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My dog dreams and it’s the cutest thing. His little feet move like he’s padding across the lawn, toes separating and contracting as he paws at an invisible treasure found in his travels. Sometimes he whelps and whimpers. I figure it’s a nightmare. I imagine him conjuring some big, scary dog with a baritone bark or watching me play in the backyard while he looks on longingly from behind the glass patio door.

It breaks my heart to hear that sound. I always want to gently wake him, soothe him with a pet. Sometimes I do. But I try to remind myself that he can figure it out on his own, which is good for him (and me) and that he’s safe.

It’s so hard not to rescue our loved ones, whether they ask for it or not. We are a society that avoids discomfort at every turn. We reduce discomfort by removing uncertainty, by trying to know everything. We are trained to worship intelligence and to share our knowledge so there’s no mistaking how smart and capable we are as we fix things for others. See how much value I can offer you? See what advice I have? See what I've remembered from that 800-page tome? Love me and my brain. Keep me close.

I used to surround myself with opinions and advice, seeking external validation, approval, a confident finger pointed in the direction I should head. But in the process I lost my own internal navigation system. My GPS ran without the necessary software updates and I struggled to identify my true desires, beliefs and values. It became too easy to just follow the crowd or some anointed sage. Even those who were hesitant to offer advice would be tricked into it by my puppy dog pleading, “yes, but what would you do if you were in this situation”.

It wasn’t until I really started to spend some solitary time reflecting on my own beliefs and where they came from, whether they hold up for me today, that I saw clearly how coloured each of our experiences is by our own unique perspectives, risk tolerances, dreams.

Early in my career I worked in the process improvement division of a food manufacturer. I was surrounded by engineers with MBAs—smart people who could calculate standard deviation on a cocktail napkin (maybe I’ll write more about my “training” with that group another time!). For all the schooled intelligence they had, the best thing about their approach and what always led to success was the willingness to ask “why” repeatedly, to not know the answer and avoid making assumptions.

They respectfully and with curiosity dug into the root of organizational processes, which let’s face it are driven by human behaviours. They were trying to understand the beliefs that drove decisions and the habits that had been formed based on those beliefs. They wanted to understand all of the perspectives before testing various theories to uncover a change that could save time, money, stress. They did not prescribe.

Today we’ve been blinded by the so-called divisions in our beliefs that are held up as proof of evil or wrongdoing by people trying to cling to power that we are fearful of asking why. We assume that when we’re asked why we are being challenged as wrong, entering into a debate, defending our position, trying to change someone’s mind and heart. Where is the room for curiosity in the pursuit of growth?

In this day of quick opinions doled out in 240 characters or less, I seek to take the slower path, the conversations that take time and include more questions than answers. I am trying out a new approach when I ask for and receive advice. That is to ask why. I may phrase it as, “what makes you think that?” The purpose is to stay curious and to be open to learning where people are coming from and what beliefs drive their suggestions.

I am trying to view it as such a blessing when someone wants to know what’s driving my actions before jumping to give advice. It is a gift when someone has the patience and open-heartedness to want to know what makes you tick. It helps to clarify my own thinking and feeling as I explain it to someone else. I know I may be off course when I struggle to communicate my “why”.

Even here at the 700-plus word mark, I’ve meandered my way to more questions, to a muddy pool of unknowing on a number of inter-related subjects. The truth is that each of us can only contain a small fraction of knowledge that exists in this world. But we can know ourselves fully and completely. Perhaps if our external world valued our internal experience more than the accumulation of letters after our names, we’d all be better positioned to converse and support each other through the complexities of our changing world with grace and humility. I just don’t know. What do you think?

Lisa
xo

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