We go into every situation with expectations.
That’s unavoidable. Our brains are meaning-making machines, and when we don’t know what’s going to happen (which, of course, we don’t – ever), we make up stories about …what’s going to happen. And that means we have expectations. I’d hazard a guess that even the most advanced Zen masters have expectations.
This is generally a good thing. It’s what helps us create plans, whether for a conversation, what to make for dinner, where to go on a trip, how to complete a project, or anything else in our lives.
The problem comes when the expectation is that something bad will happen. (Yes, there are times when we can reasonably expect a bad thing. I’m talking about other situations, which are, on the whole, more common.)
I had a client once who was, let’s just say, frequently at odds with her boss. She felt – with a good bit of justification – that he consistently shot down her ideas and didn’t want to hear her solutions to problems. Understandably, this meant she went into every situation with him with the expectation that it would go badly – that there would be some sort of conflict.
We all know what happens when we expect conflict. Shoulders tense, teeth grind, hands clench. We might hunch over, or rigidly stand tall. We probably frown a little, and any attempt at a smile is unconvincing.
In other words, we send out a lot of subliminal messages that we’re primed for defense and prepped for conflict.
There’s nothing “woo” about this; it’s not some sort of mystical energetic thing. It’s palpable, observable, and real. And we all do it.
And what happens on the receiving end of that? We can tell when someone’s coming at us in that wired-for-trouble state. How do we respond? Reasonably enough – and often unconsciously – we tense up, physically and verbally, preparing for battle.
And thus the expectation becomes the reality: disagreement and conflict.
What if we were willing to be surprised by the outcome?
What if we went into potentially-tense situations with curiosity?
If there’s a history of friction – as there was with my client – the other person is probably geared up, based on their expectation, for more friction. And it’s challenging to meet that with the openness that true curiosity requires.
But you might be pleasantly surprised, as my client was, by what can happen.
Curiosity isn’t a magic wand. It won’t change fundamental personality clashes, and it didn’t for her.
But it can create noticeably more pleasant interactions – as it did for her.