August 2013

The skies were dark, but there were no flash flood warnings. We planned to go dancing when we finished our dinner, but when the heavens opened up and twenty minutes later we had received 1 1/2″ of rain and hail, we reconsidered. Fifteen minutes after that, our back yard was full of runoff, and a gully next to our home was a small pond. None of the local news outlets seemed aware of the intensity of the event just yet. One of my neighbors posted on a news FB page about the amount of rain we received, but it still took a while for anyone who didn’t experience it to recognize the implications.

Half an hour after that, the highway that leads to our town was a river. Cars were washed away and one man was killed.

People used to accuse the local news media of hyping the flash-flood threat. Not anymore. Experiencing disaster so close to home has made believers out of us. That said, this one wasn’t predicted. If the timing had been different, we might have gone dancing and gotten trapped in town.

Bob and I had spent a tidy sum of money mitigating our yard so if water came down like it did Friday, it would go where we want it to. Friday was a big test, and the water cascaded past our house and shed into the gully. I’m glad we took the threat seriously in advance. If we hadn’t built the diversion in our back yard, we’d still be here, but we would have spent our weekend shoveling mud out of our home.

It changes things when you know that something so simple as a small amount of rain can cause so much havoc. Now I review the weather reports even before I go out for a hike, because the trails behind us do flash-flood. I’ve never seen it happen, but I do see evidence of it with every rain we get. The gravel rivers keep getting higher and wider. 

Now that someone was killed, everyone takes the situation more seriously. The area made national news. However, they make no mention of why the rain is such a threat to us now. Last year’s Waldo Canyon Fire burned the vegetation that would slow rain water down. Some of the landscapes are like fired pottery – and totally resistant to water absorption.

Things do change, and people adapt. For one thing, new realities invoke new communication habits. Now, I don’t just check the FB news pages for updates. I post too. I posted about the inch and a half of rain. During the cleanup, I figured people needed to know that, although the highway was open, it took a full hour to get home instead of the normal ten minutes. If I had seen that before leaving, I’d have stayed home. It took a while for my habits to catch up with the reality.

Here’s the national news report. (Email subscribers many want to click the title to visit my site to view, or visit here.) 

 

I had suspected Bob’s funk would be over soon after his assistant arrived. When I heard his animated voice on the phone, I knew the shift had happened.

Bob and his assistant often vent about the trials and tribulations of life and of running a business. Technology. People who don’t follow directions. Mistakes. I later learned that his assistant had arrived furious over a family member’s misdiagnosis and the new diagnosis that left him little time. The need for – and benefits of – a venting session were mutual. 

They had a healthy hissy fit. Both felt better afterwards (and the work got done). People who aren’t committed to staying mad, resentful, or seeing themselves as victims are good candidates for such an event. Some people will hold on to your hurt long after you have let it go. Those people aren’t good candidates. A healthy hissy fit is a communication practice, or kata, that can help you overcome communication obstacles. 

Bob and his assistant didn’t need me or a formal practice to have a healthy hissy fit. You might not either. But some people do. If you watch my recent SlideShare, you’ll see there is an art even to something like having a healthy hissy fit. It starts with aligning with your communication vision. That gives the foundation for the practice. 

I’m committed to living on the sunny side of life. Sometimes that requires me to dip into the darker side. I have had many a wholesome, healthy hissy fit myself, and I come out more empowered and ready to face life. That’s a good measure of the success of any practice. 

Jacob brought his young daughter, Journey, to Communidance with him yesterday. He was in the band. Journey danced a little and later sat across from her father during the closing circle.

When the circle ended, Journey got up and walked across the room toward her father with the most loving look imaginable in her eyes. Jacob lit up in response, and Journey collapsed into her father’s lap for a beautiful hug. 

I felt privileged to witness it. (I also marveled over what it might be like to not fear your father as a child, but that’s another story.)

Recently, when I returned from Cincinnati, my flight was late out, so I missed my connection. I was upgraded to first class for the later flight, and I looked forward to some good rest.

But the lady who sat next to me was an extroverted flight attendant, and one of the attendants on duty was her best friend. They lit up to see each other, and spent close to half the flight in lively and dynamic conversation. I might have asked them to keep it down, but I felt privileged to witness their excitement about being together.

I remember a speaker once telling audiences to raise their eyebrows and look excited to see people. It was a how-to-win-friends-and-influence-people kind of recommendation. But there is no faking the kind of caring I witnessed in these two events.

If you do want to win friends and influence people, I say, don’t fake it. Commit to removing any and all obstacles to genuinely loving them. Cultivate tenderness, gratitude and appreciation. Some things won’t be faked. There ain’t nothing like the real thing.