“Thula, Thula” I’d sing, following the maid around the house as she sang the prayerful lullabye. I could be on her back, tied with a blanket, listening to the Thula Thula song. The song was about a child urged not cry because the father will soon return from work on the gold mine. The song soothed and reached deeply into me, especially while tied to a maid’s back. There was not safer realm. Theres was no place warmer or more comfortable.
At 10 or 11 years old I learned from teenage boys and men named Thulani who came regularly into our dad’s tea-room the name means peace and stillness, to be quiet and comforted.
Temba means hope.
It is the name my adult Zulu friends called me once I reached adulthood and tried to unlearn so many things of childhood.
Although no one said it or taught it, I learned not to reveal excessive interest in the lives of the young men who came daily to the shop but rather to proffer indifference. I knew I was not to walk to the street corner too often in the evenings where they played lively music on guitars, hand made from wood attached to emptied cooking oil containers. No-one had to tell me of the barriers that came with my whiteness. I knew I was not to enjoy watching the young men dance and smoke the loose cigarettes – purchased from me at the tea-room, 2 cents each for unfiltered Lexingtons and 3 cents for filters – and laugh and rough-house bare foot on white suburban corners. The kitchen-boys’ or garden boys’ uniforms, white coarse red or blue trim v-neck shirts marked them legitimate workers in white suburbs even until late at night or at least until dad’s shop closed at 9.
They’d drift off to a concrete block room at the farthest corner of the yard of the property where they worked. The young men washed their master’s car and weeded the master’s yard, helped The Girl in the kitchen. I learned, although no one taught it or said it, to hide my interest. I wanted to join in and enjoy the lively music and playful antics and raucous laughter and the loud conversations which I could not understand.
But, I learned, although no one said it, to turn my desire to belong into a supervisory stance or glare which carried censure of the noise made by African young men in our white neighborhood where they were fortunate we allowed such antics.
Thulani and Temba were embedded into me by women who were our maids and who most certainly but unknowingly provided complete comfort, peace, solace for the living load tightly strapped to her body, riding her back and, everything I ever wanted for my infant son was provided unintentionally for me some 40-something years earlier when they sang his name.
“Choose something easier. Something American,” said a friend, “no one will remember it.”
As well-intentioned as we may be in desiring to avoid conflict and “keep the peace,” we create more problems we must face later by running or playing hide and seek. Then, when we do face matters, we’re not the people we once were.
Avoidance is a quick-change artist! It changes us in ways we are likely to regret.
We cannot solve or improve what we will not face. Denial gets us no place worthy of the journey or the unintended, unwanted destination. Until we gather the courage to look difficult situations directly in the eye and expedite what is necessary to face the difficulties, conflicts will stay as they are and they’re likely to deteriorate.
What we avoid shapes us in ways we may never notice. We modify our habits in order to sustain our denial and avoidance. We change our friendships in order to sustain our patterns. We go out of our way to keep the peace but the new path is one to further avoidance. Our defensive habits defend us in unhealthy and unhelpful ways and make us into people we’d rather not be.
Avoidance of necessary battles creates unintended distance from others — even those we truly love.
There is no worthwhile substitute for early honest approaches to family or business conflicts.
Avoidance makes the heart grow harder.
Ours.
I enjoyed this side-walk art…… 49th and Penn in Meridian Kessler, Indianapolis
I shall strive to speak and teach as one who has indeed much to learn.
In every classroom we are all learners.
I shall strive to listen to people in the class (and out of it) as if I were listening to the mountains.
Mountains reveal their real beauty to the dedicated observer, beauty that’s easily missed by those who offer casual hurried glances or who are themselves caught up in how they look or are dressed or what the student may think of them.
Can there be a greater privilege than jetting to Penang to teach Family Systems?
Real leaders, authentic leaders, as opposed to those who are in it for the illusion of power, love of money or the mirage of status will face multiple paradoxes and do so constantly.
Yes – daily.
It comes with the role – the “role” and not position. Leading is what leaders do.
It’s a function.
I have known “leaders” whose names are boldly declared on a suite’s entry – or the headmaster’s office, or the pastor’s study – but the leader is an under-appreciated someone somewhere whose name is upon nothing, and definitely not on a fat cheque.
Leaders lead, but must also follow.
It’s an art.
Leaders go first, but must also hold back, and know when to go last.
It’s a dance.
Leaders know that leaders are servers, first.
Leaders try to understand those whom they lead, yet cannot let their desire to understand, desire for empathy, derail decisions that are best for the whole, the calling, the gravitas, the goodness of the organization they lead.
Real leaders are aware that if they cannot lead themselves, monitor themselves, hold-onto themselves, they can lead anyone anywhere worth going.
Leaders are self-aware, self-assured, not selfish or self-less.
It’s an inner-tango, often the limbo, seldom a waltz.
And, here’s the kicker – it’s a solitary dance no matter what the music.
“There are two sides to every story” is a common belief.
I am of the opinion that things are usually more layered. It is probably more like 7 or 9 sides to every story.
Motivation – the “inside story” – is similar.
What drives me – or holds me back, demands I succeed, or prefers I don’t – is usually more than one or two identifiable factors. People have mixed, often confusing motivations. Hidden, often unknown internal compelling swells drive people to surf historic and aspirational waves.
Getting to the bottom of motive can be like any journey, beautiful, pleasing, satisfying, sometimes uncomfortably revealing.
Time spent with a wildly successful person who donates to great causes and is appropriately honored for doing so led him to inform that very few people know how angry he really is at extended family who unashamedly live off him.
“I have to,” he said, “I have to support them. My wife knows it makes me angry. Everything is for my (deceased) parents.”
Motives are cloaked, mixed bags, driving from deep within, often yielding incredibly beautiful results.
Considering others, delivering acts of kindness, will likely be of much benefit to people on the receiving end.
But, as a direct result of acts of consideration and kindness, possibilities for more such acts will kick into gear.
How could I use my power, as limited as it may be, to open opportunities for people?
I’m in no particular hurry and so I can move to the end of the line, or at least suggest those who are rushed for time go ahead of me.
I have more than I ever need or use so I will find creative ways to share and spread the favor that’s been mine.
This kind of thinking is good for our minds, hearts, wills, souls, spirits, as elusive as these “places” are that work together within us and define and shape who we are.
Looking for ways to consider others puts our selfishness and entitlement (at least temporarily) on hold while such thinking engages self awareness and service.
It’s healthy thinking.
It’s win-win thinking that even while we are thinking the thinking it realigns our attitudes and restores hope.
Considering others broadens, sharpens personal vision, does its part in renewing the mind. This can only have positive results, except for committed cynics, of whom, sadly, there are many.
The question is answered if I embrace the wealthy and look down on people of limited means.
If I am ignored by a waiter in a restaurant and threaten to withhold a tip or “go to the top” I have decided who I want to be.
If snubbed and I retaliate, my actions answer the question.
If I return evil for evil I have decided.
I am constantly revealing who I want to be.
Who I am is the product of thousands-upon-thousands of choices, and more, compounding, forming into habits that build platforms for actions and shape the lenses through which I see and respond to the world.
I will always be who I have always been when I am unthinking, reactive, and act out of entrenched stereotypes.
Until I am available for something different, acknowledge there may exist new and more gracious ways for me to be, I will be who I have always been.
The question, “what kind of person do I want to be?”, demands I take responsibility for myself and my behavior. It’s not the waiter, the line at the bank, the government, a dysfunctional family or unhappy childhood, or whomever a person may choose to blame.
This most helpful and life-changing question is answered in my every-day routines, my attitudes, and interactions.
Within each person is a holy place called The Self. It is here, in the deepest recesses of who each of us is, that the human spirit, soul, and intellect meld, forming the powerhouse for who each of us is. And, the subtle art of self-care (“subtle” because there is a delicate difference between being self-caring, selfish, and self-serving) is fundamental to good mental, emotional, and relational health.
Appropriate self-care is neither selfish nor self-indulgent. It is not self-centered-ness. It is not self-serving. It is self-awareness. It’s self-monitoring, with the firm understanding that each person is responsible for the condition of his or her self. Each of us is responsible for how we relate to all others (to neither dominate or be dominated). Each of us is responsible, when it comes to all other adults, for maintaining relationships that exemplify mutuality, respect, and equality.
Part of self-care is the enduring understanding that each person has a voice to be respected, a role to be fulfilled, and callings to be pursued. Every person (every Self) requires room to grow, space apart from others, while at the same time requiring meaningful intimacy and connection with others. The healthy Self is simultaneously connected and separate, underscoring again the subtlety required in the art of self-care.
I sometimes hear people of different faiths and denominations proclaiming to be “more spiritual” than others. Here’s a checklist list I hope is helpful.
A so-called “spiritual person”:
-Accepts and respects all people without prejudice. He or she does not allow creed, age, economic status, sexual orientation, or gender, or national heritage to shape his or her opinions or treatment of others.
-Forgives others for real or perceived grievances, yet puts in place necessary measures for future protection.
-Is good with money; understands money and how it works, and yet, at the same time, remains very generous.
-Repairs relationships where repair is possible but remains aware that not all relationships are forever and not all relationship breakdowns can or even can or should be repaired.
-Is free of the manipulation, intimidation, and domination of others and expects others to be similarly free.
-Cleans up quickly – emotionally, psychologically, and in every other way.
-Takes full responsibility for his or her life.
-Has no interest in power and its trappings, yet is invested in empowering others to live as powerfully as possible.
-Addresses conflicts and problems head-on and as efficiently as possible.
Apart from thinking outside of the box (kindly forgive the cliche) my challenge to myself, my sons, and those whom I have the joy of teaching, is to think alone. Have thoughts, plans, aspirations, that are not determined or shaped by commercials, fads, friends, or even by immediate and extended family.
This is a tough but liberating challenge. I encounter people who appear terrified to allow an independent thought to cross their beautiful minds. They give a sideways or backward glance seeking affirmation before the thought is permitted to step out.
The joy of owning their own thoughts, exploring unique possibilities even within their own heads, it appears, will not be theirs.
The fear cripples into conformity.
Seth Godin, speaker and top-selling writer, used the term “sheepwalking” in Tribes to describe mindless following.
I’ve extended his metaphor:
“Sheep-thinking” – borrowing thinking from others for fear of having an original or contrary thought.
“Sheep-talking” – sounding just like everyone else sounds, something particularly noticeable in churches and faith movements.
“Sheep-feeling” – to feel what everyone else feels, not in empathy or solidarity but in being caught up or swept up by the emotion of the moment.
“Sheeping” has become my catchall when it’s happening within me and I hear or see it around me.
Photographed in #Curitiba, %Brazil, with permission,
difficultrelationships.com 