I spent my early twenties vagabonding around New York City and co-creating communal living collectives in Brooklyn. I was young, idealistic, and excited about all the possibilities life holds (I’m still excited about the possibilities life holds and I might still be considered idealistic - what can I say I’m an Aquarian).

Of course communal living is complex, and idealism is hardly a match for interpersonal human dynamics - conflicts arose, friendships were tested, and our some experiments with community living did not succeed. 

Somewhere along the way while looking for tools to support healthy community living I came across Non-Violent Communication (NVC) developed my Marshall Rosenberg.

It promised to solve all of our interpersonal problems. I devoured the book and did my best to practice it. But it fell short. Or I fell short in my implementation. So I dropped it.

For those of you unfamiliar, the essence of non-violent communication is to state:

• Observations (non-judgmental descriptions of events)

• Feelings (the emotions those events evoke)

• Needs (the need we have that’s not being met)

• Requests (what we’d hope to have happen to change things)

Sounds simple enough, but there are plenty of places where things can go wrong. And of course this only one of the many layers and frameworks for NVC.

Several years later, amidst a period of intense conflict between me and Rachael, I revisited the book and its theories. We were newly married. I was in my last year of grad school and she was in her first, so things were…tense.  We were both stressed out.

One of the things I love most about the framework is the way it avoids blame and encourages taking responsibility. We own our feelings and our needs rather than blaming someone else for how we feel. Unfortunately, once again, I failed to implement NVC in a way that worked. 

Because of the formulaic nature of NVC, sometimes when you first start using it, it can feel forced and inauthentic. This was pretty triggering for Rachael. Also, because I was communicating the “*right* way” I may have had a subtle “holier than thou” attitude. So yeah, kind of a poor move on the conflict resolution end of things. Eventually, I dropped it again and we found other ways to work through our conflict (namely, I worked through some of my stuff in therapy). 

All the same, I couldn’t help be see a kernel of wisdom in NVC. That kernel slumbered subterranean. It finally emerged recently when I started putting together the Council of Fathers curriculum. 

You may think that my many failures with NVC would discourage me. I might have avoided including it in the curriculum because of how difficult it can be to implement. But I trusted my intuition that there was a golden nugget here. And that sometimes introducing something useful can be like planting a seed. I’m so grateful I came across NVC in my twenties, even if it took over a decade to be fully useful.

I wanted to help other dads communicate more effectively with there families and once again I came back to NVC as a framework (when I teach about it I give all the relevant caveats). It’s only one of many frameworks we explore.

You see, underneath so much of what we communicate to each other are unspoken emotions and unmet needs. 

Learning to listen for the emotions and needs, both in ourselves and in others is a life-altering skill. Kids are really great examples.

Is this tantrum because they’re tired or hungry?

Or maybe they’re upset about something that happened at school today?

When we slow down and listen we can get deep insights. And we can reflect back our guesses as to what’s really going on to find out if we’re right. 

It doesn’t always work, but I’ll never forget the time I took the kids camping by myself. At bedtime, Zephyr would simply not settle down. As my temper rose and I said and did things I wish I hadn’t, it somehow came through that he missed mommy. As soon as I acknowledged that, and comforted him, everything dissipated and he went to sleep sweetly and with ease. 

But it’s not just relevant to kids. Our country is tearing itself apart because everyone’s so caught up in arguing. No one is slowing to try to understand what feelings are driving “the other” and what needs are driving those feelings.

When we understand what someone else is feeling and what needs they’re trying to fill, everything starts to make a lot more sense and empathy and humanization start to happen.

I don’t know how to do this on a national scale. So I believe we have to start with the interpersonal. 

Okay, shucks, I hope this doesn’t come off as preachy, and that it feels at least a bit useful. Maybe the idealistic twenty year old within me s popping his head up for a moment, trying to make a difference somehow…. Yes, that’s it, I’m feeling frustrated and saddened about what’s going on in our country, and I have a need to contribute to generating positive change.

A lot of us feel frustrated, and a lot of us want to make a change, but we don’t always know how. It was satisfying to reach that clarity and say it out loud.

Next time you find yourself slipping into a charged argument ask yourself,

“What’s underneath this?”

What do you think the other person might be feeling (angry? scared? worried?)

and

What need are they trying to meet (safety? belonging? agency?).

So maybe today’s dance is an opportunity to feel into the feeling(s) most alive for us, and better understand the unmet need(s) beneath those feelings. The better we understand ourselves, the more able we are to understand others.

One last little thing… if you made it this far… please let me know how this landed (can be a short sentence). I’m writing this post for you, so I want to it be something meaningful and worthwhile for you. 

Without feedback, I’m playing a guessing game. 

Do you like the shorter posts? 

Or do you want longer more in-depth ones? 

Are more curious about Chinese Medicine and what it has to say about life and living? 

Or are you more interested in another area of focus?

With an open heart, a desire to be of service, and dignifying respect for all, 

Noah and Rachael