What if Irony is Judging Others for Lacking Empathy?
When people say
“I feel uncertain.”
The temptation
is to say something clever,
like
“There was never a time
that was certain.”
As true
as that may be,
that can shut down
a valuable opportunity
for innovation,
where we can support their reflection
on what negative outcome
feels certain.
Those of us
who started our companies
with nothing more
than “I want this!”
often lost our way
when we started wanting
things others say we should want
or things we assumed others wanted.
It was often
not until we got near the death
of our companies
and had to face
either those to whom we are indebted
or those whom we had to let go,
that we were forced
to return to the simple question
“What do I want?”
A question often misunderstood
as an expression of greed
or selfishness,
when in fact,
it can be the fuel
for the most empathic expression.
An expression that can provide value
to our customers,
partners,
employees,
shareholders
family
and ourselves.
An expression
born out
of a beginner’s mindset.
We often confuse
rumination
with reflection
When we ruminate,
our minds race,
overwhelming us with anxiety,
which makes it difficult for us
to think
or to communicate
clearly
and effectively.
In this state,
those around us
can feel confused
and insecure,
which leaves them
unwilling
or unable
to support us,
which then leaves us
feeling isolated
and lonely,
which fuels our anxiety
and overwhelm.
A vicious cycle,
this is.
What does it mean
to reflect?
Stand in front of a mirror.
The mirror
will reflect.
By mirror,
I mean a relationship
from which we can receive the choice
to see ourselves
from an interfacing
perspective.
By an interfacing perspective,
I mean a perspective
from which we can receive the choice
to see ourselves
as an “other”
with which we can empathize
without hyper-empathizing.
Go ahead.
Look into the mirror
and see yourself as an “other”
with which you can empathize
without hyper-empathizing.
Now,
by look,
I mean receive the choice
to recognize,
acknowledge,
and appreciate
parts of your “self”
by recognizing,
acknowledging,
and appreciating
parts of
the “other.”
Parts you forgot
or did not know
to recognize,
acknowledge,
and appreciate.
I mean give these parts
the choice
to feel seen.
The choice
to matter.
And by giving this choice,
may you realize
that this
is a loop,
where giving
does not constitute losing,
and receiving
is not predicated on lacking.
A loop,
where fear and shame
can make way
for flow.
…
Whether we reflect
through journaling,
through coaching,
or otherwise…
May this be a guide.
On Sunday, I turned 41.
I’ve been told that in “Korean age” I’m 42.
There’s something interesting about reflecting on what happened in the past after I have had a 10+year distance from it.
In my 20s, I listened to a lot of computer scientists’ inspiring lectures. They were world-famous, which gave their words that much more weight. In hindsight, it would have been one thing to learn of their views and to appreciate them for what they were (i.e. views) while quite another to be persuaded by them. For better or for worse, I leaned toward the latter.
In hindsight, there were a few critical reasons why their views had such a big impact on me.
All throughout my 20s, my tendency to hyper-empathize with these influential figures grew larger. As a result, I now understand my 20s as a phase of living their lives not mine. It wouldn’t be until I turn 30 that I realize how easy it is to confuse living someone else’s life with living our own.
Then at the age of 29, I received a challenge. A bewildering challenge at that. One that made no sense. An artist I met at a computer science conference challenged me to go to art school. It seemed like a crazy and irrational idea. Especially because I thought so little of art at the time. I was a man of science, engineering, and design science. Art, I thought, was fluffy, useless, bullshit. In fact, you may have noticed that I put the word “science” next to the word “design” a la Buckminster Fuller, as if to imply that the word design alone was somehow not good enough. “Why would a man of science, engineering, and design science stoop so low as to study art?” was the kind of thought I had back then. (Arrogant much?)
It took me over a year since receiving this challenge of conducting my own, *ahem* scientific, experiments and to gradually build the trust & respect necessary to empathize with artists. When I finally did, it also became clear that this was a challenge I could not refuse. I had to answer the challenge. Why? Because I realized that not answering the challenge meant continuing to live someone else’s life.
Living someone else’s life of rebellion didn’t give me a sense of comfort, but it did give me a sense of safety and that ever-so-desirable feeling that what I’m doing was “important work” that “mattered.” Yet, for better or for worse, I was no longer interested in safety or mattering. I was now interested in being honest with myself in ways I had never been. I was willing to break myself wide open to find out what the hell was inside me instead of continuing to chase after something outside of me because an influential figure had persuaded me into thinking that it was the right thing to do.
For better or for worse, that’s precisely what art and my 30s offered me. It forced me to face my deepest & darkest fears. It crushed every little belief and assumption I had developed over the years. It shook me to my core and took me places I’m both horrified and grateful to have been.
To be clear, I do not recommend this to anyone. I’ll spare you the details for now as I’m not quite ready to write about them just yet. Maybe give me another 10 years.
Above all, I say all this to set myself up to say “thank you” to all those who have stuck by my side throughout my 30s. That’s it really. Because it is through your grace that I’m still alive today both psychologically and physically. I will never forget that.
You know who you are.
May you stay beautiful, always.
with warmth and curiosity,
slim
photo credit to Sue Langford