How easy is it for you to believe and then admit when
you’re wrong about something, or at least consider that there’s a possibility you’re not right? I am analytical by nature. I explore all the ins and outs of a thing so by the time I have an opinion, I’m pretty sure of what I think is true. And having done to great lengths to understand something, I tend to remember the details pretty well. But I’m wrong a lot of the time anyway, either because I didn’t consider all the angles or I’m remembering something inaccurately.
For example, my phone case was ripping at the corner and I thought to myself, well that one didn’t last very long. I’ve never had one rip. Usually they start getting dirty and worn, and that’s why I finally get a new one.
I looked up the one I had bought before and saw that it was over two years old. I couldn’t believe it. If someone had asked me how old my case was, I would’ve said about a year and been wrong, even though I was pretty sure I was right.
Last week, my husband told me something earlier in the day. Later that evening, as I was getting ready for bed, the information came back to me, but for a moment, I forgot that it was my husband who told me. I started to tell him what I had heard “from our son,” only to quickly remember, wait, my husband is the one who told me this in the first place, not our son, as
my memory wanted me to believe. Even though I remembered the truth before I opened my mouth to speak, for a second, I would’ve incorrectly said that my son told us that.
Both of these incidents are small things
without a lot at stake about whether or not I was right or wrong, but they remind me to hold an open mind about bigger things I’m so sure of because I can be wrong. A gateway to greater relationships is being willing to see other people's viewpoints and remain open to a changed mind and a better understanding for why someone else holds a different belief about something.
A phrase that is so wonderful, so simple and helpful, that opens up space in relationships, and that I aspire to use more often is, You might be right. Another great one is, I don’t know. And another, This is what I think, but I could be wrong. And also, Please tell me more. Explain that so I know better where
you’re coming from.
Having to be sure about things was a survival skill I developed as part of growing up in an environment where many things were scary and uncertain. I had no one to talk to for comfort or to seek
answers so I had to observe all the facts available to me and come up with my own conclusions to keep me safe.
The trouble with that is, I could only use the facts available to me, as filtered through a nine year-old’s
lens. I excluded facts I was not yet aware of, and perspectives other than mine. Others had long formed their own beliefs that were different than mine, because of the sum total of our experiences up to that point.
This
was true as a child, and it remains true today, or at least the premise of how our beliefs and opinions were formed remains true. But now I know that I may not be right, or have all the facts and possibilities other people have, because I haven’t had all the same experiences as everyone else.
I love remembering that I don’t know everything.
I love the reminder that whenever we’re the smartest person in the room, we
need to find another room. It’s easy to hide out and be the most-informed, or plainly put "the know it all," but it’s more enlightening to be surrounded by people who are as knowledgeable and informed in their own opinions as I am, especially when they don’t necessarily agree with mine.
That’s how our minds stretch. That’s how we're shown new ways to look at things, and also how our minds re-confirms what we do believe. Beliefs that are tried, tested, stretched and strengthened are then even more fortified. But we have to be willing to concede we could be wrong and they could be right. Or, we could both we right from our own perspectives.
Where might you be wrong? Where might you possibly not be right? Anytime we have a difference of opinion, it’s so great to ask ourselves these questions:
How could they be right? Why do they think that? What made them that way? When have I believed something similar? When have I been close minded? When I have wanted to be heard and understood, even if that meant not agreed with?
You don’t know my entire past, and I don’t know yours. I couldn’t possibly know all the things that have gone into making up your belief systems. But by being curious, when we disagree, I can appreciate you more. I can learn and grow. I can take a risk to be known and let you see more of me.
In the book, The Art of Happiness, the Dalai Lama shared how much he loves to speak to people of other religions. He has zero intention of persuading them to his faith and way of thinking, but he loves to know and understand why other
people beliee as they do.
With greater understanding and insight, he could love them more and then meet his primary goal, to extend more compassion. I find this approach so wise and I have never forgotten to aspire
to this way of being with people who do not share my beliefs, not just about religion, but about anything. Because, don’t tell my husband, but I’m not always right! (I do practice saying, You’re right, Honey, because that’ a great way to build my humility muscle.)
Finding the gift in relationships is often through difficulty, confrontation, and differences of opinion. Embrace them. Welcome them. Get curious to be connected deeper. Bring humility to the people you care about and watch your relationships expand as minds grow.
