I am an introverted feeler, who happens to think a lot. I like to hear what other people are thinking and learn from that. I can’t always keep up, but that has never stopped me from listening and wanting to learn, and interacting internally with what I learn.
I process what I hear, of course, internally as a feeler. And when I try to interact, ask questions or give my two cents to thinking-based conversations, my input often doesn’t even seem to make sense. Since I already struggle to put words to what is inside of me, when what comes out doesn’t make sense to the hearer, it’s embarrassing, demoralizing and I don’t want to try again, because I already put so much effort into what was misunderstood.
In addition, the intensity and rapid logic exchanges which happen between intellectual thinkers easily overwhelm and intimidate me. When what I say doesn’t make sense to a thinker, and the thinker challenges me, I might remain confident inside myself on my perspective, but I rarely can find the words (and certainly not confident, logical words) to explain it better or in terms that can be understood or even seem worth considering by a deep thinker. Sometimes I wonder if my feeling interaction (even if I’m agreeing, but say it in a different way) seems to cheapen or lessen the impact of the intellectual depth that is being communicated. I don’t know, and I’m struggling even now to explain this. But, I’m trying to do so, because I want to say thanks to two thinkers who I can listen to and learn from, and who manage not to intimidate me totally in the process.
Reading (whether in books or on the internet) is a good way for me to listen to thinkers and follow a variety of perspectives on an issue without being quite so intimidated. Still, I find that I can’t handle angry, cutting dialogue, which seems to attack the person being disagreed with. So, there are conversations I’m interested in, but cannot follow because the intensity is so great I can’t hear the discussion. That’s not a criticism, because obviously many other people can follow and participate in those conversations. But, it does mean that when I find a place where I can listen in to deep discussions and even disagreements without feeling intimidated and overwhelmed, it is wonderful.
That is how I feel when I read John Hobbins’ Ancient Hebrew Poetry and Peter Kirk’s Gentle Wisdom. I couldn’t say what percentage of the conversations that take place there I totally understand. But, it is enough that I keep going back to have my brain stirred and challenged. And most importantly, I feel comfortable reading their sites, because of the humility and kindness which seems to undergird their strong opinions and disagreements.
I hesitate to link from this post to their blogs, because when I express this kind of appreciation, which I feel deeply and genuinely, it seems easily perceived as sappy and overly sentimental. To say nothing of, I’m paranoid of having my motives questioned as if I’m linking to their blogs to up my own traffic. I am not competitive. I could care less about technorati rankings. But I’m deeply moved at the moment by what I appreciate about these two blogs, and I wanted to try to put it into words, even though I’m aware that the above assumptions could be made.
Something I saw in a book my son is reading (Across Five Aprils, by Irene Hunt, set in the time of the War Between the States) made me think of how I feel sometimes following these two blogs, and the appreciation I have for the powerful, but gentle ways in which deep thinking and discussion take place there.
One of the characters, Jethro, while helping his mom hoe the garden, is telling her all about what he learned in school–how it was proven that the earth is not the center of the universe. His mother is not quite sure what to make of all of that.
His mother looked thoughtful. “The Lord God created the earth and all upon it, Jeth. I don’t like to hear that His work warn’t of the best.”
“But don’t you see, Ma, He created the sun and moon and stars, too–some a little bigger, others maybe a little purtier. Seems like people on earth believed we had the best diggin’s jest because we wanted to believe that–because it made us feel important–” . . . .
Her eyes lighted a little. “Well, you done me a favor, tellin’ me things I ain’t never learned and givin’ me somethin’ to ponder over. It ‘mazes me, Jeth, it does fer a fact, the way you kin recollect all the things Shad tells you and how you kin put them from his way of talkin’ into mine.”
Like Jethro’s mother, I deeply appreciate John and Peter’s speaking their intellect in humble ways that do not block me from hearing and understanding the things that I’m able to. I appreciate their graciousness, which doesn’t feel patronizing. Since I easily feel patronized, that is a big deal to me. (And I’m really hoping my point isn’t misunderstood or either of them feel insulted by the analogy I’m making with this quote.)
Well, the next few paragraphs after the above quote don’t really fit into what I’ve been trying to say on this post, but I like the rest of the dialogue too much not to include it here:
She hoed in silence for a minute and then paid him the great compliment of going back to his story.
“Did you tell me what that old feller’s name was, the one that done all the figgerin’?”
“His name was Copernicus. I kin even spell it fer you if you’re a mind. Shad made me learn how to say it and spell it too.”
“Sounds like a furriner.”
Jethro nodded. “I allow,” he agreed.
Ellen sighed, “Seems like furriners is allus stirrin’ up somethin’. Well, the pot can’t call the kettle black–look what we’re stirrin’ up amongst ourselves.”
Thank you, Eclexia. It is good to know how you feel, even though I have trouble understanding that, which probably matches the trouble you have understanding how John and I think. Actually I have trouble understanding how John thinks as well, which is part of the reason for our disagreement. Then I’m not sure I always understand how I think, or feel. In fact another part of the problem is that I have a strong feeling that what John and some others are saying is wrong without being able to think it out and express it in terms they understand. So I am not all thinker and not feeler at all.
I really don’t want my blog Gentle Wisdom to be a place for “angry, cutting dialogue, which seems to attack the person being disagreed with”, and which may intimidate other readers. When I changed the name from Speaker of Truth I intended to signal a change in that respect. If my blog has become intimidating again, I am sorry. In fact you will find that most of my “dialogue, which seems to attack the person being disagreed with” was not on Gentle Wisdom at all but elsewhere. But I accept that I was rather cutting in the post you linked to. Again, I’m sorry.
Of course I will always more a thinker than a feeler. So there will always be some tension between your way of approaching issues and mine. I hope we can learn from one another as we read one another’s blogs, without intimidating one another.
You are welcome to link to me as much or as little as you like. I’m not interested in rankings, but something in me, perhaps my pride, likes to think that as many people as possible are reading what I write. So every link helps me, thank you.
[…] in a post on her blog, and Doug in a comment here, have rightly taken me to task for a lack of gentleness in my last […]
Actually, Peter, I guess I did it again! Communicated the OPPOSITE of what I was trying to say. I wrote all of this because I was so moved by NOT being intimidated by the dialogue and interaction. Your post didn’t feel cutting at all, and I’m always surprised when I can hear disagreement and not have it feel that way. I was trying to affirm that I feel gentle wisdom when I read your blog and John’s, even when there is a lot of disagreement. Now, I’M the one who is sorry. For miscommunicating.
I can’t figure out how I do that–express my feelings in ways so that the opposite is heard. Which is why I get shy sometimes of writing them out. But last night, I was so deeply and genuinely appreciative of the spirit I felt on that particular post, even though it was communicating a challenge to people you disagreed with. In trying to convey that appreciation, it seems I sounded like I was calling you to task. And I hate that, because it was the exact opposite of my intent.
Peter, for what it’s worth–your response (both in comment here and follow up on your blog), in light of the fact that you thought I was calling you to task for not reflecting gentleness, was very gracious. That is yet another way which I truly see you reflecting and speaking gentle wisdom. Although I think what I said was misunderstood, you certainly could have responded to what you heard me saying in harsh or negative terms. But, you instead responded graciously and the opposite of patronizing. Thank you.
Eclexia,
thanks for this post. I am as happy as you are to be in dialogue with others with whom I can sharply disagree, and still know that if the situation required, the person with whom I’m disagreeing would lay his life down for me or I for him.
I’ve always felt that way about Peter, and I hope he feels that way about me.
There IS an “internet” of people who relate to each other, or try to, according to Lev 19:18 (You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of your people; but you shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.) I want to be of that number.
Thanks for your affirming comments. I don’t think I have anything to add to what I just wrote in a comment on my own blog.
Yes, John, I do feel like that about you, although I’m not sure I would have the courage to lay down my life for anyone when it came to the crunch. Thanks for your comment.
very interesting, but I don’t agree with you
Idetrorce
Idetrorce,
On which point?