Logs crackled in our outdoor fire pit.
Neighbor Joe sat in a lawn chair next to me.
He’s a pilot.
Retired Air Force.
He flies commercial planes now, from a hub over a thousand miles away from his home.
When our children were young, he and some Air Force friends used to buzz our neighborhood on the Fourth of July.
That connection made us feel special.
What he does for a living fascinates me.
I’m curious and ask a lot of questions.
Where does the confidence come from to take off and land hundreds, thousand, millions? of human lives?
I came across Erich Fromm’s Six Rules of Listening a couple of months ago.
I wrote them on a 3x5 index card that gets shuffled around my desktop.
The past couple of days I’ve picked the card up and read the rules.
Over and over.
Yesterday I had the opportunity to practice.
I called a friend who recently moved to Tennessee.
Her marriage is in a great state of upheaval.
I listened with a few uh-huhs, that’s right, and I hear yous.
I fought the urge to ask a leading question or two.
Later at yoga, when my friend Katie compared her body to that of the tin man,
I asked, “What if your self talk was more encouraging?”
She shrugged the question off, as if nothing will ever change.
Maybe I planted a bija (seed in Sanskrit)?
If we believe in possibility, can we launch?
What might the Wright brothers say?
And there I was just this morning, during an exercise class, thinking that my backbone felt like it had been welded together!
Spot on.