WORK IN PROGRESS
Thursday, Mar. 12, 2020
Boundaries are solid lines on maps, sometimes dotted lines on org-charts – invisible lines, often, in relationships. Not visible to the naked eye, but glaring at us boldly once you’ve cross them, or someone, by telling stories out of school, skirting established communication/chain of command protocols or just merely being insensitive when sensitivity is called for (a.k.a. going off-script).
Guilty.
Often.
Less often in recent years, but still not cured …
When you cross someone’s boundary, hurt someone’s feelings, or miss signals – responses vary widely; angry, silent-angry, loud-angry, and a host of other negativities, but rarely joy.
When we ski out of bounds, there are warning signs. If we drive down a private road, or approach private property, there are usually signs: keep out, danger, trespassers will be shot, bridge out, no-hunting, no canvassing or soliciting, no way, and NO ENTRY.
If we go down a road with someone, cross over their invisible boundaries, cross over ones we knew or ought to have anticipated – what are we?
Crude, rude, crass – off-base, #something …
I want to change.
Or do I?
And who should change?
Me, them, everyone?
Sensitivity, political correctness, and social niceties matter – but they shouldn’t matter because we were scolded or went to charm school, but rather because we’ve changed our actions and thinking as well as our words.
Signed,
A work in progress
