Here we are again! Aloha! E komo mai! Welcome to They Keep Telling Me I Should Write My Memoir, my Substack that has grown to be mostly essay, or memoir-in-essay form. I would love to hear from more of you. Feedback helps me to be of service to you in my writing. So please hit the heart button if you like what you read. Leave me a respectful but biting comment if you disagree. Tell me when my words land and where they donʻt.
Mahalo for being the unique you, the unique observer you bring to todayʻs thoughts.
Last week I described how we as observers usually are also automatic judgment machines. Having the ability to pause our automatic assessments allows us to better orient in the face of change. In everyday life, it is the “pause that refreshes,” enhancing our creativity and joy. How do we get better at pausing our judging mind?
I begin most equine-guided sessions with an exercise designed to awaken and develop skill as a non-judging observer. Ariana terms this somatic practice “open listening and neutral observation.” Open listening and neutral observation asks us to be like a thermometer1. The question we are answering is “whatʻs the temperature” not “is it too hot or too cold or just right”. We practice first with the natural environment and the horses - elements of the external environment. When that seems solid, then we can apply the skill to ourselves and observe the unconscious stories that guide our interpretations which in turn guide our decisions. We also can extend the skill to observe our assessments of other people - and how those assessments affect our interactions with them - from this neutral place of awareness.
Here is an example of the exercise using horses as the focus of our observation. Two women flew in from Oʻahu for a weekend to explore experientially how horses could enhance their coaching practice. One of the women had done work with me and my horses on an earlier visit; the other was with us for the first time. We sat near the barn for introductions to each other and to the work. Once we got grounded, I explained the concept of “open listening, neutral observation” as a somatic, or embodied mind-body-spirit practice. Then we walked to where the horses live in a big pasture. My only instruction was to practice open listening, neutral observation.
Here is a snapshot of what it looked like. What do you observe happening?
The horses were grazing in the uppermost paddock when we arrived. As they almost always do when they notice my presence, both horses stopped grazing and came down to meet us at the fence. After giving people and horses a moment to greet one another, I asked “What did you observe?” The newer student gave an enthusiastic account. “The brown horse led the white horse down to us. The leader horse walked right up to me! Iʻm so happy he likes me!” Hmmm. I asked whether she thought she had practiced neutral observation. She insisted she had.
Then I asked the more experienced student what she saw. “Both horses were grazing. Then they looked up. They began walking down the hill toward us. For most of the time the brown horse was in front of the white horse as they walked. Now they are both staying near us.”
“Thatʻs what I said!” insisted the first student.
“What I heard you offer was an interpretation of your observations and your feeling about that interpretation. Thatʻs not the same as neutrally stating your observations. And another observer might have a different interpretation,” I explained.
The student looked confused. I continued. “Here is what I mean by different interpretations. Perhaps instead of the brown horse leading the white horse, the white horse had her ears pinned back and was driving the brown horse ahead of her. Perhaps they were both just walking to us but the brown horse is taller and younger and so his pace was faster.”
I continued, reiterating the neutral observations her colleague had shared. “We all agree that the horses were stationary when we arrived. We agree that they started walking towards us after they noticed us. We agree the brown horse was ahead of the white horse most of the time and reached the fence first. They are still here near us. Those are neutral observations.”
We then had a conversation about how her interpretation gave rise to an emotional response that might influence how she interacted with each of the horses in our next exercises. We talked about what information might help us discern which of the interpretations I suggested would be the most grounded assessment of what we observed. This conversation was a first step towards helping her develop the ability to observe the way in which her interpretations of a situation limit or open her possibilities for skillful action in other “arenas.”
Neutral observation is valuable as a regular practice. It helps us see nuance and navigate more skillfully through small challenges we encounter in everyday life. As open listening, it is a valuable tool for building and maintaining strong relationships.
When we are feeling stuck or navigating big changes, our regular habit of neutral observation might bring us one or more ah-ha moments and we choose to become a new observer as a result.
How skilled are you at the practice of “open listening, neutral observation”? How regularly do you use it? Has it been helpful to you in specific situations?
Next week letʻs look at the process of moving from neutral observation to fresh observations - and eventually to designing new interpretations and actions.
If you were not here last week or have not seen the post preceding this one, here is where I made the thermometer analogy.
I like this method a lot; somewhat like what I try to do with my camera, without realizing it. I should try this technique more. Thanks for sharing it.