A SIMPLE LESSON by Ben Satterfield
In Virginia recently on a visit to my son and daughter-in-law, I learned a lesson that I should have known and been practicing for decades.
One day when my son and I were grocery shopping, I stopped him from putting a box of quick oatmeal in our cart, and over his protest that this was the kind they always bought, I opted for old-fashioned rolled oats. When he argued that the quick variety saves time, I pointed out that regular oats take only five minutes to cook. "Who is so busy that five minutes is too much to spend in fixing breakfast?" I asked, putting him on the spot and ending the discussion. I told him that I usually avoided foods that are "flavored," "quick" or "instant" because the first is altered by chemicals and the others have been processed. He acquiesced and we purchased the oats of my choice.
I forgot about our exchange in the supermarket-until a couple of days later when my daughter-in-law served oatmeal for breakfast (Both employed, they share household duties; she usually cooks breakfast and my son, who has restaurant experience, prepares the evening meal). The fare was, as my son wryly indicated, very chewy, causing my daughter-in-law to say that she fixed the oatmeal the same way she always had. I then interjected that I was responsible for the undercooked breakfast because I had insisted on buying regular oats and not the quick variety.
Immediately my son said that he should have told her about the substitution: "It's my fault," he claimed. Then she said, "I should have read the directions," and I became aware, surprisingly, of how easily and pleasantly a mistake was being handled. Just imagine how things could have turned out if each of us had become accusatory. To be sure, the three of us have goodwill toward one another, but disputes arise among people who are close, as all family members can attest, and love is no guarantee against conflict.
In our case, instead of pointing fingers, which makes people defensive, each of us voluntarily took the blame, almost vying for responsibility. Consequently, no accusations were hurled, no feelings were hurt and no harm was done. Accepting blame is completely disarming- and without arms there is no battle.
Although Newton's laws apply to physics and not psychology, perhaps we can take a cue from the third law of motion -that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction- in our dealings with others. If I insult, I am likely to be insulted back, whereas if I praise or send a positive signal, I am more likely to get a positive response. Because no maxim of behavior can be absolute, this is about as close as we can get to the law of amity, and even if it might not always work, we're better off using it than not. Of course, we can devise no perfect formula for dealing with people or create rules that apply universally, but guidelines are still helpful.
In dealing with my daughter, I remembered that if I confronted her whenever she did something that displease me, she would dig in and defend herself by making all kinds of excuses and we would be at loggerheads. But if I took her side, so to speak, and sympathized with her, she would accept responsibility for her behavior and examine it critically, invariably saying things like: "I should have done" or "I should not have done." In other words, if she didn't have to vindicate herself, she was free to look at her actions objectively without fear of reproval.
The lesson is simple: Never attack if you want to communicate. Any form of accusal, blame-casting or name-calling is likely to be perceived as hostility and will naturally result in defensive postures. We are most apt to accuse whenever we are hurt, disappointed or offended by someone's behavior. We tend to react emotionally whenever we are emotionally affected, but we should pause long enough to gain control of our feelings and ask ourselves what we really want.
Do we want to ventilate by railing at people or do we want them to understand why and how their behavior affects us? If the latter, we must not engage in finger-pointing of any kind. If we try to be accepting and understanding, we are far more likely to receive acceptance and understanding in return.
A simple lesson, but a valuable one. In practice it deters anger and promotes harmony; better to build bridges than to burn them.
