Published by Willem Vreeswijk / New Financial Magazine, June 2024
It was a cold June evening and winter was upon us. The milky way hung low in the Kalahari night, this in the land where the sky meets the earth. And as the crisp desert air began to swirl I turned up my collar and shuffled closer to the campfire. It was so warm and inviting. I looked at the faces around me and marvelled at how the dancing shadows cast by our campfire tickled their soft glistening eyes as they stared contentedly into the embers. In the quiet black we were all silent now, alone with our thoughts. The glow of the fire, like a cozy cocoon in the darkness, seemed like all there was.
It was then that the old Bushman eventually spoke again. Touching my arm lightly to get my attention, he looked upward toward the vast empty sky. “Can you hear the moon?” he asked softly.
Such moments in the wild on a wilderness trail seem to echo in eternity for me. The old man was our guide, his language a mixture of broken English and gestures. A silent being at home in the silence. And through his infinite humility taught us more about our world and our inter-being with it, than any textbook or encyclopaedia ever could. He taught us that conversation is essentially about the listening, and not the talking. Its about discovering more about one’s self through the stories of others. He showed us how to respect the silence, and that without it, words merely become cluttered noise.
But his question about the moon puzzled and intrigued me. Could he really hear the moon? Up until that moment I had never thought of listening to the moon at all, nor had I ever wondered if the moon made any sound! So I sat motionless listening as intently as I could. I held my breath.
There was nothing.
After a little while the old man smiled and returned his comfortable gaze to the campfire. I continued to listen.
Soon afterwards, perhaps because of this trigger from the wizened guide as part of this space and setting, one of the trailists began to speak. Words of truth were shared. And along with them, raw feelings, emotions and fears stepped out of the shadows into the light and revealed themselves. His companions sat in instinctive silence, and out of respect for his honesty and vulnerability said nothing. Eventually his story was set free, and the deep feelings of support and understanding around the campfire were palpable. It became a deeply inspirational, reconciliatory and exhilarating evening.
It began with the listening.
Foundations shifted.
Perceptions changed.
I smiled at the old Bushman, and stared up at the moon again.
Some time has passed since that memorable evening. And I am pleased to share that the seeds of transformation that were sown around that campfire have sprouted into significant success and transformation for the folks on that trail. The fertile soil was the conversation.
Conversations surely are at the heart of any social interaction and discussion in the world? An opportunity to share and discover. To give and to take. A knowledge market. We are after all, a social species and the well-being of our neighbour, colleague, partner or teammate is entirely relevant for us.
And for a society that spends a lot of its time locked in debate, discussion, teams-meeting, decision-making or conflict resolution, my story is very relevant. To explain more about this and where i’m coming from, please join me on a short e-trail back to a campfire of your mind. With the old Bushman as your guide.
It will take you as long as it takes to read this article, but you may wish to linger longer when you finish reading! And listen for the moon.
A short backstory: At about 200 000 years, the traditional Bushman culture is the oldest on earth. It perhaps represents the blueprints of the human race, and if so, unites our origins in a lifestyle of harmony with nature. A lifestyle where compromise, compassion and coexistence were central to survival. Furthermore its true that Bushman communities have an extremely advanced and sophisticated conflict-avoidance and conflict-resolution culture. This is the origin of the African way of meaningful dialogue.
And it is this ancient spirit of natural based leadership, that we bring to our conversations out in the wild.
Sitting on the ground. This simple gesture places us all on the same level. It unplugs our pretences, and ensures our differences of religion, position or financial status unite us. Not divide us.
Conversations are taken on walks, in search of elephants, lions buffalo, hippo, antelope and giraffe. In this way we all have a view of the path and the tracks ahead, placing us all in the moment and available to the way.
What nature has taught me is this: I believe that within each one of us lies a human being and a professional. A human being is WHO you are, while your profession is WHAT you are. But there should be distance betwen the two. A profound dualistic integration.
For example, you are a conscious and connected human being by default, and should not be defined (or confined) by WHAT you do for a living.
WHO you are is not the same as WHAT you are.
And your professional leadership is an outer process gained and developed through learning, study or experience. You accumulate information and data from your environment and internalise it. But your human (or inner) leadership comes from an entirely different space. Its about the nourishment of your human soul and an expansion of consciousness. This for me is a spiritual process.
Allow me to share the following example of my life and work with you.
I spend a lot of time mentoring young safari guides, and this topic is an area of special interest for me. I love interacting with the human being, and its my belief that the more conscious, curious and available he or she becomes, the more an effective and impactful guide will emerge. Naturally. As a consequence. This is the by-product of a meaningful encounter with the self.
Now imagine a group of human beings in discussion about a problem or conflict issue within a corporate setting. Not bankers, financiers, lawyers, marketeers or influencers. Just people. All having a conversation from the heart. Sharing openly and honestly, and in this process allowing vulnerability through the door. For once this happens, we invite what Buddhist Zen master Thich Nhat Hahn refers to as ‘empathetic listening’ in. Listening becomes the powerpoint of the conversation. You will know instinctively when the time is right to speak and offer your own vulnerability. And so on.
Understanding and discovery may follow soon. For once we listen empathetically, free from prejudice or response, we may discover a little more about ourself through other’s stories. Our perceptions of the person or the problem can change and transform, and fertile soil forms organically. It’s my belief that leadership emerges from shared vulnerability. When ownership and responsibility of both the problem and the solution is claimed by all involved.
If so, this begs an extremely important question: can leadership and transformation be separated?
This is a conversation from the heart. And the keystone is listening in order to discover.
It could be said that during this conversation, each person holds the seed of a solution to plant in the fertile soil. In other words, with collaboration, the solution can emerge and grow from within the group. But in order for a resolution to take root, a single salient fact remains: each side of the conflict discussion may need to be open to compromise.
This is in fact a well known African proverb, and refers to the art of conversation. A difficult and challenging process for us in our ego-world where a change of perception is considered a threat to our well-being or even a failure.
Perhaps it all comes down to trust. During a conversation from the heart, I believe that the seeds of trust are touched by all participants. The shared vulnerability awakens the the value of support and back-up, for once we receive unconditional support, something remarkable occurs. We become it for someone else without any expectation of reward or return. It becomes so valuable and precious that we give it away. This is the root of trust. And at this point, compromise becomes a reality.
And perceptions change.
Transformation.
However its so important to recognise that while the seeds of trust can be touched during such a conversation, trust can only truly be earned in the space and time between conversations. This is where we can walk the talk, where the magical commodity can be strenghtened and maintained. Returning to the powerpoint of conversation on a regluar basis, to plug-in and nurture the seed, is absolutely essential.
I believe we can agree that modern society has somewhat lost the track of the fine art of conversation. Robust, ego-driven debate is the norm, where the strongest most forceful opinion prevails over others.
Take the following as a prime example: The Houses of Parliament in London. In the House of Commons, the main legislative chamber of the UK, there lies two red lines on the floor. The lines demarcate where the opposing sides of a debate are positioned and distanced from one another. From this space opinions, insults and persuasions are hurled at one another. The space between the red lines is precisely 2.5 metres, the length of two medieval swords! The gap, which still exists metaphorically today, was designed to prevent a violent duel between delegates!
I can’t help myself and wonder how many important and historic political decisions, those of great global consequence, made under such conditions. Or still are?
Is it not fair to say that conversations from the heart are urgently required for any social, environmental or economic discussion … this in our world of 2024 and beyond? A massive understatement. We are in desperate need of re-adopting old rules of engagement. To return back in order to move forward.
Those of listening to one another.
We need to upgrade our perceptions and understanding before enforcing policy, allowing the human being into conversations from the heart. After all, do we not upgrade our mobile phones, wardrobes, cars or homes? How is it that we do not upgrade the most fundamental sense of belonging we possess: our perceptions?
OK, back to the campfire. And the moon.
I return to the Kalahari often to make myself available to the silence. Yet, I’m still not sure if the moon actually does make a sound. Or if I am capable of hearing it. However with this being said, I will never stop listening.
