"A coward verely neuer obteyned the loue of a faire lady."
... Desiderius Erasmus, Proverbs, circa 1545,
originating
the saying "Faint
heart
never won fair lady."
This essay,
A Request
Asked
Harder,
is the prequel to the ninth trilogy
Visits With A Friend:
There are actually threeanswers
to a yes / no
question.
When I
ask
you for a
meeting
ie when I request a
meeting,
you can accept my request (yes), you can decline my request (no), or
you can not
answer
at all (po - as Edward de Bono may have said). Typically I
(the
asker
ie the requester) should evenly accommodate all three.
Asking
ie requesting is a
linguistic act.
I'm
OK
when my requests are declined - except when I'm not. There's a certain
presence
required when articulating a request if neither no nor
po are
OK.
Unless it's accepted I'll
ask
it again, and it's a request
asked
harder the second
time
(no disrespect: there must be
respect).
I'll expand my stake ie I'll up the ante (my risk) if necessary. For
example, if my request for a
meeting"some place" is declined, I'll
ask
again harder: for a
meetinganywhere on
the planet.
Clearly the second iteration is the heightened level of
intentionality
(it's riveting) and I'll wager you give
intentionality
a sway in declining or accepting requests.
I'm
patient.
I'm willing to
wait
for some requests to be accepted - a long
time,
if I have to. Then there are other requests when
awaiting
acceptance confronts me with the finiteness of life. In such cases I
have a sense of fighting the clock (so to speak).
Time
moves at various speeds, and in various currents. In one particular
current,
life is almost over!
There's
nothing
in my physical well-being which causes concern or heralds an emergency.
But it's still almost over. Life should be spent as
close
as
possible
to the people I'm
committed
to, for as long as
possible,
as a life can
possibly
be spent. Thus my requests for your
timewhile we have
time,
are irrepressible.
In this regard it's useful to differentiate between
relating
to people as their
identity,
as distinct from
relating
to them as their space. Of course, it's (ie we're) both. The
point is if deployed without
rigor,
both
"identity"
and "space" can dichotomize (it means to make things "either / or").
Instead I prefer the all-encompassing "person" ie
"human being"
which (last
time
I looked) comes with a certain degree of physicality. Being in
close
proximity ie being
close
physically, isn't needed to experience being
close
to someone. Yet it's an order of things which can
transform
a
relationship
into a
privilege.
Here's the thing:
relating
to people as their
identity
(or as their space), doesn't require a request. Being in
close
proximity however, requires a request
(consider:
the
linguistic actrequesting, is the precursor to being
present
as a
privilege).
We are
happiest
when we're in
close
proximity to the people we
love.
It's a
quiet,
grown up, satisfied
happy.
In this regard, what
works
is keeping in place all promises and insights etc which
worked
during previous
meetings.
Workability
leaves clues. Mostly, if something
worked
before, it'll
work
again. Yet
workability,
left unexamined, can (and invariably will) cease being
workable
if it's not ongoingly distinguished. And what
works
being in
close
proximity, is
confidentiality.
But it's a
razor's
edge: one violation of
confidence
is worth about eight of the proverbial cat's nine lives. And my
request has
integrity,
which means I knowingly
walk
the
razor's
edge unflinching.
Here's what I know about
confidentiality:
it ain't what you and I traditionally think it is (sorry, but it just
ain't). Traditionally,
confidence
is earned - as in: you earn my
confidence
/ I earn your
confidence.
But for it to be worth anything,
confidence
must be assigned - as in: I assign my
confidence
to you / you assign your
confidence
to me. The former is
confidentiality
as a payoff, the latter is
confidentiality
as a
gift.
And the people who assign their
confidence
to me as a
gift,
are those I'm
happiest
being in
close
proximity to, while bearing in
mind
when it comes to keeping their
confidence,
that cat has only one life left and that
razor
has a finely sharpened edge.