The STOP Method: A Simple Way to Lean Gently Into Difficult Conversations
A few months back, my good friend James A. Pearson wrote that we are “listened into being.”
“I don’t think it’s too much to say that we’re listened into being.
As kids we become legible to ourselves largely by how those closest to us listen to, understand, and reflect us.
It’s a need that continues throughout our lives.
Especially when you’re in a season of change, when the identity large enough to hold your next chapter hasn’t yet been fully formed or articulated.
A space of curious, compassionate listening is the chrysalis from which your next shape will emerge.”
In my life, I can identify numerous folks who have been part of my becoming in this way: my parents, my 10th grade history teacher Mr. Yudin, my closest friends, and so on.
Each has listened to me in the ways I needed to be heard in those moments – and in their presence and reflection, they taught me to become “me” more fully and more bravely.
But as I’ve been reflecting on this, I’ve also been thinking about how often I, myself, choose to listen in such a deep and present way – and to whom I listen to.
How often do I listen deeply to those who don’t see the world the same as I do?
How often do I listen deeply to people who challenge me?
How often do I truly listen deeply to myself?
And in this, another question emerges for me:
If we listen each other into being, how might my presence with others embody and invite the kind of changes I wish to see in the world?
As many do, I have a member of my extended family who is about as MAGA as they come.
He has Donald Trump’s face on his fridge; a campaign “thank you” for donating; a magnet saying something or other about “winning.”
If I’m honest, I don’t know how to relate to him in any deep way – we see the world differently, have a different set of values, and our own disparate datasets to go with them. But he loves our family and I do too…and thus we find ourselves in strange company: neither understanding the other and yet deeply caring for some of the same people. (And learning to care for each other, as well.)
All that to say, I have frequent opportunities to decide how I show up within such a relationship.
I could step into fight-mode with my facts and figures; argue about morals and basic human decency; or point out every time he repeats a line I’ve already heard from a conservative pundit. I could shrink myself down and fall into silence at every problematic statement or excited “Trump is going to fix this or that” one-liner. I could even shape-shift myself into someone else, nodding along so he assumes we agree, just hoping to move to a new topic sooner than later.
But none of these approaches would lead to much positive change, or ultimately feel good at all, as those of you who find yourselves in similar dynamics know well.
What is there to do when we are so intimately connected with someone who is so opposed to most of what we believe?
I’m not really sure. It’s a brutally ongoing question, with the answer sure to change based on our season of life, the context of the relationship, and about a hundred other factors.
But, in this particular slow-moving conflict, I have an inkling the way through is by honoring the centrality of relationship.
So I’m trying a new thing – or at least it’s new for me, in this context. It’s a simple technique I was taught years ago by a former therapist:
S: Stop. Pause when I feel my nervous system spike.
T: Take a Breath: Take a slow and intentional breath, focusing on inhalation and exhalation.
O: Observe: Notice what’s happening in my body and acknowledge the thoughts and feelings I’m experiencing. Scan the room.
P: Proceed Curiously: Proceed with curiosity, choosing to ask open questions and respond with caring reflection.
The key for me here is this: instead of fighting or sliding into silence (which is often my default), I want to stop and ask a question instead: What did you mean when you said…? How do you think that will feel for…? Are there other ways we might…?
I’m not sure if this will work for me in how I show up with this person – I admit it feels inadequate, like a non-resolution to the question, and not fast enough at all. And there will certainly be moments when I just need to directly push back against one thing or another – if not for the relationship, than to stay true to my own sense of integrity and dignity.
But if, as James says, we are “listened into being,” perhaps I might be one more person in his life who listens deeply to him, rather than simply “navigates” him. And maybe through this shift that I can make, he might feel invited into becoming a bit less guarded, a bit more soft, and a bit more open to the vast and diverse world around him.
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