I came home the other night fired up with righteous indignation. A friend had let me down; she had disappointed me by not following through with a promise she’d made. I told my husband the story – impassioned and outraged. And I waited for his response. And waited. And breathed. And waited. And began to feel a little bit of space for what else I might be able to harvest from my friend’s behavior and my reaction to it. This opening offered by James’ listening heart and his willingness to follow his own pace is one of the greatest blessings of my life.
James listens to me with patience and attention and takes his time to respond. When he does respond, he gives me a perspective I wouldn’t have accessed without his help. I didn’t always appreciate this about him. For years the pace of his response time set my teeth on edge. I wondered if he was listening or if he had even heard me. I often felt ignored and wondered if what I was saying wasn’t important to him. I often wanted to shout: Say. Something. Now, into the silence. (I’m pretty sure I did shout this more than once!) These days, I often revel in the quiet between my words and his. I generally think carefully before I speak, but the pause he offers gives me time to reflect on what I’ve said, to feel its weight and sift through for anything superfluous or untrue or exaggerated.
The other night, hot with righteous rage at my friend’s behavior, it was difficult for me to slow down. My buttons had been pushed; she had touched on a ghost of pain from my past.
Still, I waited. And when James responded, he said simply this: You have very specific expectations. I nearly gasped with the audacious truth of his statement. It resonated instantly and deeply with me. Now it was my turn to pause and reflect. James’ comment fed an inner calling I’ve been feeling toward mercy. I was flooded with a feeling somewhere between relief and chagrin. How often had I let my Very Specific Expectations nurture minor emotional scratches until they festered into open wounds? How often had my Very Specific Expectations led me to rigidly contract around pain instead of opening around grace? How often had I grimly set a course for myself without allowing for detours and speed bumps? How often had my need for things to play out in a certain way disallowed the richness and diversity of possibility?
James’ inherent suggestion that I soften my expectations was surprisingly easy for me to take in. I was ready to hear this. A balm of mercy for my friend combined with giving myself space to feel the wide and difficult swath of emotions that her behavior brought up for me, moved this episode along with grace.
Acknowledging my tendency toward Very Specific Expectations is helping me be a better co-creator of the world around me and to be more open to the world’s diversity of experience. When I feel the bitterness of disappointment in myself or others I check in to see if I can soften my expectations and make space for what is. When I feel the push of perfectionism ramming me forward in my work or holding me back from creativity, I check in to see if I can soften my expectations and allow a gentler flow.
I know there is much more I could say about this – AND I am going to end this blog post right here. It’s my way of giving my Very Specific Expectations a rest.