We all find ourselves in situations where someone uses more words than we would like to hear. Or, put in less neutral language, when someone drones on and on, seemingly oblivious of their effect on others—when your energy drains away to below zero and all you think is, “How can I get out of this?” It could happen in many situations: a celebratory event, a business meeting, a chance meeting in a shop, a scheduled catch-up among friends, a group training situation, or even a therapy session. Perhaps you have some strategies of avoidance, like the poet Naomi Shihab Nye in this excerpt from “The Art of Disappearing:”
When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone is telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.If they say We should get together
say why?
Once you are caught in an unsatisfying communication, however, what are your options? You could choose to simply be patient, to practice forbearance. In many cultures and religions, including Buddhism, this is seen as virtuous. On the other hand, you might consider interrupting as a possible path of action. Interrupting is defined as “stopping a continuous process,” and the literal meaning is “to break apart”—quite forceful associations. No wonder many of us are wary to take that kind of action, afraid of drawing the spotlight of attention to ourselves and potentially being judged as impolite or rude. So what may be good reasons to give interrupting a go anyway?
By just bearing the pain of disconnection and boredom we may not be doing ourselves, the talker, or anyone else in the room a favor. When we talk, we want to be heard. It is likely that the person who tends to overtalk, on some level senses that their audience has stopped listening. It may be a familiar, painful experience for them—of not really being heard, of not mattering. Tragically, their strategy of continuous talking does nothing to shift the situation toward more satisfying communication, for them or anyone else. Interrupting this dispiriting mode of interaction carries the potential to turn things around toward increased mutual satisfaction. Mutuality in communication, the experience of both listening and being heard, is a fundamental human need. Marshall Rosenberg, the founder of NVC (Nonviolent or Compassionate Communication) is a great advocate of steering communication toward a place where everyone’s needs are met. In a situation where one person does most of the talking, he suggests trying to say something like: “Excuse me! I am going to interrupt you for a moment. I want to make sure I follow you—can I check whether I have understood you well so far?”
And you would follow this intervention with a brief summary of what you have heard them say, emphasizing how they may be feeling and the needs that they are trying to meet. For example, if someone has been going on and on about a disastrous holiday, you might offer “I am guessing you are so disappointed—you would have really loved to have an easy, relaxing break, is that right?” This way of stepping in disrupts the trance of self-absorbed storytelling and brings everyone back into the present moment, where true connection can blossom. It stays clear of blaming and avoids polarization. Our feelings are brought into sensory awareness and the spotlight is on what really matters: our underlying needs and values. This liberates energy, which then starts to flow more enjoyably between people. But interrupting only works if it comes from a place of genuine openness, which can be challenging when your buttons are already pressed and you really just want them to stop talking.
Let’s consider that interrupting is an art that requires mindfulness, skill, and practice. Some awareness of our childhood patterns and the social-cultural context can be hugely helpful. Maybe there were lots of children in your family and it was a constant struggle to be heard. Or you were brought up to believe that “children should be seen, not heard.” Or there was someone dominant in your life who was acting out cultural power-over dynamics. If we can tap into an empathetic, compassionate understanding of such patterns, both in ourselves and others, it is more likely that we can find ways to sincerely connect even while disrupting the flow of a monologue.
Here’s another example of shifting a one-to-one meeting to a different level of mutual engagement. In a recent Zoom call with a friend, she told me about a conference on Buddhism and art to which she had been invited to make a contribution. From a previous email, I knew that she didn’t feel happy about something related to her talk and I was primed to offer her some empathy. However, 25 minutes into our conversation, she was still giving a step-by-step summary of the conference. I plucked up some courage and interrupted her: “Can I just come in here? I am interested in hearing about the conference and I also wonder whether you want to use some of our time together to explore what happened around your own contribution to the event?”
At first, she seemed a little thrown off track, then gathered her thoughts around her talk, and told me how the chair of the event tried to cut her short after half of the allocated time. She was the only female contributor among many men. The flavor of our exchange changed quite dramatically and there was a lively back and forth—we were both enjoying that dance of deep listening and exploring. And then there was time for me to share a concern of my own as well.
And here is an example of interrupting someone in a group context. When I lead a workshop, there are many occasions when everyone is invited to make a short contribution—it could be an initial check-in about how they are feeling or a response to some previous activity. Experience has shown me that it is useful to give precise time boundaries: up to one minute each, for example. But inevitably there will be someone who gets carried away and takes up more space. This leads to tension in the room and I consider it my responsibility as facilitator to intervene. This is just one of many ways it can be done, of course:
May I interrupt you at this point? I am feeling a little torn. Part of me would love to engage more fully with what you are saying and give you the opportunity to be fully heard. And another part is aware of the overall agenda for the day and wanting to make sure that everyone has the opportunity to say something within the allocated time frame. Would it be okay to move on now to the next person?
Another pathway may be to let go of the schedule and trust that engaging with that person empathetically could benefit everyone in that situation.
The art of interrupting benefits from practicing on our own. Are there not many times when we hear more words inside ourselves than we are happy to hear? When a story flavored by righteous indignation, for example, peppered with judgements or self-blame, spools on and on? How about taking courage and stepping in with the intention to truly connect with that aggrieved part of us—not to make it shut up, but to understand? To say, “Excuse me, I am going to interrupt you for a moment. Let me check whether I got what you have been saying and what’s important to you.”
This way of communicating compassionately with parts of ourselves beautifully feeds into our relationships with others, allowing us to be in a place of choice, whether to talk or listen, and to interrupt when it serves the situation. The Art of Interrupting is part of a wider set of skills and insights. Buddhist practitioners point to the transitory and interconnected nature of all things, a perspective that can loosen the hold of repetitive, self-referential thinking and talking. Opening into awareness is always the first step, creating a liberating gap in the flow of automatic thinking and behavior. We interrupt, ourselves and others, in order to connect more deeply with the flow of life in the moment.
Ratnadevi will be holding a couple of online or hybrid courses in the autumn: “Take a Moment,” to find inner calm and companionship with other mindfulness practitioners. This is an eight-week online course starting on Tuesday, 3 September, at 8–9 p.m. local time. And a free four-week Mindful Communication course “Connecting from the Wise and Compassionate Heart.” More information about her courses are available at her website, Living Mindfulness.
References
Nye, Naomi Shihab. 1995. Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. Portland, OR: Far Corner Books
See more
“Connecting from the Wise & Compassionate Heart” and “Take a Moment” (Living Mindfulness)
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