On Non-Violent Communication

I recently had the privilege, together with my wife, of speaking at a wedding

Just before that, I had started reading a book by Marshall Rosenberg on non-violent communication—one of those epiphanic books where you realize there is great potential for self-optimizing (positively formulated) or…what a jerk I can be. I had avoided the book, which we had borrowed from friends months and months ago, because, “I don’t like violence”. I was erroneously imagining the action-movie/cartoon type of violence, conditioned as I am by Western Culture; and I’m definitely not violent like that. Turns out though ‘violence’ merely means not talking openly about one’s feelings and needs, not asking for help and lacking empathy. Ok, that’s not easy for me, at least not as easy as ranting and raving and foisting responsibility onto others for my, er, learned behaviours. So I started devouring the book, writing lots of notes and testing the contents on myself, and empathetically explaining to my family that we need this.

Being of a philosophical-introspective bent, I like trying to get inside to things hidden (in the mind, soul, heart, whatever you want to call it) and bring them to the surface, where they can be observed, discussed, realized etc. There is healing power in knowing thyself, so this type of communication seemed like a good topic to give a couple embarking on a life together, where they will probably have to communicate with each other from time to time. Thus, we come to the speech itself (it was given in German, so this is a second generation translation, which explains any and all mistakes and quality issues). Explainer: the good people had been a couple in their late teens/early twenties and after going their separate ways, came together again several years later and decided to marry. Otherwise, I’ve removed any personal references in the text.

The speech

You have already achieved something which most couples have never done—you’ve found each other twice. Most couples, don’t we know, find themselves once and split up at some point.
How is that possible? How can it be that two people, who don’t love each other anymore and no longer share any common ground, decide to come together again after so long?

[dramatic pause]

Change!

They are no longer the people they once were. Life continued in the meantime and what they did and how they changed, outwardly, everybody could see. But during that time they also went through a whole host of good and bad experiences and, as well as I know them, they weren’t so happy with themselves that they didn’t try to understand themselves better.

Change happens anyway, we don’t have much control over it; we call it fate and shrug our shoulders. But the conscious decision to grapple with oneself, warts and all—with one’s reactivity—is like showing fate the middle finger: “Thus far shall you come, but no farther…” and leads to positive change. And that, I would like to propose, made it possible that he would contact her again after all those years, and that she would reply.

So that’s what happened before the wedding. Now it gets complicated.

Because a marriage should provide stability and constancy, we can make the mistake of unconsciously believing that everything stays the same—at least a marriage should shelter us from the constant change out there. I know my partner, their strengths and weaknesses, they won’t change that quickly. Or the other way round: it dawns on me that I’ve married an idealized version of my partner, reality is completely different and I am compelled to bring about (force) change.

Those are extremes; real life probably plays out somewhere in the middle, on average. Sometimes it’s nice to feel safe at home, sometimes adventure calls. What I would like to say is that between stability and change there is tension. And where there is tension, there is potential for conflict. Conflict is, honestly, unavoidable. And who doesn’t like a good fight?! There are people who shy away from conflict but you two, as far as I know, aren’t as such. That would be wrong anyway, because behind tension and conflict are hidden needs and when these don’t come to light, you will miss the chance to grow together and change each other—positively. The real art lies in recognizing the needs and talking about them (with the kids as well) instead of fighting.

In closing, I’d like to define fighting more clearly. I don’t just mean a fight between two people, I also mean the fight inside, the inner conflict, which disrupts us on a daily basis. It’s possible to give ourselves a damn good kicking without a sparring partner, right?!

And at that exact point to ask, “why am I feeling this…?” “What do I need right now…?” Don’t talk it down or make it small, it’s important! This is your working material. Everyone can listen in to their heart without breaking anything. And then talk to each other. God doesn’t want to take away your negative feelings or areas of conflict; more than that, he has given you the whole bandwidth of emotions to feel. If he loves you and wants to bless your marriage, which I believe, then he wants your relationship to be incredibly strong, unassailable even. Being able to deal with one’s own needs in a good and authentic way is a big piece of the puzzle for a successful marriage, and to help you along the way…[at this point, I give them a copy of said life-changing book and that’s it].

Postscript

We recently visited the couple at their home (weeks later) and I was very happy to see Post-Its on a mirror with some of the key aspects written upon them.

What’s alive in you, today? 😄