I am going to say something controversial. I am going to say the thing children are not supposed to say of their parents, and which my teenage self would be abhorrent to admit. My dad is cool. Like, really cool. Having gone around the sun 58 times, and around the world a few times, my dad has gained a vast wealth of knowledge and experience, much of which he has tried to impart on me, although how much of it I actually gleaned is uncertain. There are, however, some lessons that stuck out to me, five to be exact. These lessons each had a profound impact on my life in the ways they changed my interactions with people and shifted the perspective I held of the world. Five lessons my dad taught me, and I am sharing them with you.
How to Apologize
This was perhaps one of the most difficult lessons I learned. Growing up, you learn to say “I’m sorry” when you hurt someone, and for the longest time I thought that was enough. It turns out, an apology is so much more than that, and so much harder. My dad taught me that a true apology has five steps. First, tell the person, “here’s what I did wrong”. Own up to the mistake you made by vocalizing it. This is the most humbling step, no one wants to admit they did something wrong, but you have to if you want to really show you’re sorry. Second, tell the person how you think your mistake made them feel. Empathize with them, put yourself in their shoes, how must they be feeling right now because of you? An “I’m sorry” doesn’t come until the third step. Tell them how you feel about having hurt them. Most likely you are not over the moon about causing a rift in your relationship, so apologize for that. Fourth, ask if you are missing or minimizing anything, then let them speak. If they tell you you are missing something, or downplaying something, acknowledge that and repeat steps one through four with this information until step five: ask for forgiveness. Following these steps your apology goes from “I’m sorry I said xyz and you got offended” to “I want to apologize for saying xyz, that must have really hurt your feelings in [these ways]. I care about you a lot, and I am so sorry for hurting you, I feel awful about it. Am I missing anything? Would you please forgive me?”
It’s not an easy thing to do, and I’ve had to use this apology more than I care to admit, but it facilitates better communication, and at the end of it, my relationships always come out stronger.
How to Listen to People
I am a performer. I like to talk, and give presentations, and get up in front of a crowd and feed off their energy. So listening has not always come easy for me, it was something I had to learn. In fact, I think it’s something that a lot of people have to learn. There are two types of listening. First, is the type of listening you do when you’re waiting for someone to finish speaking, so you can take over. Second, is the type of listening you do when you mute your inner monologue and focus your attention on the person speaking, and really listen. The latter version involves consciously focusing on what the other person has to say, neglecting to compose a response until they are done talking. I have found the second way of listening conducive to stronger, deeper relationships with the other person. Active listening indicates you respect what the other person has to say, and you are able to learn more about them when you listen closer. People just want to be heard, and so much of a good relationship is centered around turning your attention away from yourself and to the other person. And this extends beyond personal relationships and into work as well. The same principle holds true no matter the setting, people just want to be heard. So listen.
Understanding Complexity
The world we live in is divisive, and we seem to be trending towards an “all or nothing” mentality. You’re either all right or you’re all wrong, there’s no in between. If I lived this principle, it would completely negate the previous lesson because here’s the hard truth: it’s almost never all one thing or another, there are nuances and complexities, and the only way to comprehensively understand anything is by listening to both sides. I learned this in the context of conflict management. When fighting with my siblings, my dad would always ask me “well how do you think they feel in this situation?”, it forced me to consider how my actions may have been hurtful to them. One of my favorite things to do is discuss controversial political issues with my dad, because they are always a learning experience. I will come to him with my opinion, he will listen, and then explain what the other side thinks, and what their points are. He does this even if he agrees with my opinion because without knowledge of the opposing view, I wouldn’t know the full scope of the issue. This extends beyond the realm of politics too. In every conflict there are two sides, and most of the time, both parties are right about some things and both parties are wrong about some things. This is why the five step apology includes the step about acknowledging what you did wrong and how you think it made the other person feel, because in any conflict you aren’t ever going to be 100% right or 100% wrong. It’s more complicated than that. Atticus Finch got it right when he said “you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it”. In almost every issue humanity has faced, there is complexity. There’s almost always another side, there’s almost always another point of view. To understand the complexity of a situation you have to understand both sides, otherwise you don’t understand the situation. My dad challenged me to reject the simplistic, tribalistic, false binaries our culture would have us believe. There’s more to it than that.
Grief is a Measure of Love
My grandpa died on November 1, 2018. It was the first death I’d experienced that really shook me. Here was a man who had been part of every important moment in my life (and a vast number of unimportant ones as well), and who’s stories, teachings, and traditions were woven so intricately into my memories that they became a part of me. The pain of losing him was unbearable. As our family was mourning his passing, my dad said something that shifted my perspective, “it hurts because it was good and our grief is a measure of our love”. What he meant was that we were only hurting so much because my grandpa had such an extraordinary impact on each of our lives. Grief is just love with no place left to go. Every ounce of our love was being channeled into our grief, because where else could we direct it? My grandpa’s death hurt, but there was also a great celebration in it. We got to reminisce on all the memories we made with him and the impact he had on our lives, and in the midst of my grief there was gratitude. In every moment of grief I have experienced after that, I am reminded of my dad’s words. Grief is a measure of love, and it only hurts because it was good, and somehow, knowing that, allows the pain to be coupled with appreciation, and that makes all the difference.
You Can Have Everything You Want, But Not All At Once
I was sitting in the car with my dad as he was driving me home one day, telling him about all the things I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to work for Disney, I wanted to travel the world, I wanted to be rich and not work another day in my life. I wanted to get married, I wanted kids. And he looked at me and said “you can have everything you want in life, but not all at the same time”. Like most things, he was right of course. I couldn’t work for Disney and be rich and travel constantly and have a family all at once. Those things had to come at separate times. That didn’t mean I couldn’t have all of those things in my lifetime, I absolutely can if I put in the work, they just can’t come all at once. And really, why would I want them to? This is the secret to being content where you’re at, recognizing that you can have everything you want in due time. It’s only when you insist on having everything you want all at once that you become dissatisfied. The secondary lesson to this one was on the value of hard work. I felt entitled to the things I wanted, I knew what I wanted and I wanted them now. But I don’t get to have them now, I get to have them over time, earned through my hard work and patience. I suppose there’s some merit to that cliche, “good things take time”. You can have everything you want, but not all at once.
I’ve collected these lessons and stored them in my mental library, pulling them off the shelf and re-reading them every now and then, lest I forget them. My favorite part is that there is more to come. In my dad I have a trove of wisdom; his perceptive outlook acting as my guide. My kind of cool, kind of embarrassing father, ever my greatest teacher.
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