You may not realize it, but every day you constantly lie without even meaning to. You lie on first contact with another human being. Whether it's meeting someone for the first time, or a boisterous meeting of two old friends. New or old, we all give them the same opening lie to the same innocent question. I ask "How are you?" You say with misguided deception:
"I'm doing good."
"I'm doing good."
I'm done saying that horribly untrue phrase to people I meet and know. I owe them more than that when they ask me how I'm doing. I owe them the truth, or at least a fraction of it. Has anyone ever been doing just good? To say you're doing good is telling the asker of the question you are doing so horribly average you can't even think of a mildly descriptive word to sum up your life right now. That your world isn't just sitting on the fence. Your world is the fence. Nothing is going well enough worth mentioning, and nothing has you down enough to seek solace in another human being.
Your mind will want you to stick to lying, it's just easier than the truth. Your mind will say "Hey, just say good, you don't want to burden them with your problems." Or it might say "Hey, just say good, you don't want to come off as an arrogant showboat if you share your recent successes." This mindset is so wacky!
If I ask you "How are you doing?" I'm giving you permission to lay on me how you are actually doing, in all it's truthful glory. Now granted, some things aren't appropriate to share with certain people. If that's the case, you can share a sliver of your reality with them, and give them the option to dig deeper.
Last week was when I decided I wasn't saying "good" anymore as a reply. I needed a replacement. So I came to the conclusion that how I've been feeling these last few weeks could be described as tumbley. Yup, tumbley. How I've been feeling is how I imagine a rock feels when it's in a rock tumbler. It gets tumbled. All of it's rough edges become polished and are able to finally shine. I'm still in that rock tumbler, still in the act of being tumbled. So I feel tumbley.
The first day after I made the rule to stop saying "good", I constantly broke it. "Good" had become an ingrained, automatic reply to that simple, simple question. Even though my mind was screaming "tumbley", my mouth still said "good, and you?" As I started to unclench my mind around the word "good", I would get these half replies where I'm sure I came off as a madman. My answer became this half-formed verbal rebellion. "Hey Doug, how are you?" "Oh I'm good, an- tumbley! Actually tumbley. I'm doing tumbley."
That got some weird looks.
I finally managed to say tumbley without any hesitation or stuttering, and people really warmed up to it. At first they would cock their heads, as if unsure if I made a mistake or not. They they would ask if I meant like flips, or if I've been in gymnastic classes. I would then explain my rock tumbler analogy. Which would be met with a smile, and a thought provoked nod. Easy as that. Now the door is open, and the stage is set for a meaningful conversation.
Think of you. Think of where you've come from. Think of where you are. Think of where you want to be.
Now tell me.
"How are you?"
RSS Feed