Quiet Quiet Quiet, my unkle hushed us, she’s talking – ….turn right 800m - she commanded in a sexy kind of way. She, was my unkle’s new master it seemed. Dubbed Einstein, although curiously with a woman’s voice, this free app for the iPhone promised clear directions to anywhere, although a casual observer could easily see this was not always the case. Nonetheless, she had the most prominent seat at the table, or in this case – the most prominent audible position in the 5 series Beemer which was jetin’ down the Autobahn, under the reasonably firm control of my brother.
But brother had the disease, that terrible - I can’t hear you ‘cause I’m not-really-listening-to-you while you’re giving me directions disease. He’s not alone, certainly. I suffer from it, and so do many others. Indeed it’s a bit curious why so many of us resist useful knowledge generally and directions in particular. Jokes abound about men who can’t receive directions. Generally though, they sure can give them. And, that was happening in a huge way.
To be fair, my bro was extra stimulated. As he was designated driver, after my unkle, who finally surrendered control of the 4000 pound rolling steel cage. Surrendered it, because he was having bizarre stroke like symptoms in his eye over the previous few days. Still, like a good male, and the registered German owner of that fine vehicle built in Germany, and if you can believe it, 10 other countries currently. Unkle did drive for the first hour or so, before assuming shot gun position for the rest of the trip to Hamburg, the massive inland port in the north of Muenster.
How many people does it take to drive a car filled with my family you ask – everyone. It was truly comical, and a bit of a carryover from the night before when an octogenarian auntie was driving us to dinner. It seems clear driving at night, with a load full of boisterous helpful extended family members, should be avoided for everyone’s safety by my dear aunt.
At all events, we were cruising up the Autobahn and we couldn’t help but notice the tremendous numbers of big wind machines churning away. Despite the intermittent and not-on-demand nature of these machines, I was thrilled to see so many. Germany is a major leader with roughly ¼ of the Europeans 84,000 installed MW, nearly twice as much as China or the US.
A conversation began about which way the wind flows through the machines. Dad, who is very knowledgeable on many fronts, and definitely all things power, floated the counter-intuitive proposition that the wind flows from the back of the machine – the motor side. Brother did not agree.
What ensued was comical, instructive and sadly, a bit tragic.
Although there was definitely over 3 hours left in the drive, and I imagined everyone could have said everything they ever wanted to about wind power in under 20 minutes, you wouldn’t know it by the constant interruptions.
Initially, I took a position but quickly backed out and mostly observed, asked the odd clarifying question, and mostly commented on the process.
Back and forth it went between these two fine men. Soon, a bet was suggested, which morphed into simply, an apology would be offered by the position holder who ended up being -da da dahhhhh - wrong.
It was almost surreal to watch - One man would speak, but before he could finish the other would interrupt and affirm their position. The other, pissed off at not being fully heard, repeated the cycle. While often people feel they haven’t been heard because the other did not agree with them. In this case, they simply were not heard – were not allowed to finish.
Saying it Louder and repeating it Again was the tactic used on both sides, as things escalated. As we all know, when it said again, it is more true, less false, and definitely so- if it is said louder.
As the voices rose, momma bear declared, no more. Just forget it. Stop talking about it. This too is a doomed strategy, as nothing was really resolved. A mentor of mine, and of many others in the family has a story that goes like this: My parents lied to me. They said that time heals all wounds, but in fact – when you just leave wounds unaddressed, don’t attend to them - they just become festering, infected dysfunctions.
Anyways, time-outs became necessary, and eventually, a boundary was agreed upon to not talk about it anymore, and when they had access to a computer they would settle who was right.
The uneasy silence – the ceasing of the energetic exchange -was broken various times. The trees, the trees, the driver called out, calling for their support in his argument. Can’t you see the wind is going in this direction, look at the trees?
Finally, noticing the direction of the flow thru a full wind sock, from an unlicensed aerodrome, alongside the highway, firmly settled the debate.
Wow. Subsequently, discussing this scenario with a couple of objective, informed people they remarked: It seems …that it was disallowed, yah the nourishment that is generated from an exchange when people are fully listening to each other Nourishment denied. The other remarked, that was your primary scenario. And indeed, in a lot of ways it was.
From one view, it was kind of funny. But overall, destructive habits were being practised, revealing and deepening wounds. More clinically, these patterns are deeply engrained, and very difficult to shift. I suffer from it immensely, as do those around me.
To combat such goofiness, rules and tools are useful: Goodwill and a commitment to fairness are necessary precursors to constructive dialog and particularly, a commitment to listen to each other fully. And, critically, when that is not happening, which will no doubt happen a lot, to immediately get each other, and ourselves, back on the good track….!
Oh, to see so much of myself in play, to love these men and myself even more - after accepting my role in the Full on Assery, that engrained that BMW, that fine September morning. These observations and these reflections are a little slice of a human condition, our conditioning. Life is yummy, isn’t it?
No comments:
Post a Comment