Some cases you remember vividly; the impressions they leave are lasting.
The plaintiff, seated with my co-mediator and me, had just heard us convey the defendant’s final proposal. The plaintiff said, “I need a moment.” I asked if they (and I hope you will excuse me for using the pronoun “they” in the ungrammatical singular) wished to take a break to think about the offer. They declined and said, “No, let me sit here with you. But give me a moment to think.”
The plaintiff sat not for a moment but over the course of many moments – in silence for 20 full minutes. My co-mediator and I sat, looking at each other from time to time, witness to this inner struggle. So deep was the plaintiff’s concentration, so palpably serious, that we both felt humbled in its presence. Their focused concentration, and the accompanying silence, became a fourth person in that room. My watch ticked off the minutes. Into that silence of thinking and weighing, other, minute noises intruded. Around us, the building’s heating and ventilation system produced bursts of noise; my co-mediator’s stomach growled insistently; outside once we heard a siren wail. I could hear my breath, in and out, as we sat our patient vigil.
I knew that they’d reached a decision when suddenly I heard them exhale. “Yes,” they said, and the silence ended, as they thanked us for giving them the space to think.
Bearing witness to silent concentration was a profound experience. Later we discussed it, my co-mediator and I. The impulse to break that silence was strong at first. But as the silence lengthened, waiting became easier. Apart from sounds, too, there were other things to attend to. Their face, for example, spoke volumes about the progress of the struggle within, shadowed first by doubt and then growing lighter with certainty. Even in total silence, there is something to hear.
What reminded me of that long-ago case? I happened to hear an interview on NPR with acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton, a man on a quest to record the sounds of natural environments and to protect land from the intrusion of human noise. Watch the video on the page I’ve linked to; whether the cry of swiftly flying birds or the steady melt of snow as winter recedes, it’s astonishing how much sound our natural landscapes contain when the din of human activity falls silent. Listen closely to what remains.
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Sometimes waiting through that silence is what a person needs to feel heard.
Great post. Thanks.
Tom, your opinion matters to me and your kind words mean a lot. Thank you so much.
Silence is so powerful. Even as an experienced mediator, I have to fight off my desire and my own need to break the silence. It’s amazing what can happen when, in brainstorming, participants sit in silence for extended periods of time and then suddenly, after exhausting what they thought was every possible idea, someone blurts out a breakthrough solution that not only could resolve the conflict, but also change the very nature of their interactions.
Diane,
.
You are to be commended for not breaking your vow of silence. I don’t know if I could have done it.
I too have had situations of long silence (but never 20 minutes). It is interesting as a discussion, because I agree with you about silence, but I also caution on the use of silence. Like any tool, there is no rule and you must feel your way through it. I have had occasions where after a long period of silence, I have also asked, “what are you thinking?” in an attempt to allow the person to open up their feelings on the topic. Many times, after that brief discussion, we may break back into silence.
Another comment with silence, is that it is a very powerful negotiating tool. Offer. Silence. Thoughts regarding why they are silent. Are they rejecting it? I have seen silence obtain another concession many times.
The reality is that silence is deafening to most people and they can’t stand it.
Great observation Diane, silence is golden, and the patience to let it unfold are virtues, but also skills not easily taught, but absolutely necessary in the process of letting others decide for themselves.
Steve and Rick, thanks so much for your insightful comments. Silence is deafening – and also fragile. Once broken, a moment or opportunity may be lost amidst the pieces.
Stephen, I agree – it is not an easy skill to learn. I think most of us have experienced times in our lives when we wish we could have held our tongues and allowed silence to do the talking for us, or taken the moment to think and be silent before responding. I’m still learning myself! I’m glad that my husband is among my readers.
Diane –
I am thrilled to see this post and to see your dedication to collaboration, mediation and new ways of moving through some of life’s most difficult negotiations.
Last year I went through a collaborative divorce with my husband of 33 years. As a facilitator of group process, I use silence a lot. The moments when I called for silence during our divorce negotiations were the most profound. My husband was able to shift from a very fearful place to a deeper heart space. Our lawyers and advisers were impressed with the shift in the room. From there we were able to negotiate an agreement that was a win-win based on our shared values. This has served us well.
I would love to talk to you about your innovative work. Let’s get together soon!
Lisa, it’s such a pleasure to connect with you, both in the real world and here. Thanks for sharing your own experience with collaborative processes. I would welcome the opportunity to get to know you better and to learn more about the work that you’re doing. Thanks so much for taking the time to comment!