The Relational Power of Direct Communication

Part One — A Funeral’s Lesson in Communication

Their friend died on Christmas Eve.

It was unexpected and, despite the numerous struggles and the never-ending conflicts, those gathered to mourn and process the sudden death were shocked with heartbreak.

I often find myself officiating funeral services for members of my community, but as I sat and listened to this group of family and friends express their deepest hurts, I realized I was watching an example of something that often plagues our relationships.

The stories were simple — the time they yelled something in Russian while jumping off the diving board, the moment where they chased someone with a yo-yo, the hug they shared just a few weeks ago.

But also, like a breath of fresh air in the room, the stories were honest — the insurmountable frustrations, confusion, division, and antagonism that stemmed from this person’s life.

But now their friend was gone — and each person, no matter how divergent their experiences, expressed the same sentiment:

The world would now be less without their friend in it.

They laughed at the jokes and silly moments, they venerated the profound insights and transformative moments, and they felt the love they had often failed to fully embrace while they were together.

And in this moment of mourning, I saw with clarity an inescapable human predicament.

At funerals, we share affections that we wish we would have said while we were with them.

Why do we carry these profound expressions of love and gratitude while never manifesting them in the world?

Why do we sense a beautiful comment in our minds and keep it from moving to our lips?

Is it easier to compliment someone whose humanity can no longer affect us?

We have all of these thoughts and experiences and pronouncements of goodness that we never allow to leave the confines of our bodies except, maybe, after the recipient of those messages is no longer there to hear them.

As I sat in the room, listening to beautiful words flowing like good wine at a wedding, I found myself wondering what would have happened if these messages were shared sooner. Would the lives involved be different if they had offered that appreciation in shared time and space? Would the relationships have been healthier? Would the person have experienced just a bit more joy?

I believe the answer is yes.

Because we human beings, in our strange relational uncertainty, are often navigating the world without all the information.

And while not all messages need to be shared and there is a place for boundaries and careful treading of interactions on potentially destructive terrain, even the smallest gesture gives the opportunity to discover new narratives.

If we would be more transparent with the good messages residing in our souls, our fellow sojourners, our relational depth, and the people that interdependently create the world we find ourselves in might just walk emboldened to a more real, more edifying, and more connected way of being.

The good news? All we have to do is use direct communication.

The bad news? We suck at direct communication.

Part Two — Direct Versus Indirect Communication

The nature of communication is not something that can be summed up in a simple conjecture. There are, literally, an infinite amount of moving parts when it comes to your communicative life.

As a result, my biased perspective claims that taking communication more seriously could solve many of the rampant problems we experience relationally and culturally (Let’s Make Communication Great Again: A primer on Communication Theory & how to use communication and language more effectively )

But I believe this is most visibly true with the process of communicating directly.

Let us scratch the surface, then, of what is happening in the failure to express messages that could alter the relational dilemmas that create the stereotypical funeral setting.

First, you are constantly communicating — Every word, every thought, every movement — there are messages being sent and received at every moment of your existence.

Second, these messages are not always clear — Often, the interpretation of messages is left up to the imagination because, intentionally or unintentionally, we have hidden our intentions or we don’t clearly flesh out what we are trying to communicate.

Is this a moral issue? Certainly not. Due to the constraints of time, opportunity, and mutual understanding, our messages are occasionally sent with ambiguity in tow. It is not a moral failure occurring, but an incident of our human limitations.

Thus, our communication ends up indirect.

A more full disclosure of this process can be found below, but I want to call attention to why we should attempt to mitigate the tendency to hold back potential relational improvements.

Say It Like You (Actually) Mean It
[The Vague Nature of Communication & The Importance of Direct in an Indirect World]

Part Three — The Risk & the Reward

Mutual knowledge can be scary. What if everyone knew what was happening in your head? This is why you have a filter and, please, feel free to use it.

However, as humans attempt to save face, maintain appearances, and carefully tread the explosive possibility of interacting with other mortals, we feel the need to filter almost everything. As a result, we end up missing opportunities for relational growth and the increased intimacy that parallels how much we let someone in.

Which ends with us sitting at a funeral wishing we would have spoken those words while we had the chance.

What direct communication does is enhance the bond between the beings involved. Sometimes this can be harsh, a sort of intervention or confrontation. But even in these circumstances, when done from a posture of mutual investment, we tend to strengthen the connection between those involved.

Often, however, words of love and affirmation are left in a holding pattern because we aren’t willing to take the risk to make sensitive information directly and transparently shared. Vulnerability is an act of becoming powerless, but in a relationship of trust, there is an opportunity that the receiver of the message will not use your powerlessness to destroy you, but to connect with you.

Should you be direct with everyone? No. You must use your discretion to protect yourself. But, even in these situations, we also must admit that indirect communication is a compromise to the ideal.

However, direct communication in situations of communicating something hard or potentially confrontational is not my foremost concern.

What seems more applicable is our failure to directly communicate the good things — the healthy encouragements and compliments — that are so often left unsaid.

Part Four — “Why Are They Telling Me THis?”

A frequent experience occurs where someone will come to me and say something incredibly meaningful and positive, not about me, but about someone else. I often hear beautifully kind and edifying remarks about someone else’s gifts or personality or actions.

And, while this is a good step, I find myself thinking, “Why are they telling me this?”

One reason is that folks assume they don’t have the authority, accessibility, or audacity. This makes sharing such vulnerable sentiments difficult. To which I’d reply, in a healthy context — all the more reason to say it.

However, the more psychological reason is that we are navigating relationships with much uncertainty. If they express the complement to a 3rd party, very little risk is posed. We can pass on the information that we want to express without creating mutual knowledge with the specific person whose response, in real time and space, could be unpredictable..

In doing so, we also lose the possibility of what will probably unfold if direct communication was used.

The shared knowledge that flows from your soul to fill theirs.

The bond that emanates from two people undisguising the very real experiences they have with each other.

We are wandering through a harrowing world. When someone genuinely shares an act of support, it is like finding a comrade in the midst of a life that doesn’t always seem possible. That communicative act has the potential to fill out the map of our shared human journey.

Pronouncing that good word into the story of our lives helps us traverse the terrain of human existence together.

Because you are taking information that we weren’t sure was legitimate and you are making it real for that person to see.

What’s at stake? Your words can create a better world.

Your words can change the trajectory of someone’s identity.

But you have to take the risk of saying them.

And honestly, it won’t be the content of your message that will make the most impact. Because, when you tell them what you noticed and how it made you feel, when you name the good thing, it will create a shared bond.

The communicative event of what you say unfolds the ground under our feet that we can now walk on together.

So I’ve created a practice of how I respond whenever someone passes on beautiful words about someone else.

I reply:
“You should tell them that.”

Because you unleashing a piece of your being to show them a piece of theirs is one of the most transformative decisions you will ever make.

Take the risk.

Give the compliment.

Express the goodness of the unfolding story.

And say it now — so that you don’t have to wait to say it into a microphone to a room full of people that doesn’t include the recipient of your generous message.

When you do, we will watch the world transpire in the beautiful potential of the shared, mutual knowledge resulting from direct communication.