What I Don't Know For Sure

Last weekend, I was texting with my son in Italy using a Korean-based app, Kakao.

We moved through our pixelated conversation to the topic of communication and relationships. He reaffirmed his belief in the importance of communication. Then, something popped out of my keyboard that truly surprised me. It's so obvious now.

"We can't possibly be 100% effective when we are 100% unique."

Looking back, it seems as if maybe all the speakers, coaches, teachers and preachers I've heard talk about communication assume people can at some point completely understand each other. I don't think that's possible.

How can we say we understand another person completely when so often we don't understand ourselves?

My husband and I both discovered our assumptions were off near our third anniversary. I had my assumptions. He had his. We made decisions based on those misinterpreted signals. More than 25 years later, we keep asking if we got the message the other meant to send. Still, asking really helps.

The risks are high if we don't slow down. Estrangement from children, lawsuits from customers, bad relationships with neighbors, missed connection, missed priceless moments, missed moments of understanding another soul and being understood.

Did I really understand? How can I communicate what is needed? Will the other party want to know? If he or she doesn't, is the effort still valuable?

So far in my experience, asking these kinds of questions has led me to relief, enlightenment and even joy. I've learned over time that I am usually believing things the other thinks worse of me than reality reveals.

Ask. And if you find yourself surprised, I would love to hear about it.

The Code and The Law

Since February 3, the bulk of my time goes to learning how to code. "Code" describes in vernacular all the different languages "humans" use to talk to with computers. "Coders" or software developers write code for computers to read. Computers read the code if all the language rules are followed.

If the coder breaks the language's rules or doesn't know the right word, then the computer communicates that the sin must be fixed before the computer can go any further with reading or doing. Sometimes there is only one "error", sometimes there are a hundred before the coder gets the code to flow in a way the computer will accept.

Unforgiving and awful, the computer doesn't tell me how to fix the problem, only that the problem exists and that it might be on line 46, line 52, line 80, line ad infinitum. 

My class and I made it through two interviews and a math test to qualify for this torture. Each of us got this far in life generally learning how to learn on our own. Familiar with helping others more than needing help, the program messes with our emotions. Some challenges present so puzzling that some of us need help with every single step. Painful describes the process. Patience and perspective prove better tools than my Mac, empowering me to make the choice to believe I can learn this. The computer doesn't help. The teachers and my fellow students do. 

It's a lot like The Law. 

The Law doesn't tell me I broke it. The Law's agents send me an error message and price to pay.

If my brake light is out and forgot to put the new insurance card in my glove box for an agent's inspection, I get a ticket and have to pay the lawbreaker's price.

Breaking rules in computer code requires the price of time, frustration while finding an answer and maybe some money if it melted the hard drive.

It might sound like I don't appreciate the code. Nah. I do like to code. In fact, I love what I am learning! I do note the similarities, however, between the computer's response to me and perhaps an unforgiving judge's response. 

I am grateful my spiritual and human loved ones don't treat me like this computer does. 

Thanks. 

Yes, thank you very much.