Try Another Way - Accepting the Complaint-Free Challenge
I’ll always remember my first day of work after college. There I was, a newly Registered Music Therapist, sitting in a room at Sonoma State Hospital with all the other new employees, watching a training video. The video showed scene after scene of a staff person doing their level best to work with a patient. The patients in the video were similar to the patients at the State Hospital: Adults with profound developmental disabilities.
The first scene in the video went something like this: The staff person walks into the room where a patient sits at a table, looking down. The staffer and speaks the patient’s name - “John,” and gets no response. The staffer moves closer to the patient and speaks their name more loudly, perhaps adding a phrase like: “look at me.” No response. Next, the staffer would speak even more emphatically and wave his arms, “JOHN, LOOK AT ME.” Nothing. Becoming visibly agitated, then apopletic, the staffer would continue to escalate his demands to the patient who continued to sit there. I began to question which of them belonged in the State Hospital - surely it was the crazy guy jumping around the room and not the calm man sitting at the table. At that point, the action would freeze and a booming male voice would say “TRY ANOTHER WAY.” In a new scene, a different staffer would enter the same room with the same patient, squat down in front of him, make eye contact, touch their arm gently and say, “Hi John.”
John would look up and smile.
In scene after scene, the pattern repeated: A staff person would try a strategy. It wouldn’t work. They’d repeat the same thing, only louder and with gestures. Then the voice over, and the new staffer with a successful approach. The effect was mesmerizing and the message powerful: In every case, the right strategy worked easily, instantly. It was like watching two different species perform the same task; one was always successful, the other, never. I knew which species I wanted to be.
Not much has changed for me. I still want to be that species. I’m still learning how. I know there is a connection between effective and easy; between pleasure and success. I’ve had some success finding that sweet spot, and I’ve loved every minute spent there.
Which is why I said yes when Christine Kane threw down the gauntlet and invited her readers to not complain, gossip or criticize for 21 consecutive days. It looked like a strategy right out of that training video, a direct line to the sweet spot. Going complaint-free was started by Will Bowen, the Pastor at Christ Church Unity in Kansas City, MO. Will and some of his congregation took the pledge in July 2006; now over 4.4 million people worldwide have made this commitment. You’ll recognize them by the Barney-purple rubber bracelets they wear and switch to the other wrist each time they - that is, I - slip. Which is often. Unbelievably, hilariously often at first. After 6 days of trying to get through day one, I finally succeeded. First thing the next morning - we’re talking 7:00 at the gym - was another slip. Now I’m back to day one.
By the third day, I reached this unavoidable conclusion: I’d become that other species without even realizing it. Species creep, you might call it. I’d become the crazy one jumping around the room wondering why I wasn’t making progress. I’d had no idea. I only knew that my life had gotten more crowded, more tiring, less joyful.
The last six days have been revelatory: The less I allow the nasties to come out of my mouth, the less they cross my mind. The less they cross my mind, the quieter my mind becomes. My mind is having a little vacation. It likes being this peaceful. I feel lighter - and I haven’t yet gotten past day one. I’ve gone through several stages already, from “how hard can this be, I almost never complain!” to “Do I do anything besides complain?” to “I can’t possibly do this” to “I want to do this - was that a complaint? Great, I want to get this.” Going back to Day One doesn’t feel like failure anymore, it feels like learning. And, I love learning. It’s fun. Thrilling, even. Who knows - perhaps a love of learning is what distinguishes the species I want to be from the one I don’t.
I can’t recommend this highly enough.
Who wants to join me?