Unlearning: Appreciating Multiple Ways of Being

Have you ever been engaged in an activity only to realize someone else was doing the same thing, only slightly different, or in a way that you hadn’t thought of before? Sometimes we can marvel at how genius or lovely those differences are and sometimes we aren’t even close to that place of openness. Or at least that is how it goes for me.

The College Assignment/ Invitation to be curious and learn through experience

That has me pondering… what are the conditions for us to be more curious about why someone does what they do? What invites us to consider a situation in ways we may not have previously?

Sometimes this comes as an invitation (in this case it was an assignment option) to consider multiple ways of being. What makes us feel safe enough to learn something new and possibly unlearn something that may no longer work? For me, some of those learning conditions became clear during a required course to earn my bachelor’s degree— a history of religion course. We could write a multi-page research paper or go to three different denominations of churches and write about our experience. You likely have guessed correctly that I chose the experiential option— and this is my why.

Reducing discomfort to pave the way for learning and unlearning

Going somewhere new (perhaps even somewhere that you may have never been or may not typically go), or learning something new can be intimidating and uncomfortable. Going somewhere unfamiliar with a purpose in mind allowed me to consider what was similar to things I already knew about churches and compare that with other denominations, traditions, or beliefs. Plus, it was part of the assignment— I “had’ to do it.

It was also an invitation to notice things like—

how welcome did you feel as a newcomer

what was the stance on attending services or level of participation in a service

who was leading, how predictable was the service

how did people engage at various age levels or genders

was it intuitive to follow, would I feel that way if I knew nothing about the service

what tools or books did they reference

what role did time have in the service

what level of participation was allowed, encouraged, or discouraged for a newcomer

what were the cultural norms around talking and eating in the service

and much more.

Creating the environment to be willing to learn and unlearn

At that time, I was in a small to medium sized town for that state and although there were not many options for gaining a broad range of experiences, I sought out the broadest range of experiences I could find— and, the assignment in and of itself gave me the confidence to stay curious and consider what I was experiencing.

Understanding more about the whys of all these experiences created the space to notice, appreciate, and wonder about the differences among the denominations and understand where they were coming from— if I were looking to attend one of the services, these experiences would always give me information about what might be a fit at any point in life. In addition, it gave me information about myself— what was comfortable to me? What felt awkward or uncomfortable due to being unfamiliar? What biases or misunderstanding may surface or be resolved after such experiences?

Taking this Assignment Forward

It has been over 20 years since I completed that assignment but its value has always stayed with me— what if we issue ourselves the same assignment, throughout life, about any topic where we recognize we may not understand someone else’s perspective? Would recognizing the need for life long learning and having an assignment (even if issued by ourselves and not a teacher) help us feel more comfortable in intentionally seeking to better understand one another? Does this seem like an elective course/assignment worth self-selecting each year as part of our roles as citizens (ones who are willing to be accountable for and committed to the well being of the whole)?

Considering what encourages seeking to understand

What may we need to unlearn in order to make room to understand one another better? The year 2020 offered an entire catalog of possibilities. One such possibility may be unlearning the conditions for which learning itself takes place—

Three people—Three learning styles

When you think about how you best learn— what comes to mind? Background noise and writing? Listening to a book while doodling? Walking around a room in circles while you listen or explain an answer? Doing only one of these activities at a time while sitting still?

You may relate to one or none of these, and yet all of them but the last one are the conditions for which my children best retain information. And, generally, only the last one is what adults (including me) expected them to look like to show they were paying attention.

For the child who loves to combine moving her hands to write or draw, while listening to music or the sound of TV or conversation in the background— auditory input and fine motor movement are like peanut butter and jelly— best served together. Over the course of a year, I learned to recognize what worked best for her, she even was able to tell me what worked best for her and I still inserted my ways of what I saw as optimal learning conditions again and again. I would shut off music or tell her she could color after listening to a story and she would remind me— Mom, this is what I need, remember? And she was right—you could see the ease of learning return to her body when these ways of being were honored and a resistance to learn creep up when I would forget. Why do I feel the need to treat her as if I know her needs better than she knows her own? Is it my issue with thinking she can’t combine more than one activity at the same time and be paying attention? How might what I have been taught about multi-tasking be influencing my response? (Hint— tomorrow’s post on enfolding and unfolding will offer more about this)

In contrast, my son was often found moving— walking around a room, climbing outside, wanting to run around or swing, while simultaneously reciting facts or listening to me read. Want him to sit still for 30 minutes and focus— sit still and focus do not belong in the same direction for him if you want him to function at his best. His learning was done best while pairing movement with learning by listening or talking. I didn’t believe it at first— surely he couldn’t be comprehending when he looked so distracted. And yet— I could quiz him and he would know verbatim what we talked about or what he had heard. In all fairness, sometimes his retention of specific details was better than mine because I was bored with the story and not fully paying attention myself. (Clearly, sitting still and looking just at the story didn’t even work for me— how could I expect it to work for him and his learning style?) In contrast, you could see his interest and retention go down when trying to make him sit still to learn.

Considering the possibilities
So what do I do with all that? Notice that all three of us have different conditions in which we learn best. They may vary by day and topic but it is consistent that a one size fits all approach does not work in our family. Expecting the same approach to yield the same results is as unrealistic as it is ineffective. I am learning to unlearn what I think paying attention looks like, what learning looks like. My biggest barrier? Myself— and thinking I know how they should look when they focus.

On my best days, I remember without reminders from them, encourage their best paths or follow where they are leading me. I try to think of them more as beautiful, magical beans that can only grow best by noticing what makes them flourish and what makes them wilt. They are surprise seeds, in a way, not coming with clear growing instructions, only a trusting that together we can figure out how they grow best, and make adjustments along our way.

And yet, those paths of expectations are well worn— they creep up on me regularly. I forget, I get stuck in thinking they are not listening or not following directions and revert back to trying to talk them out of doing what they know works best for them because somehow I seem to think being an adult makes me know more than them (which clearly, I do not). My unlearning it seems is a process of remembering the need to apply it again and again.

People as plants

Sometimes I wish remembering that people are like plants came with much greater ease. I would never expect all plants to grow in the same conditions (light, soil type, amount of water, who they grow best around) and yet it seems we do that with people quite often. How would my response to caring for myself or others change if I cared for them the way I would a plant— expecting variations and responding accordingly, expecting my need to notice and try something new was just part of the process?

What proportion of time would I spend noticing what were not the gifts of this plant (person) vs. noticing what their greatest qualities are? Would I keep trying to get a plant that grows best in shade to bloom in the sun? How does considering a person like a plant change the way we interact?

Questions to take with us this week as we consider how unlearning is refueling