Instinct, Minder-Mentor for Communication Skills

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2015.

For years, various people  - family, friends, teachers, work colleagues – would accuse me of exaggerating my hearing problem and/ or using it as an excuse for not having heard or quite understood what they are saying, the clear implication being that implying it is more likely down to my inability to concentrate or even bother to listen. I stopped trying to explain about perceptive deafness years ago; few people have either the patience or inclination to listen since they are convinced that know me better than I know myself.

The problem with perceptive deafness - for others as well as those like myself - is that our hearing is affected not only by the pitch of someone’s voice, but also by existing acoustics. I have mentioned this before, but a reader seems to have a similar problem; he or she writes: “I can hear some people quite well in a particular room or environment, but elsewhere I can hardly hear them at all. Everyone thinks I am not paying attention, at home as well as at school, but it isn’t that, honestly.” Indeed, it isn’t, and I urge this reader seek to ask their GP to refer them to an audiologist asap.

At school, I would sit at the back of some classrooms so I would be less likely to be asked questions; consequently, of course, I missed even more of the lesson for barely hearing a word. At home, my father, especially, would angrily accuse me of ignoring him time and again for the same reason. It was not much different at work at first … until the problem was finally identified by professionals; at last, I had not only an explanation, but also special hearing aids (imported from Germany) to vastly alleviate the problem.

For years, though, I honestly thought I was mentally impaired.

I have often reflected on how those inner selves that come together to create human identity are a motley crew, invariably, adapting to a variety of circumstances, performing accordingly for a variety of people in a variety of ways, depending on why we have (either consciously or subconsciously) brought them into play in the first place.

Whatever, possibly the most important lesson any of us will learn as we progress through our lives -  whoever and wherever we may be in the world, whatever our ethnicity, religion, gender or  socio-cultural agenda – is getting  to know our various selves, learn to listen and which to trust; collectively, these are often called instincts which I have heard them referred to - not inappropriately in my view - as our ‘Minders’; I get that, I really do, and always have while others may well take some convincing.

For years, I knew something was wrong with me; my instincts told me to seek help, but no one would listen until a particularly nasty case of earache caused me to see a GP who referred me to an audiology consultant; the rest, as they say, is history.

Mind you, I still need to explain my hearing impairment to some people, especially if they are softly spoken or do not speak clearly. Even as a young child, though, I discovered that I catch more of what someone is saying if he or she is facing me; without knowing it, I was lip reading. That was the easy part. Have you noticed how some people will look anywhere but directly at you when they engage you in conversation? In my case, it always has to be my fault if I misunderstand, especially now I am 70+ as they can always blame old age just as, years ago, they would blame a child’s inattentiveness. <>

There is a pub in London called The Masque Haunt. I once overheard a complete stranger comment as he looked up at the name, ‘Now, that’s life. Oh, yes, that’s life …’

This poem is a kenning.

INSTINCT, MINDER-MENTOR FOR COMMUNICATION SKILLS 

I tell people what to do

and where to go, putting them

in their place

where needs must, advise how

not to lower the eye,

but appear relaxed to all intents

and lesser purposes,

direct the semblance of a smile

to complete the illusion

I fulfil the role of showman,

 treading no boards, just dreams

(nor gently either)

inciting the coward to bold acts

likely to pass for bravery

by the less discerning observer,

appropriately applauded

by an audience with its own ideas

of entertainment…

I hunger for a share of glory,

albeit behind scenes played out

to (near) perfection

by conscience and consciousness

at centre-stage

of everyday deceptions produced 

by circumstances

and directed by those old standbys,

diplomacy and discretion

Minder-Mentor of a human condition

some call self-preservation

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015