Someone tells me my 6-month-old boy is a strong communicator. I, of course, agree and always feel proud when others recognize his genius — yes, he does let me know when he’s hungry! Yes, he’s quite talented.
My baby, like most babies, has distinct cries or fusses for when he’s hungry, tired, or wants attention. He makes his emotional states and unmet needs known right away, which is developmentally appropriate for a 6-month-old. So, yes, he is a strong communicator. As strong as any 6-month-old. But if he were a 31-year-old, he would be considered a rather poor communicator by all accounts.
At some point in life, between his age and mine, communication expectations change. I don’t know exactly when (I’m sure there are people out there that can answer this question) — maybe sometime around 7th grade? Sooner? As soon as my debate teacher lays out how to make a compelling case? I pick up bits and pieces on how to write and speak and present, but I never really learn the rest: what’s the point of all these tools? Is it to make my needs known, or to convince someone I’m right and they’re wrong, or to rally a group?
My sharpest words flow without effort during arguments. It’s pure ease, and a cheap high hits me every time the sting of my blow lands. The hurt in my opponent’s eyes (always a loved one) brings me a dark sense of superiority when I’m young — I know precisely what to say (and how to say it) to cause real pain.
I win.
Fancying myself a strong communicator, moments like these — heated arguments with those I love most — are my Superbowl. Something feels off, but I win. I’ve showcased my talents and my better-ness.
But now, in my 30s with a little more humility (thank you, motherhood), I’m beginning to recognize these moments for what they really are: devastating breakdowns in communication; not at all a game worth watching.
I thought being a strong communicator was all about me — getting better and better at expressing my needs and desires and frustrations with articulate confidence. I’ve gotten pretty good at communicating these things, but it turns out my verbal baby and I have that in common. People know when I’m hungry, too, and it’s not so impressive at my age.
So what does it look like to be a good communicator — as an adult craving resonance?
Pema Chodron’s words inspire a new definition that seems worth exploring: “You can escalate hatred, you can escalate prejudice, and you can escalate resentment…really easily. Or, you can experiment again and again and again until you get smarter and smarter. Experiment with what communicates to the heart of another person.”1
This is a communication challenge I’d love to embrace. And I think Pema’s call to get smarter — through wise communication — speaks to many of our inner high achievers that still thirst for a win. Is it possible to learn to communicate with the intention to address all of the needs that are present, rather than just mine? Is it possible to build bridges between our hearts rather than reinforce the walls all around them?
There’s no room for authentic communication, under this refreshed framework, when the aim is to defeat or to humiliate. I often justify the sting of my words — I need to make this point, however harmful, because it’s what will make my life more [joyful, just, peaceful, you name it]. It’s a strange delusion. In reality, I’m abandoning the thing that I need most (to feel seen, heard, or loved), and ensuring whoever I’m with abandons it, too. The neglected need burrows deeper into my heart in search of refuge from the toxic hate in my blood.
I’m not confident that my desire to win will ever completely disappear, but if the pathway to winning can shift from causing pain to connecting with another’s heart, that feels like a positive step forward.
And the thought of us all aspiring to be good communicators by Pema’s standards fills me with hope.
Let’s go for it :)
“Buddhist Nun's One Non-Negotiable Happiness Strategy | Pema Chödrön | Video Podcast with Dan Harris.” YouTube, uploaded by Ten Percent Happier, 11 January 2024,
This resonates so much. It is too easy for me to pinpoint the one negative aspect of a situation rather than looking for the opportunity to truly see who is in front of me and connect with them. “Nunc coepi,” now we begin again…
Hello Miriam,
Thank you for sharing your personal journey and vulnerability.
Communication is an art worth mastering by everyone to create harmony in this precious world. We're all learning!
Honesty is the first step towards higher self-awareness. Recognizing our own patterns and determining if they are constructive or destructive can significantly enhance our self-discovery journey. Being a mother has made me more mindful and responsible, and it seems to have had the same effect on you. I am incredibly proud of you, and your love will be the greatest gift for your little boy. When you shine, everything around you is elevated!