There are a dozen filters at work in my home. One purifies the water I drink, another the air I breathe. On the driveway a filter lives inside the engine. The coffee machine that waits for when my children visit has a paper one. High end cameras use them to manipulate the light.
All of them create a gateway that allows safe
passage for what is life giving, or beautiful, or at least delicious, and blocks the intrusion of what is not.
Our current marriage group is looking at communication. The first meeting was about mindful listening. The next time we asked whether a statement was true. This coming week the question is a game changer.
"Is it kind?"
Those three words, a mere eight letters, have the power to mute entire threads of
dialogue. Snide comments do not slither through such a sieve without getting stuck. In trying to implement this practice, already I have written pithy paragraphs within emails, and deleted them. They did not pass the test. I have inhaled in anticipation of spicing up a conversation, and swallowed it. Other times I have noticed the barb in an article's headline, and moved on.
Because when we filter our words we all breathe
easier.
