Tag Archives: speaking

as fast as it was spoken | on ephesians 4

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sometimes we try to breathe it back in as fast as it was spoken
as fast as it was typed
as fast as it was thought, even, because our thoughts streak across our faces like billboards

and sometimes we want to take it back because it should not have been said
and sometimes we want to take it back because it should have been said but we weren’t ready to say it
and sometimes we want to take it back because
we don’t know if it should have been said or not, but the words came out before it could decide

and to say that we are to “speak the truth in love” seems, really, like a cop out
roll your eyes if you wish, but get serious. truth in love?
in those moments where we find ourselves terrified to tell the truth
to speak the truth in love makes some sense, but not enough to give us wisdom on
what to do when those words have flown out of our mouths
slow style
matrix style words flowing out of our mouths and hitting our minds, sometimes, just after the listener’s ears.

but we know, of course,
that we are called to speak the truth in love
instead of being tossed about here and there and everywhere
by craziness
by drama
by frustration
by insecurity
by scheming
by manipulating
by ripping apart another because it’s all that one in pains know how to do.

and so we know
even when it makes no sense
that we are called to find out what it means
to speak the truth in love,
maybe even more so to listen to the truth in love
so that we can grow into the strong and full people of the new kingdom
ligament by ligament.

sometimes it is too late, because the words have already flown out of our mouths
the words have already been typed
the words have already been thought
and we can’t pull them back in
the slow motion button doesn’t work.

but sometimes, we pause early enough
and a third way emerges.

djordan
Pine Tree Dr.

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reversing the questions

I find myself often asking questions to clients that I know I need to be asking myself. Much of the art of clinical work has little to do with giving answers or telling people what they need to know, as these things are never beneficial when I am struggling with something.

The art seems instead to be in asking the questions, out loud, that we are unable to ask ourselves when we are holding on with dear life to whatever it is that is holding on to us so tightly. And in all the ways that my clients are generous enough with me to offer the space for me to put a new question in the air, it is in that same moment that I hear that question being asked out loud.

Often, like it was today, the words float in space and I recognize that I am hearing the question posed for the very first time as I ask it to the person sitting across from me…

“Why do you think you need the last word?”

“Why do you think it is so important that they understand what you are saying?”

“Why do you think they heard it one way when you intended something very different?”

“Why do you think that became so unbearable for you? What about it is really so impossible?”

‘Why do you think those words from that person meant so much to you?”

“Why do you think you worry about this particular possibility so much?”

“What is it about you that makes this in particular worth so much?”

The bravery my clients show in speaking their realities into the air offers me the opportunity to hear, usually for the first time, the questions that I have not yet been brave enough to ask myself. And so as they share in their own vulnerability, I am able to take a more honest look at whatever is buried in my quiet interior. I am able to ask myself a question that I didn’t even know I needed to ask.

Paired with the gift this has become is the frightening reality that at whatever moment I think I know enough to tell a client what they should know or need to do…in that moment I am missing the opportunity to learn from them what I need to be asking myself.

Their humility and bravery, and generosity with their humanity, are teaching me a great deal about what it means to be a human being in the world.

djordan
Pine Tree

RELATED POSTS | What they are teaching me | What they are teaching me 2 

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daring to speak

Just after a hard rain, the chairs dried but the red brick still slippery wet, we just spent the last few hours out there. Sitting on the front porch, pipe in my hand, cigar in a newer friend’s hand, I was reminded again of the courage it takes to speak about ourselves in the hearing of others, and to trust that our humanity will be shared rather than used against us.

Words come tumbling out of my own mouth, and I wonder if they will be met with an appreciation for both their ambiguity and honesty, or if they will be the nail in the coffin of my once-perceived sanity and standing.

And as they come tumbling out, as they did tonight, time seemed to move slowly, Matrix-like, as if I could see the words themselves passing over the cigar cutter, the lighter, the pulsing citronella candle inside its orange ceramic shell, making it finally to the hearer. In that slowness of time, the notion that vulnerability is our biggest fear and our only hope seemed to float on top those words.

And they were heard. And affirmed. And shared.

Then words come back. Heard. Affirmed. Shared.

As many times as these kinds of moments happen, I’m always amazed at the palpable fear in daring to speak. But beyond the fear, the daring and the speaking are the only ways to honestly offer the invitation for anyone else to find in themselves the courage to speak back.

Otherwise, we all remain silent and unhearing.

djordan
Pine Tree

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