Understand that You Don’t Have to Understand

In Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, Meg Murray feels very much alone. She has braces, glasses, and flyaway hair. She can’t seem to get anything right in school, where everyone thinks she is strange and stupid.

School. School was all wrong. She’d been dropped down to the lowest section in her grade. That morning one of her teachers had said crossly, “Really, Meg, I don’t understand how a child with parents as brilliant as yours are supposed to be can be such a poor student. If you don’t manage to do a little better you’ll have to stay back next year.”

During lunch she’d rough-housed a little to try to make herself feel better, and one of the girls said scornfully, “After all, Meg, we aren’t grammar-school kids anymore. Why do you always act like such a baby?”

And on the way home from school, walking up the road with her arms full of books, one of the boys had said something about her “dumb baby brother.” At this she’d thrown the books on the side of the road and tackled him with every ounce of strength she had, and arrived home with her blouse torn and a big bruise under one eye.

Why was Meg such a poor student? Why did she choose to rough-house at lunch? Why did she tackle one of the boys who was teasing her?

I remember that on my first reading of this book many, many years ago, I didn’t understand much of it at all. But I was fascinated by it.

I don’t understand

At one point in the book, Meg says, “I don’t understand it any more than you do, but one thing I’ve learned is that you don’t have to understand things for them to be.”

In my work with children and teens over the past decade, I’ve learned that “understanding” what’s going on in someone else’s life is unlikely, and very often the booby-prize: once discovered, it is not even helpful in the conversation.

We think knowing the “story” is important, but this usually leads to our hidden agenda to fix things. Plus, knowing the “story” may not be consistent with our trauma-informed process.

Instead of struggling to understand, I find it much easier, faster, and more useful to simply be curious.

Curiosity is better than understanding

Curiosity means to clear your mind of any preconceptions, judgments, or experiences so that you can be completely open to discovery as you listen. It means listening with an open heart, being 100% present with the other person, and accepting them where they are at.

You don’t need to understand everything about someone’s issues at home, their interests, lifestyle, or challenges. Instead, your conversation might focus on making them feel heard, respected, and connected.

Ask some open-ended questions, like:

• Tell me more
• What happened?
• What were you feeling while this was taking place?
• What other options have you explored?
• Who else might you talk to?

Open-ended questions expand the conversation and show that you’re really listening to the other person and paying attention to them. When someone truly feels that they have been heard and valued, it builds trust and a strong sense of common experience that is personal and vulnerable in a healthy way. Our ability to effectively engage soars when we experience a connection at this level. Creating the opportunity for connection in a supportive space works in every environment where people interact.

As Meg Murray says, “You don’t have to understand things for them to be.”

Originally published at https://circledynamicsgroup.com on June 23, 2022.