech: “You’re going to meet people all your life who are difficult, and I’m glad you have enough common sense to recognize it when you see it.” She followed with: “I told him his dad and I had a lot of confidence in his ability to make good choices, with or without his friends.”

This incident is perhaps her greatest regret:

“Our confidence was obviously misplaced, but neither did we have any idea of what Dylan was dealing with. I had no inkling that the situation might be truly dangerous. Nor did I have any conception of what Dylan meant by ‘crazy.’”

That, of course, is why she needed to ask more, and tell less: “Crazy, huh? Your friend, Eric? What do you mean?” Put forth calmly, without even adding eye contact, this question could’ve changed everything.

And it’s a lesson for us all. I confess I’ve done this as well. I’m a trained expert, and there are many times I lectured my teens when I should have listened, so it’s perfectly understandable Sue Klebold, and perhaps you, would make this mistake as well.

But not anymore. I hear parents complain all the time about their teen sons not opening up enough, or telling them anything. But every time we dig deeper, there are moments here and there when our boys, like volcanoes, release tiny cracks of self-revelation.

Get curious. Get gently inquisitive. Your boy complains about homework, ask him, “What’s the hardest part?” Your teen makes an offhanded comment about someone, follow up: “Hmmm…tell me more about that.” As always be conscious of your tone, resisting like crazy to sound panicked or suspicious. Growing boys can be like frightened turtles, especially in adolescence, but even they crave to come out of their shell once in a while. Don’t pounce on them, but don’t ignore them either.

Here’s one of the best ways I know to open up a line of dialogue with our sons about emotions like anger and depression: Ask them about their friends. Here’s how you do it:

A. Get away for some one-on-one time. Text or tell your son something like this: “Hey man, you & me, Steak & Shake, 6pm.” (This is an exact copy of a text I sent to my 18yo last week. He replied: “Aye, aye, captain.”)

B. Use this latest Parkland tragedy as an starter, asking him what he thought about it, and what he and his friends have said about it.

C. Now, surprise him by NOT asking him about whether he’s ever felt angry like that, or depressed enough to hurt himself or others. In a great twist, ask him about his friends. “Do you have any friends you’ve ever been concerned about?” Tell him, “I know you really love your friends, have you ever noticed anything like (then throw out a few of the depression signs mentioned above in #1.)

D. Finally, you can gently turn the questions his way: “You ever have any of those experiences? What do you think you’d do if you did feel some of those feelings? Who would you feel safe enough to tell?” Do NOT follow this up with a lecture about how he NEEDS to tell you, or how available you are. Listen to what he says, and don’t take it personally if he doesn’t mention you as a resource. Just listen well in this very instance, and it will increase the chances he’ll open up to you in the future.

3. Let’s become better models for our sons

The only way boys and young men will naturally begin to see emotional expression and regulation as normal is if they swim in it. Like the young fish who has no idea what water is, young boys who regularly see their fathers do the following will come to expect such behavior from themselves and other boys and men:
–thoughtfully express their emotions, both verbally and physically;
–show assertiveness without aggression and passion without rage;
–embrace vulnerable relationships with other men; and
–willingly ask for help

In a touching op-ed essay in response to the Parkland tragedy, comedian Michael Ian Black writes “America’s boys are broken.” I would not completely agree, but I would definitely agree our ways of raising men need to be re-evaluated and re-engineered in the 21st century.

Our boys are crying out, in fact, in subtle and not-so-obvious ways. It is our job to become better observers, listeners, and models.

Peace begins with pause,

“Most conversations are merely monologues delivered in the presence of witnesses.”
(Margaret Millar)

Learning to truly engage in conversation is among life’s greatest blessings, and one of its stiffest challenges. We have to listen with our full focus, restrain the need to quickly correct or critique what we just heard, and then represent ourselves with calm, clear authenticity.

No wonder it hardly ever happens.

But all that can change for you this weekend. Challenge yourself to listen to someone in conversation. Pause, block everything else out, ask gentle follow up questions for clarity only, and then pause again. Surprise yourself (and your conversation partner) with how much attention you pay to the actual words they say.

Peace begins with pause,

“That is what marriage really means: helping one another to reach the full status of being persons, responsible and autonomous beings who do not run away from life.”
(Paul Tournier)

In this rapidly-changing world of romantic relationships, we are all having to adjust to some new terms. Committed couples, refusing marriage but calling themselves life-partners. Same-sex couples, pursuing marriage, with wives and husbands having…wives and husbands.

In all this change, there’s one term growing in popularity, and it is definitely growing on me: “significant other.”

So much gets represented in those words: Jenny is the most important person in my life, and I fully recognize she is not me; she is an…other.

So many problems in romance begin by not recognizing the otherness of our mate. We get anxious when we disagree, or see the same situation quite differently, or begin to change our previously held notions. So, we try to negate this otherness with persuasion, or passive-aggressive manipulation, or screaming into submission.

Everything changes when we remember this:

What attracted us to another person was the fact they were an…other. Just because they became our most significant other doesn’t negate the beautiful truth of their difference from us.

Peace begins with pause,