In this post I want to explore the power of our hidden assumptions, starting with a little exercise:

Cross your arms.

Now uncross them and cross them in the opposite direction. 

Find that a little challenging? 

That exercise comes from the book, The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life, by my latest podcast guest, improvisational musician and author Stephen Nachmanovitch. He uses that exercise to illustrate an important point:

“We get comfortable with a certain way of doing or seeing, and that becomes the universe of possibility…To create something new, you have to unmake yourself to some extent. And that can be tremendously difficult.”

If it’s so difficult, why bother? Says Nachmanovitch:

“If we operate within an unexamined [set of assumptions], then our choices are made for us in advance….We may not even realize how constricted our perceptions (and thus our actions) are without investigating their basis and the assumptions they contain.” 

An interesting point. We usually don’t think of our choices as “being made in advance” according to some algorithm written by our past. And yet...it happens all the time. I mean, how often do you actually decide which direction to cross your arms? Probably never.

In the world of difficult conversations, we often do the same thing: We interpret and react to words, facial expressions and tone of voice, all according to some pattern established long ago. Rather than fully taking in the person in front of us, we’re filtering the interaction — often unconsciously — through a set of assumptions about what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s good and what’s bad, what’s acceptable and what’s unacceptable. 

In other words, our own ”story” is speaking so loudly we can’t acknowledge, let alone hear, the story of the other person — the story that created their filter, their assumptions, their algorithm. A story that if we knew, would give us clues as to how to communicate with that person more effectively. 

So how do we “unmake” ourselves? How do we free ourselves from assumptions we may not even know we have, so that our filters don’t prevent us from seeing what’s really there? 

In my experience the most direct way to surface unexamined assumptions is to develop a sensitivity to one’s own reactions — to realize, in the moment, when our own thoughts and emotions have clogged the communication airwaves and we’re no longer listening to what the other person is saying. 

Knee-jerk conclusions, sudden emotional outbursts, harsh judgements -- reactions that come out like uncontrollable sneezes — are all examples of unexamined assumptions at work: ones that prevent us from being fully present.

Let me give a personal example — a story that I share in my book:

Many years ago, when my son was in third grade, I was trying to help him with a math problem. He was finding it difficult and eventually became frustrated, upset and hard to work with. Interestingly, as his emotions rose, so did mine. I was starting to get angry with him, and I was on the verge of “losing it.” 

Even in the midst of my emotions, however, I knew what was going on. When I was in third grade, I too had a hard time with math. My mother, an elementary school teacher, and my father, a mathematician, had little patience with my difficulties. Their efforts to “help” me followed a set pattern: they’d get exasperated, then angry, and sometimes ended up slapping me for being so dense. It was, needless to say, a traumatic experience that for years created a set of unexamined assumptions: that I was bad at math, that being bad at math was a sign of stupidity, and that being stupid made you unloveable.

Sitting with my son decades later, these assumptions became a filter through which I viewed our interaction. Tensions were rising, and I was at risk of treating him the way I’d been treated many years before. 

Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to make a different choice. Rather than erupting in anger, I suggested we set aside the hard problem and move on to an easier one. When we later came back to the one causing the difficulty, the tension in our relationship was gone and he sailed right through it.

The universe of possibilities had expanded, just a little.

The difference between being caught in an unexamined assumption and knowing we’re caught is the difference, says Nachmanovitch, between being “stuck” and being “sticky.” When you’re stuck, you're stuck. But when you’re sticky you still have a few degrees of freedom, you can peel yourself away from your sticky assumption to create a different response, a different outcome. That’s why becoming aware of our unexamined assumptions is so important. As Nachmanovitch writes:

“Life depends on our transcending the premises that have confined us. The crucial moment is identifying them. Freedom from our presuppositions is and always has been an option.”

I invite you to learn more from Stephen in my conversation with him on my latest podcast: “There are no things, only relationships.”

You may also want to check out his two books. The Art of Is, which I mentioned above, and his earlier work, the wonderful and iconic Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art.