I feel like it’s snowing in Los Angeles. It’s currently 92 degrees and climbing. Although only one of these statements is a fact, both tell you something true.
That might sound like a riddle, but bear with me.
The first sentence expresses a feeling: this is my experience. The second observes a fact: this is what the thermometer says.
I always run into problems when I confuse the two.
Whenever someone emphatically states an opinion as fact, my instinct urges me to correct them: You’re wrong! Now allow me, the self-appointed arbiter of certitude, to set the record straight.
But even when I’m right, my self-righteousness shuts down the conversation and crushes the opportunity for compassion.
It’s more useful to get curious than corrective or combative. One trick I use is to simply add two words to the beginning of someone’s statement: “I feel.”
“That politician is a moron”
becomes “I feel like that politician is a moron.”
Same goes for countless other opinions…
“A minimalist house is too small.”
“You don’t care about me.”
“This job is toxic.”
Add “I feel” to each, and notice what changes. Suddenly, the need to argue is replaced by the desire to understand.
Why do you feel that way?
Those five words subtract my need to be right, and that subtraction makes room for curiosity.
Curiosity is a bulwark against condemnation.
You see, feelings are information. They tell us something about a person’s fears, frustrations, expectations, desires, and struggles.
Of course, feelings are not wisdom. They can be misguided, disproportionate, even destructive when we obey them blindly. Yet feelings are still worth exploring; they are a window into another person’s experience.
Instead of arguing with the view,
I’d rather see what’s on the other side of that window.
—JFM
P.S. Yesterday I dropped by T.K. Coleman’s new gameshow, One Question, and talked about some things I’ve never discussed publicly.
