What if We Asked These Questions?

Does anyone ask you the questions you desperately want to answer?

People ask me all kinds of things, but rarely am I asked about what really matters to me.  These are the things I want to talk about, and truly be listened to.  In the presence of my friends and family I talk about them, unasked.  But I feel that they don’t want to hear about it.

Do you feel this way too?

I want to be asked.

I want to be asked “What have you been doing at work lately?”

Silly, right?  People ask “how is work?” all the time.  But that’s the sort of question you’re required to answer ‘fine’ to, or ‘busy’.  Maybe they’d accept a long answer, but I get the distinct feeling that if I went on a five minute rant about the product I was coating that week, and what went wrong, and about how I nailed that one coat to the exact percentage, their eyes would glaze over.

I want to be asked “How were your runs this week?”

I’d love you forever if you’d listen to me talk about running Abe’s Hill for the first time, and my 5k on the weekend–and then ask “then what happened?” like you mean it.

I want to be asked “What are you reading these days?”

Plato–The Republic, and Lord of the Rings.  Ask me about Plato, and why I’d even pick it up.  Ask me about what I’m learning from those books.  Gosh, look at the size of the three-in-one volume of Lord of the Rings.  Doesn’t it just beg to start a conversation?

Ask me about my writing projects and don’t look too shocked when my eyes light up and I expound on clones, and the archetypal city, and the righteous poor, and the adventures of some ‘made up’ character.

The problem is…

The problem is that I don’t ask the right questions either.  If I were observant, and not all wrapped up in myself like I tend to be, I might know the right questions to ask YOU.  The questions that make your face light up like a Christmas tree.  The ones you can deliver a spontaneous fifteen minute lecture on.

I stumbled across one of these questions by accident, this summer.  I’d had difficulty connecting with a coworker, a gentleman from Bangladesh, until one day I asked him “Are you following the FIFA World Cup?”

Yes!  Yes he was.  He was following Argentina.  He’d followed Messi since the soccer star was a much younger man.  He (my coworker) had actually played soccer in college.  And off we went–because college led to discussions about our families, and once you start talking about your families you have lots to go on.

I began checking the World Cup stats every morning so I’d have something to say to him when we passed in the hall.

Doubtless, asking a good question won’t always have the same success.  But I’ll warrant that if I’d regularly pose purposeful questions, I’d often stumble on good answers, perhaps even on a new friend.  But this won’t happen if I’m not looking, using Sherlock Holmes powers of observation to discover what makes people tick.

I’m not good at that, I admit.  But I realize now that I can’t make people take a genuine interest in me.  All I can do is provide that loving courtesy to others, because I truly believe that to listen is to grant deep respect and honour to another.  We need to be listened to.  It is psychological oxygen, to borrow from Dale Carnegie.

What to ask?

So tell me.  What do you want to be asked?  What is that thing, buried deep in your chest, that you NEED to talk about?

I WANT to ask.  Forgive me if I forget to look.

 

 

 

Time Isn’t Cheap

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread,” said Bilbo Baggins. I don’t have the One Ring, but I think I know how he feels.

I feel I am, white-knuckled, on the very edge of life’s merry-go-round, about to be flung off. My plates are wobbling, my ducks are rebelling in their row.

It’s not that I’m complaining… exactly. I DID sign myself up for this–two jobs, plus a writing career, etc. I guess I just wish I could accept it, move past that frantic feeling and get down to business. I don’t have time to panic.

Funny thing: about a year ago my boss lectured me on becoming more efficient. If we had an ‘efficiency contest’ now, I’m damn sure I’d win. I know there are people who work far more hours than I and still get more done, but still, I pride myself in my time management. I can fit any task into the bite size pieces of time I have between work and work and work. I’m writing this on my phone on my lunch break. I’ll finish it on last break, and post it when I get home.

I’ve eliminated so much time waste from my life, but I still don’t have time.
I don’t want to be efficient. I want my time back.

Time is more valuable than money. You can replace a dollar, but you can’t replace time once it’s gone. Its a shame that we sell our time so cheaply. I sell my Saturdays for fifty bucks each. Fifty bucks! That’s almost volunteering. Yes, I do it to survive, but if I valued my time at it’s true price, would I leave it at that?

I’ve got no grand moral for this story. I’m just angry, just frustrated with how long it takes to get ahead. I will get ahead. I will! I just hope I can hold it together that long.

Post Script: I found this in my drafts today. I can’t remember why I didn’t post it–maybe because I was too pissed in the moment (not a good time just to throw your thoughts online). I think that this represents the tension between where we are and where we could be, and this is healthy–as long as it remains in proper perspective and we don’t give up. Here’s to following our dreams.
–Geralyn