An Introvert on Communication
In Celeste Headlee’s book, We Need to Talk, she mentions that conversation and communication differ; where conversation must be done with words spoken, and communication can be done without.
In short, communication is the complex art of body language, eye contact, and hand gestures.
As an observant introvert, someone who grew up with parents who expected others (their children) to recognize their own emotions and take on the responsibility for them, and an admirer of various psychologies, I’d say that my nonverbal communication skills are fairly keen.
Though my mind automatically comes to immensely plausible conclusions about another and their words in conversation, it doesn’t necessarily mean these conclusions are always correct.
In both Blink and Talking to Strangers by Malcom Gladwell, the themes are akin to snap judgements and inferences we obtain of others over time.
I absolutely love Malcom Gladwell not merely for his ambition towards in depth research, but also because he openly contradicts himself; oh, how I am a complete fool for utter transparency!
He writes of both the pros and cons for following your instinct in intuition as well as the pros and cons of being skeptical of them.
As anything, you must find a balance.
Being able to read other’s communication through body language, eye contact, and hand gestures is such an intricate skill to have, in which I truly believe it will always be flawed for this very reason.
I always preferred to be on the outside of any conversation for various reasons, though, one reason was that it always fascinated me to watch others engage with another, observing the “words” unspoken between them.
It’s astonishing to me how often things are so easily miscommunicated and/or misunderstood in conversation even when talking face to face.
Because of this, I refuse to ever have an important and/or meaningful conversation over text again.
I believe it was in Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman where I read that attempting to get one’s idea across to another perfectly is synonymous with tapping a beat on a table with a pen and asking someone to guess the song correctly, which rarely happens.
Perception is based on bias, experience, emotions, environment, and who knows what else; trying to get someone to see our point of view entirely is difficult merely because the human mind is as well.
(My understandings of anything cease at the human mind.)
Though, that doesn’t mean we should shut down and never conversate ever again (even though my introverted mind favored this idea).
This is where the importance of nonverbal communication comes in (along with tone and word choice, of course!)
All in all, I believe the core of body language and what it may be stating is in the core of the human body itself — the chest and abdomen.
If it's closing in on itself (slouched inward), this person may be distant, distrusting, insecure, and/or uncomfortable in the environment they are currently in.
It’s a way of protecting the most vital organs of our entire being.
Or it could also mean they have a habit to improper posture.
(I’m telling you…nonverbal communication is beyond a complexity that I just barely understand.)
And if they are upright, it could mean they are confident and open to vulnerability.
Where the person’s eyes look give you a greater reading of this, whether glued to the floor, peering straight ahead, or being curious of the environment surrounding.
As they say (I’m not sure who they are, in all honesty), the eyes are the window to the soul.
They also say that when someone isn’t looking directly into your eyes, they’re lying, which I don’t believe is entirely and always the case.
I don’t remember what book I read this in, most likely We Need to Talk or Thinking Fast and Slow (maybe it was a Ted Talk, I don’t know, sorry) but it was mentioned that our eyes are akin to our phones — we may not have anything bad or something to hide in them, yet we still flip our phone face down when around others because our phones are a gateway to our most vulnerable information of us.
Once I learned of this, I started keeping my phone face up to force myself to find comfort in vulnerable moments as such; maintaining eye contact became much more natural to me thereafter.
I also read somewhere (Pinterest) that one’s eyes may move to a section of their brain as they attempt to gather information while speaking on a topic from said section.
For example, if someone was talking about playing the ukulele, they’re eyes would move to the right, as the right side of the brain controls such motor skills for playing an instrument.
I’m uncertain if this is true in any sense, but I thought it to be an ingenious and poetic theory regardless.
I feel as if hand gestures are the most simple to understand in nonverbal communication simply because they mostly speak on their own account.
When someone has a deep passion for using hand gestures when they speak, I try my hardest not to imagine their words fading, becoming replaced by opera, seeing their gestures in pure symphony.
I noticed recently that when I spoke, I rarely used hand gestures.
I’d just sit and talk; how bland of me.
And that may sound a bit harsh, but when I’d tune in to myself speak, I was speaking rather bland and monotoned.
Then I’d noticed that I’d always be slouching with heavy eyelids.
Conversation, to me, was more like being in a torture chamber than seeking and sharing ideas.
And what, you may ask, had fixed this grey lens of mine?
Hand gestures — creating my own dance of hands.
I first started using hand gestures when I’d read aloud my posts before publishing them; my tone was prominent and enthusiastic, I was upright and bright eyed, I was passionate about what I was saying, and even though I hadn’t an audience listening (besides my cats), I felt the difference from reading aloud compared to speaking with others.
As someone who’s sensitive to nonverbal communication, I’m often favored by those who struggle to communicate verbally.
Some time ago, when I was living in Canada, a friend of mine was hinting at me something endlessly.
It made me beyond anxious and overwhelmed being given information that I hadn’t a clue what to do with.
Though, I feared mentioning it because what if this was one of those times that my snap judgements were wrong? I’d feel/look foolish, and perhaps self-absorbed.
Though, the angst ate at me, so I mentioned it to my friend, as to which they completely shrunk into utter defensive denial.
Thereafter, I retracted my assumption and stated I was wrong to assume.
And then, their hints became even more profound and obvious.
I never said anything any further about it; after I left Canada, we never spoke again.
In that moment, I remembered Jack Kerouac:
Offer them what they secretly want, and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.
With this, I also realized that I can’t accept anyone incapable of clear verbal communication, otherwise I’d be in a constant of reading between the lines, which is fairly lonely…almost as if having a conversation with myself.
Communication and conversating go hand in hand, where you can’t, nor mustn’t, have one without the other, otherwise things can become scattered out of proportion and, frankly, perception.
Though communicating nonverbally is often done subconsciously, I feel as if it’s necessary to practice in order to emulate an inviting tone to another of what we are attempting to communicate verbally; and only then will we find harmony in conversation.
Communication and conversating go hand in hand, where you can’t, nor mustn’t, have one without the other, otherwise things can become scattered out of proportion and, frankly, perception.
