Speaking of the Weather

Small white flakes drift lazily down, almost invisible against the frilly pink blossoming buds of the crabapple tree. It won’t amount to much, this snow on the second Saturday of May, but it sure is a great conversation starter.

I used to think conversations about the weather were a form of avoidance; that it was better to get to the heart of the matter and talk about important things. But in our world of limited social contact, I am more appreciative of the nurturing and mysterious function of being in each other’s presence. Perhaps talking about the weather is simply a way to make it socially acceptable to be in each other’s presence for a while.

My new life of Zoom meetings has reinforced my belief in the primarily unconscious nature of human communications. We can easily assume it’s about the words, but it’s not. We think if we make the right argument, our spouse will suddenly see the truth of our opinion about how the baked potatoes really should be cooked. Even when we’re by ourselves, as many of us are these days, words appear in our mind to defend and shore up our positions and opinions.

But email has proven beyond a doubt that words themselves are a very limited vehicle for conveying the fullness of human meeting. I’ve had so many email misunderstandings that I’ve decided that if my communication contains any difficult emotional content at all, I should do it over the phone or in person. Though I can write a clear critique of what you did or said and feel complete in my expression, that expression rarely comes across as I intended and equally rarely moves the relationship toward deeper understanding.

And now Zoom. I read an article yesterday on why time on Zoom is so exhausting. Though I can’t find the article now (when I searched I got lost in the myriad articles now available about the challenges of Zooming) the gist of it was that without the usual unconscious signals that happen in person, we have to work much harder on Zoom. We’re not being nurtured by each other’s presence, we’re not getting the thousands of micro-signals we’re used to and it’s much harder to know if we’re safe and to know where we stand with each other in this flat form of social interaction.

The article also reported that simply seeing an image of ourselves is stressful for most of us. When I mentioned this to a friend, he said he’s found the Zoom control that eliminates his picture from his screen and still shows it to others. My immediate thought was that I need to know how I look and how I’m being seen on Zoom to be able to have a sense of how I’m coming across. Then I realized how different this is from my experience of talking and being with people in person. In the ‘face-to-face’ conversations I’m almost never aware of my face and overall appearance. I have the luxury, in person, of focusing on the person in front of me and on whatever is emerging in the moment, which almost never includes seeing my face.

But back to the weather, which I’m happy to write about this fine spring morning. The snow continues but seems to have no intention toward accumulation—content to be blown this way and that before touching the green earth and vanishing. And the crabapple buds and blossoms are unfazed by the mini white drama.

Personal Practice: Next time you are in physical proximity with someone, whether it’s on a six-foot walk with a friend or with someone you’re sheltering-in-place with, see if you can sense what is going on between you without words. It will, by definition, be subtle and rather intangible. No matter what you sense, can you appreciate and receive the mysterious and nurturing communication that goes on without words? Can you lean into this capacity we have as humans to give and receive without saying a word? If you’d like, you can also talk about the weather.