Taking the "oops" out of Robert

"Much talking is the cause of danger. Silence is the means of avoiding misfortune. The talkative parrot is shut up in a cage. Other birds, without speech, fly freely about."

Saskya Pandita

I was at a conference this week where one of the speakers was highlighting portions of the life of Shimon bar-Yonah who lived in Palestine in the first century AD. Tom Job focused on the fraught intimacy between Shimon bar-Yonah and his Rabbi Yeshua bar-Yossef.

Shimon is better known by the anglicized version of his name, Simon Peter, who habitually said out loud what he was thinking, especially when speaking to his Rabbi Jesus. Peter had a natural exuberance that created memorable "oops" moments.

When I first entered Christianity I too had a tendency to create memorable "oops" moments. I would loudly "burst" through the doors of the local church sanctuary only to discover that someone was in tears and my spiritual father was counseling them. Oops! Or I'd "burst" into a conversation excitedly only to discover it was fraught with historic nuanced pain. Oops! Or, I'd be wrestling with some problem and "burst" out with audible words in an effort to break loose the logjam in my mind only to discover belatedly that I'd caused an unintended offense with my verbal processing. Oops! 

"Oops!" was a constant companion throughout my twenties. Eventually I grew so tired of how "Oops" felt that I decided to develop strong restraints to forcefully contain my natural tendencies, both physically and verbally. I began to enter rooms with an intentional trepidation. "What is behind this door?" I'd enter conversations with the same intense trepidation. "What is behind these words?"
And most difficult of all was the fearful situations created by that most innocuous of questions, "Robert, what do you think?" I began to approach that question and it's siblings with intense trepidation, knowing that of all the doorways of human interaction this one was the most likely to have an enormous "Oops" lurking inside.

By the time my twenties came to an end I'd developed some deeply ingrained restraints for entering physical situations. No longer did I "burst" into any room, or situation. I'd enter quietly and evaluate the environment to determine how I should proceed. It felt very unnatural for the longest time, and I presented a non-verbal message of extreme discomfort and distrust. But as most people don't pay attention to non-verbal communication I was permitted the time to create effective restraints. I'm aware that today I rarely "burst into" any physical situation unintentionally. If you see me physically "bursting" into a situation or a physical place it is because I intentionally released some very elaborate restraints and allowed my natural "self" the freedom of unrestrained physical expression. Those times are rare and also wildly enjoyable for me and mine, probably because of their extreme infrequency.

During this time period I also attempted to develop a similar set of restraints when entering conversations. But I found that the level of restraint necessary to ensure that no "Oops!" situations arose, also produced such a stiffly artificial verbal posture that most people found my verbal stiffness disconcerting, causing as many conversational "Oops!" moments as my unrestrained entry into conversations. It became apparent that people pay a lot more attention to verbal communication. Throughout my thirties I continued to quietly develop less stringent verbal restraints for entering conversations, and while I was more circumspect in my verbal entrances, I still found myself "bursting into" conversations. The "oops" moments were still painful, but the alternative was an aloofness towards others that would have eventually corroded relationships.

Lastly, came my attempts to forcefully restrain myself when being asked that horrifically fraught question, "Robert, what do you think?" I came to realize that this was one of those rare situations where personal restraint almost always created an insurmountable barrier to deeper relationships, and I would have to choose between vulnerable genuineness or an intentional posture of self protection. I'm convinced I'll one day construct a series of restraints that will appear natural and afford me protection from the intolerable results of "oops" moments. Until that day I'll continue to "burst" into someone's life unintentionally, but the alternative is to live in an intellectual exile from most of the people I interact with.

My natural self "bursts!" and that naturalness can cause painful "oops"moments that are messy for my relationships. I'd desperately prefer to have tidier relationships, so I continue in the herculean task of creating natural looking restraints for my communication style.