How Are You, Really?

On making it a practice to pause

I was in an online meeting the other day and one of the hosts talked about the fact that she’s been having conversations with students, colleagues, and other people in her life centered around the question “How are you, really?” Not the pass in the hallway, “how’s it going?” that elicits a quick “fine,” “okay,” or “can’t complain,” — but an actual sit down, look you in the eyes and listen for an answer, “but really, how are you?”

In that meeting we were sent into small breakout rooms to share how we were, really with each other. And we did. One person talked about feelings related to moving into a new role at work. Another talked about trying to build engagement in workshops and it all feeling a bit mysterious as to what might do the trick. I talked about feeling like the semester was whizzing by and I wasn’t ever getting all the little administrative things done while I attend to big projects.

Sure, we all shared work-related stuff, but we were total strangers meeting in a work-related context and the question certainly pushed us out of the “My name is, I work at this university and my job is . . .” normalcy. It was nice. We related to each other about the dichotomy of emotions around a new job, the desire to be able to find that magic activity that creates engagement, and the general low hum of overwhelm that seems to be the soundtrack for most of us right now.

There’s power in that, right? In the naming and relating, and feeling less alone in our experiences.

We got good at this in 2020 into 2021, as we all collectively quarantined and tried to wrap our heads around exactly what was happening and how to keep ourselves and each other safe. We had no choice but to let people into our homes, even if just via our small laptop screens. We met each others pets, saw each others partners and kids walk by in the background, peeked into living spaces— from repurposed dining rooms to makeshift offices in garages, to kitchen counters and bottom bunk beds (literally the only quiet place one of my students could find at home with his younger siblings). In many ways is there was no choice but to acknowledge how we were,

really.

I’ve been thinking recently about how to hold on to that. Not the fear. Not the stress of the unknown. Not the physical isolation. But the sense of some sort of collective caring. Of collective checking in. Of collective pause to truly try to get to the bottom of how the humans we interact with regularly are,

really.

I’ll stop here to acknowledge two things: 1) I am aware that Covid is not over, but I hope we are getting to a place of better treatment and prevention 2) I know that for all the coming together over a collective experience, there was also a shadow side of all this that aided and abetted even more division in the world.

And that second point is really the crux of it for me. All the division, seems to make it imperative for those of us that did feel some sense of connection and understanding of our fellow humans to continue to hold space for that. To stay deeply empathic. As we all start to feel the pressure of a world fully re-opened and fully back to the pre-pandemic pace (with the added accelerant of back-to-back zoom meetings)— how do keep that collective sense of positive regard and genuine care?

Which is to say, how do we continue to facilitate the pause?

I certainly don’t have a magic answer here. But I’m pretty sure that it involves practice. In the same sense that we talk about practice as it relates to meditation. The goal in meditation is not to be “good” at completely clearing our minds from all thought. That’s basically an impossible goal to achieve. Instead the idea is to get better and better at noticing our thoughts and re-centering ourselves on the breath. To get good at returning (h/t to Ashley Williams for that turn-of-phrase, which I love).

The same applies to slowing down to take the time to ask “how are you, really?” And in taking the time to both receive and give an honest answer to the question once it’s asked. We’re not going to get it right all the time. “Fine,” and “not too bad” and “hanging in there,” are all going to fly off each of our tongues like the habits they are. Similarly we’re going ask “how’s it going?” when we aren’t in a place to hear an answer other than one of those habitual ones. Sometimes we are going to neglect the “really” but the real work comes in noticing that, pausing, and asking it next time.

The pause is a practice.

How are you,

really?

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Beautiful Thing of the Week

Just one little something I found inspiring this week (read last week’s longer list of tiny, lovely things here, including a great opportunity for pausing and connecting at Winter Camp):

🙏 I really loved this guided meditation this week: Equanimity Lake. I had done a mountain meditation before, but I think this was the first time I had done a lake one. Both come from Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) practice*.

*I’m pretty sure— please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong.

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So, truly— how are you this week, really?