In the Big Five, I score in the top percentile on Openness to Experience. I’m supposed to be the open minded one. But sometimes, my judgement shows up, and I can’t take in what you’re saying anymore.
People often describe me as open-minded. They say, Erik, you never judge me. I can share anything with you and you’ll just listen. And I can recognize the truth of that, in general, I do my best to keep an open mind. I try not to get my ego in the way. Openness is freedom in practice. In openness, you get to sit in awareness. Openness can bring you profound insights. It can change your world. It feels like liberation. No wonder, we fear it. There are many times when I still get in my own way. When I become my own mental prison guard.
I’m listening to what you’re saying, but I can’t hear the full truth of what you are saying, because I’m trying to decide whether what you are saying is safe, whether I can agree with it, or whether I need to try and change your mind. This reminds me that openness isn’t a permanent, fixed state, and that the world can be divided into open-minded people and closed people. It reminds me that openness is a practice. But how do you practice openness?
How judgment becomes the doorguard of awareness
This week, I recall a conversation with a colleague. He spoke of his daughter, and he spoke of ADHD. He was considering getting her an investigation, but the waiting lines were too long. He wanted to get her medication to help her with her hyperfocus and to help her be more disciplined. At least, that’s what I think he was saying. I wasn’t really listening anymore. I started questioning it all.
Can you really medicate a child? Does he really have legitimate reasons? Are her struggles really that significant? I started asking some questions back. I wanted to know that he had good reasons for it. I didn’t attack him for what he said. I didn’t disagree with him. I just didn’t know what I thought about it. So I became quiet, caught up in analysis paralysis, and left that conversation feeling a bit off.
Later, on the way home, I thought back to the conversation, and I realize that judgment didn’t serve me well. But I didn’t know what I thought about it. I started going over my arguments for and against. On the Socratic cafe I’m hosting bi-weekly in Uppsala, I proposed to discuss psychology vs sociology, whether we are putting too much pressure on individuals to be perfect, whether we demand too much from our students in terms of performance, that we need to medicate people to keep up with modern society. But something throughout that conversation felt off. I was still in judgment. The conversation became a negatively charged one, where we discussed the problems with psychology as an institution, and what was missed.
A few days later, I realized what was bothering me wasn’t the topic of the conversation. I had forgotten my role in that conversation. I wasn’t the person who was meant to approve or disapprove of the diagnosis. I was not the one to make the decisions about whether to medicate or not to medicate. I was the friend that was there to listen and hold space. I was listening to him, sure, but I was listening to my own fears more. Instead of asking him how he was feeling throughout that process, how his daughter was dealing with it, how she saw it, I was caught up in moralizing about something I was not in a position to moralize about.
Now, you might say, Erik, morality isn’t bad. We need morals. We need to speak up about things that are wrong in the world. I agree with you about the practical utility and use of morals, and the necessity of it. I believe there is a time and place to have moral conversations. A doctor needs to discuss moral issues with their patient and family. A judge needs to discuss law and morality in the courtroom. A politician needs to speak about the morals and practices of the state.
We need to ask ourselves what the utility of morals are. A religious person may believe in the morals written down in their religious scriptures. But that moral covenant is primarily between you and the god that you believe in. Not anyone else. For most of us, human beings, morality is a crutch, a wall, that keeps us from achieving a true understanding of the situation. We all make mistakes and we all have our flaws and weaknesses. We always will. You can disagree with abortion, and still understand why somebody else went through with it, how they were feeling at the time…
It reminds me about how we all have our sensitivities. When our sensitive topics are brought up, we are more at risk of being taken over by our ego. We bring up walls. We hold on to comforting cushions. We start tuning out. Our brain tries to explain and excuse or to argue with what is happening. We lose the ability to see or accept the situation as it is.
What are the sensitive topics and discussions where you stop listening?
The Big Five and Openness to Experience
On the famous Big Five inventory, I’m supposed to score in the top percentile of Openness to Experience. I describe myself as interested in everything, passionate about learning, yet I have little interest in sports, and tune out when my colleagues discuss houses to buy, and I’m inclined to ask myself why? Why can’t I just enjoy the conversation?
When I zoom out, I realize the topic is inherently interesting, and that there would be great value for me to listen, but, I realize I have my own walls and limitations, fears about whether I’ll ever be able to afford my own house, and why I’m still renting? And I realize at that moment how your personal insecurities can make you a less warm and open minded friend to other people.
You think these insecurities are your own to be held in your own silence, but they echo loudly towards the people around you. It makes other people feel less interesting. I tell myself at that time that “I need to focus on my work” but do I really? I’m doing a good job. I’m keeping up with my tasks. I can afford to listen. I spoke to my boss about wanting time to study and take extra courses during work, and he said that’s fine, but I never really moved forward with it. I always thought about all the tasks on my to do list.
How I practice openness
Before the Socrates cafe was about to start, my mind felt heavy, more like a maze than an open, empty cup, ready to be filled up with conversation and ideas. I had spent the entire afternoon programming. I had a mild headache. Yet, somehow, I was supposed to be a good host? Inviting. Open. Accepting. When the other participants started to share, I was barely able to focus on a single word they said. At first, nothing could get through my walls, and my mind was elsewhere. But the conversations slowly started eroding the walls.
The more ideas I heard, the easier it became to focus, and over time, my mind started stretching, loosening, relaxing again. At the end of the conversation, I felt more light, my mind was open wide, and I was free again to think and perceive and experience. It reminds me that you don’t need to “open your mind” before you can receive. It reminds me that openness is a practice.
Conversation, like air, will slowly erode any mountain. You don’t have to be the perfect listener, you can’t pay attention to everything, and we all sometimes get tangled up with our own thoughts, but steady presence, and a commitment to the practice will get you back on track. When you get distracted in your own thoughts, you can gently prod yourself back into place. The commitment to the practice of openness will guide you back even in times when you lose focus.
Nina suggested we go tree climbing. Without Nina, I would have never had the courage to, or the openness to consider something like that. Friends and partners can change what we become open to.
This morning, in a conversation with Nina, I spoke of the ultimate freedom of expression, and what it looks like. There are many that believe in and have the confidence to speak their own opinions and ideas. They believe they have a right to speak and to share their thoughts with others. But many of them, still feel defensive about it. I think about a meeting I had at work.
A product manager was speaking to me, condencendingly, telling me I didn’t know what I was talking about, and that I was wrong, and that my solution was bad and wouldn’t work. At the time, I felt confused, attacked, and on the defensive. First, I tried to explain the situation. I relaxed and realized that arguing wouldn’t solve anything. Then I took a deep breath and said: You brought up good feedback. Thank you for that. Let’s investigate both options and make sure that all your points are addressed before moving forward.
Even if you believe in yourself and your own right to share things that you find interesting, you might still believe that other people somehow don’t share that belief. And you might feel the need to explain yourself. To excuse yourself. You might tense yourself up. You might feel the need to attack or defend something. You become like a prisoner who lashes out against the walls of the prison. The biggest freedom is ignoring any perceived walls and expressing yourself without worry about how it will be received or what people might say against it. To be able to share your story.
A true sign of openness is not being able to listen when listening is safe and cheap. A true sign of openness is to be able to listen when listening is scary, and uncomfortable, like in a conflict with your partner or family. Can you vow to keep an open mind, even when you worry that a situation is falling apart, or when your morals and your anger and your judgment shows up, to want to fill in the void, to give your own explanation for why they did what they did? And can you despite of these feelings, still remain open minded?
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