Air is the invisible thread that connects us all—the unseen vehicle that carries voices, truths, and confessions—across a room, an ocean, and even out into the unknown. As a therapist, speaker, and writer, my world is all about words. Yet sometimes there are no words sufficient enough to convey the essence, emotion, or depth of a potentially pivotal moment.
People Will Forget
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Maya Angelou’s wise words are a source of inspiration and encouragement, especially for those seeking to bring influence and impact to their respective callings. Yet, even offered by one of the best, they are still just words. The sentiment held within her wisdom carries a message that can only be truly understood when experienced in the flesh.
And little did I know that my first real embodied experience of this sage missive would be delivered up by a wise and wily 17-year-old.
A Messenger in the Making
At age 14, she arrived in my office with her parents following a lengthy hospitalization for a life-threatening condition, a shy and sunken version of a girl they said they no longer recognized. And while she had crawled her way out of the woods of danger, this young lady had a very long road ahead of her.
With a ton of support, she traversed a painfully serpentine path of long-buried secrets revealed, battled monsters of guilt and shame, looked her fears straight in the face, and took bold risks in the spirit of freedom and health. And three years later, in tandem with her high school graduation, she was ready for another kind of commencement.
The Elixir
We decided for our final session to invite her parents in for a “transition ceremony” to celebrate this hard-won battle. Through a sea of grateful tears, we shared stories of the bravery, openness, and grit that she, and her family, had to muster to traverse this often-treacherous path to healing. Yet at the end of this road, they emerged with a treasure trove of healthy communication skills, better boundaries, an appreciation for honesty, and how to connect in love rather than fear. And before we ended, I asked if she had any feedback for me.
She paused for a moment and then her smile turned mischievous. No doubt noticing the lean-in from the rest of us, she drew out her pause for dramatic effect (she was pursuing theater, after all). She seemed to revel in the anticipation she was building as we awaited her big reveal. I really didn’t know what she was going to say, but it was not this, and I just about fell out of my chair.
“Your noises.”
The Lesson
What?!
I am certain my face flushed a thousand shades of red as my mind grasped futilely for some hint as to what she meant. I awkwardly smiled at her parents but was secretly mortified that they were wondering what sort of nonsense had been going on over the last three years. Hoping I didn’t appear as embarrassed as I felt, I simply repeated, “My noises?”
“Yeah! Dr. Pleasants, you make the best noises!” Then she proceeded to launch into an Oscar-worthy impersonation of the very best of my “hmmms,” “uh huhs,” “awwws,” and “ohhhs,” along with lots of sympathetic sighs and dramatic deep breaths. It was absolutely hysterical.
Dancing around my periphery was an awareness that this was actually quite important. Having returned to her previous savvy sassiness and reclaimed her commitment to speaking the truth, I knew she was gifting me something profound. But still, I had to ask. “But what about all my fancy insights, scholarly information, and astute advice?”
She swatted that away like a silly afterthought. Sure, that was all in there too, she professed, but for her, it was all about the noises. “I always knew you were hearing me,” she said, “like really hearing me. I knew you got me.”
“Being heard and understood is one of the greatest desires of the human heart.”
~ Richard Carlson ~
Of course, the fruits of my schooling and training were in there—and she certainly used every bit of it in her process. But it was the “noises” of attunement that served as the vehicle for all of that juicy knowledge and education to take root. How she felt was the catalyst remembered in her journey, just as how I felt in response to her words was a catalyst in mine.
Attuned Presence
To bear witness to such a profound journey of healing and reclamation of life, I cherish this memory that serves as an ever-present reminder that it’s not about having the right words and the right timing. Because sometimes (often) there are no perfect words when it comes to conveying your presence and your care, but there are certainly a lot of perfect noises.