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Fresh Start

by Trime Persinger

Fresh Start

I recently led a series of classes on “Working with Conflict” at a conference in Nova Scotia, Canada. The 350 conference participants were highly-educated, thoughtful people with a sincere interest in opening their minds and hearts. Many of these people were personal friends of mine. I had been anticipating this conference with a mixture of excitement and fear—I really wanted to make a good impression.

I had a limited amount of time to teach and had been requested to present a practical, skills-oriented approach to the material. “Give them things they can use,” I had been told. So in the first session I briefly talked about the importance of crossing to the other person’s side of the bridge in a conflict, in order to understand her point of view. I then presented some active-listening skills and led several listening exercises.

At the end of this class there was a brief time for questions. The first person who spoke said that she was familiar with these skills (on the receiving end) when they had been used by workplace managers to manipulate her. The experience had made her highly suspicious of the skills, and she had no desire to use them.

I responded to this person by talking about the importance of one’s intention. It was important to use the skills with a sincere interest in the other person’s perspective, not just as a way to placate and manipulate him. In fact, the skills would help her to cultivate this interest if she approached them with the intention to really learn.

Then a second person told a similar story, then a third. I continued to stress the importance of one’s intention. By this time there was a buzz in the room. People were aroused. It was time to end the session, but conversations continued for the rest of the day.

My own experience after the class was that some people avoided me while others approached me with support and encouragement. The people who supported me were concerned that the others weren’t “getting it”, and encouraged me to persevere. As for the others, well, I could only guess at what they were saying because they weren’t saying it to me. In a short period of time, I had become the focal point of—that’s right—a conflict.

As I contemplated the best way to proceed with the classes, I came up with several clever things to say that would surely convince people of the usefulness of the skills. But then I had a conversation with my colleague, someone who had presented other material before me. Very gently, this person told me that at the end of the class I had become defensive. I hadn’t really listened to what people were trying to tell me about their experience with the skills. I hadn’t crossed to their side of the bridge, and they were rebelling.

What a shock! Here I was, the “expert” on working with conflict, and I hadn’t practiced the very skills that I was teaching. I hadn’t listened to understand what it was like to feel manipulated by the skills. It was one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

When I began my part of the next session, I acknowledged my defensive reaction at the end of the previous class. I invited people to come forward with their concerns about the skills, that I was now truly ready to hear them. I stated the obvious—that we were in the midst of a conflict about conflict. The good news was that one can always have a fresh start. Until we die, it’s never too late.

From that point on, people relaxed. I relaxed, too. We had genuine, heartfelt discussion. In the following (final) class I presented more skills, and everybody did role plays in small groups. As far as I could tell, most people had learned some things and felt grateful.

For myself, I had been through the fire. In a sense, it was my worst nightmare come true. Sitting in front of these people, my friends, I had felt completely vulnerable, even ashamed. And I had survived. I had learned, deeply, that you really can begin again, whenever you choose to. I learned that vulnerability can be both excruciating and powerful. Our strength lies not in our cleverness or our wisdom, but in our willingness to open our hearts in the midst of our pain. There is no strength greater than this.

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