Long Loving Looks

The other week I was at the ACPE ‘s national conference. Among the many highlights were seeing my previous training supervisor, Peter Strening, one of the best people I know, hearing and meeting Parker Palmer and Carrie Newcomer, and experiencing Greg Ellison.

Dr. Ellison’s time with us was a critical, illuminating display. Among the many things we did during his discussion of the non-profit he created with his colleagues in connection, Fearless Dialogues, was what he called the long loving look. It takes him to explain it. I haven’t found Dr. Ellison’s explanation of this part of his presentation, but I have found this important summary of the context for the brother-scholar’s book. It’s as good because it contextualizes what I experienced in this professor’s time with us at the conference. Attend to what he says, please.

What he offers is a summary of his first book that also names and underlines the particular part of his presentation. If I find more on the loving look, I’ll post it at another time. Of course, you can also bring Dr. Ellison and his crew to your church, school, or business for a quality, hard and heartfelt discussion about something that matters.

Being Present

In an opinion piece about not being alone, Johnathan Foer writes about the diminished substitutes we’ve accepted and become with the progression of technology in communication:

Most of our communication technologies began as diminished substitutes for an impossible activity. We couldn’t always see one another face to face, so the telephone made it possible to keep in touch at a distance. One is not always home, so the answering machine made a kind of interaction possible without the person being near his phone. Online communication originated as a substitute for telephonic communication, which was considered, for whatever reasons, too burdensome or inconvenient. And then texting, which facilitated yet faster, and more mobile, messaging. These inventions were not created to be improvements upon face-to-face communication, but a declension of acceptable, if diminished, substitutes for it.

But then a funny thing happened: we began to prefer the diminished substitutes. It’s easier to make a phone call than to schlep to see someone in person. Leaving a message on someone’s machine is easier than having a phone conversation — you can say what you need to say without a response; hard news is easier to leave; it’s easier to check in without becoming entangled. So we began calling when we knew no one would pick up.

Shooting off an e-mail is easier, still, because one can hide behind the absence of vocal inflection, and of course there’s no chance of accidentally catching someone. And texting is even easier, as the expectation for articulateness is further reduced, and another shell is offered to hide in. Each step “forward” has made it easier, just a little, to avoid the emotional work of being present, to convey information rather than humanity.

You can find the full piece at the NYT here.