Whilst in the United States, Ven. Nigel Edmonds was invited to
make a three-month retreat at a Cistercian monastery. He shared some
of his thoughts & reflections with friends through letters he wrote.
In this particular letter, he describes a conflict situation that
arose, & hopes that the description of his experience & how he dealt
with it might prove useful to those who are themselves endeavouring
to cope with conflict situations in the workplace. It should be added
that all Cistercian monasteries maintain some sort of "industry" that
helps to generate finance for the upkeep of the institution. Gethsemani,
for example, produces cheese. The monastery in which Ven. Nigel was
making his retreat manufactures jam.
March 2001
Dear S_____,
A period of time that had been spent in relative peace & harmony
was rudely shattered about three weeks ago, when I arrived about 10
minutes late for work at the jam factory. Usually, we start work at
the monastery at 9am, but at the jam factory they like everybody to
be there about a quarter of an hour earlier. One morning, I arrived
about 10 minutes late. The Prior, who works on the labelling machine,
flew into a rage. He charged up to me, jutted his chin out, & shouted
repeatedly: "you're late! you're late!" I immediately apologised to
him. Subsequently I ensured that I was always early. Others also arrived
late - sometimes very late, but received NO chastisement of ANY kind.
The Prior would just smile at them & say "Hello". I kept what I observed
to myself.
Time passed - The Prior's attitude toward me remained hostile. He
took to hovering over me whilst I worked, & constantly attacked me
for the way I carried out various tasks. I worked hard to remain mindful
of the fact that when dealing with people who manifest a high level
of rage & anger, one is confronted with HISTORY; it's a great mistake
to take such manifestations PERSONALLY. The rage has a root source
that even the victim doesn't necessarily recognise. Should anyone
come into the crosshairs, they get shot at - it's NOT personal - but
suffering is nevertheless experienced by the "target", & in their
own pain, it's difficult NOT to perceive the attack as personal. OBSERVATION
of the enraged person provides important clues - perhaps an angry
scowl that has become so habitual that it now forms the natural expression.
The enraged mind, when present for many years, etches deep lines into
the face - all kinds of idiosyncratic behaviour & pitch of voice bear
witness to the presence of rage that existed BEFORE the enraged person
met US - their body language & physiognomy tell us this; it's very
important that we "listen".
In the case of the Prior, HIS rage, when lacking a present-focus,
would be sublimated as neurotic humour - everything for him was a
big joke. He leaped about like some malevolent elf - sarcastic, insolent,
his face an ever-changing mask of silly & outlandish expressions.
We are supplied with caps that we have to wear inside the factory.
White, baseball-style contraptions emblazoned with the jam factory
logo & product-title. I observed how this man, in fits of aggression,
would spin his hat around & wear it back-to-front, as young people
& Rap stars do. This pattern of behaviour was totally predictable,
never wavered. Up would come the rage, round would spin the hat -
both fascinating & unnerving. Unnerving, because his swivelling-hat
trick was invariably followed by a visit to my work space, where I
would be treated to another ritual outburst of abuse.
As can be imagined, the continued attacks every day were beginning
to play on my nerves. No matter how determined I was to maintain perspective,
I was well-aware that the initial outburst set the precedent, & that
all subsequent behaviour would be influenced by it. Recognising this
is helpful, but to be hurt is to be hurt. I KNEW I had to accept &
acknowledge my own experience of woundedness; a failure to do so would
incur denial, which is a futile & stagnant position to find oneself
in. I embraced my pain - but at the same time strove to be convivial,
to accept the outbursts, & avoid reactions that would feed his rage.
When first put to working in the factory, I packed boxes of jam
on pallets. I had been advised that an inch gap had to be left at
the front of the pallets - this was to avoid damage to the boxes when
being moved by the forklift truck. In the case of a short pallet,
it was acceptable if the boxes overlapped a little at the back, but
the gap at the front HAD to be maintained. One morning, I found myself
with a short pallet. I therefore began packing the boxes as I had
been instructed, leaving about an inch clearance in the front, with
the boxes slightly overlapping at the rear. I had stacked about a
third of a layer when I realised I was being stared at by the Prior.
As our eyes met, he stopped his work, hunched his shoulders, spun
his cap around backwards on his head, & advanced towards me.
He reached my pallet, & stood there staring at it. He started to
shout that the boxes were overlapping at the back, pointing at the
offending overhang with a frenzied shaking of his index finger. I
began to explain that I had been instructed to leave a gap at the
FRONT, & that if it was a short pallet, to ignore any rear overlap
- but he wasn't listening. Continuing to shout & scream, he then commenced
to hop around the pallet, kicking boxes here & there, whilst every
now & then returning to stick his face into mine & shout even louder.
His tirade went on & on. I repacked the pallet as he wanted it, with
no gap at the back. However - there was now no gap at the FRONT, either,
& when the forklift driver came along, he gently reminded me that
I HAD to leave that gap.
The following day, just after tea-break, I was given another short
pallet to load. Once again, I packed it as instructed by the forklift
driver, & once again, having packed about a third of the pallet, I
was attacked by the Prior. His outburst was more extreme than the
previous day, & as I watched this incredible performance - the Prior
shouting & screaming, leaping around the pallet & kicking boxes up
& down the workspace, I thought he looked like some ancient tribesman
doing a war-dance. I made one last effort to explain what the forklift
driver had advised me, & then I gave up. Blind rage belongs to itself,
it's an only child; it feeds from within & when bloated, spews out
indiscriminately. I had had enough. The cycle HAD to be broken, but
that would only be possible through a third party. When the next batch
of packing came to an end, I sought out Father ---------, who had
been appointed as my retreat-director. In private, I explained the
situation to him, & suggested that if my presence in the same workspace
as the Prior's was going to be a catalyst for continual abusive treatment,
it might be better if I was moved to a different area of the factory,
or given alternative tasks to carry out elsewhere. I also added that
it would probably be better for the Prior, also - I had no wish to
be a continual source of disturbance.
Father--------- was very concerned, & said that he would speak to
the Prior. At the end of the morning's work, the Prior asked if we
could talk together for a few minutes, & I agreed. "How are we going
to resolve this?" he said. I explained that I had already spoken to
Father---------. "Ho!! - I see!!" shouted the Prior - "now perhaps
you'd like to talk to ME about it!" Overlooking his belligerence,
I simply stated that it would not be possible for me to continue to
work at the conveyor-belt if I was to be continually attacked. "Ho!!
I see!!" shouted the Prior, sticking his hands on his hips, elbows
jutting out. Stepping up to me, he pushed his face into mine: "I have
to say that I find it strange that I have to keep telling you the
same thing over & over again every morning, I can't understand why
you just don't do what you're told - do you think what I'm telling
you to do is unreasonable?"
I resisted the temptation to point out that the instructions he
was giving me conflicted with the forklift driver's. Years ago, when
serving in the armed forces, we were advised that when confronted
with conflicting orders, the procedure was to obey the last order
given. This was the approach I had been adopting with the Prior. When
taking pallets away, of course, the last instruction I would receive
would be from the forklift driver, so I was caught in a crossfire,
with all attempts to explain my position being ignored. I didn't put
it that way to the Prior, however. All I said was: "I don't think
what you are asking is unreasonable, but the aggressive manner IN
WHICH you ask IS. It seems to me that all this started about three
weeks ago, when you scolded me for being late - since then, you have
seemed unable to move on from that mind-set." Interestingly, he didn't
deny my version of the conflict. I went on: "Treating me like this
constantly is hurting me very much - as a result, I become afraid
when I'm near you, waiting for another attack. I'm becoming very confused,
& my efficiency is suffering as a result. You notice this, & attack
me again. We're on a downward spiral, & things are just going to get
worse & worse".
His hands were once again on his hips, once more jutting out his
chin: "Oh, I see - I've hurt you, have I?" he said, in a sarcastic
tone. "Yes" I replied. That was all I said. It was the truth. I was
hurting, I was in pain. I was in pain as we were speaking, & it was
of more concern to me that he understood THAT than anything else.
I didn't bring up the matter of the highly partial way in which he
dished-out his scoldings, I didn't even think of it. In fact, I said
nothing in my defence whatsoever. Then a really strange thing happened
- he suddenly became quiet - Absolutely silent. Still. At length,
in a very sober & soft voice, which I hadn't heard him use before,
he said: "Well, perhaps we can start again." Then he added, again
in a quietened tone: "I'm sorry if I hurt you". There wasn't a trace
of sarcasm in his voice, & his eyes regarded me steadily, openly.
I was surprised, & very moved. We shook hands, & as we did so, I said:
"I'm sorry, too".
It's been something of a surprise to realise how vulnerable I am
these days. It's not a question of being more sensitive, but rather,
being willing to be, at last, as sensitive as I AM - & always have
been. Not rushing to man the defences & deflecting the Prior's attack
with games of my own, I found myself open to just being deeply hurt,
saddened. By the time the Prior had wanted to resolve the situation,
however defensively, I didn't find myself counter-attacking or covering
up. I simply informed him how much he was hurting me. In other words,
I DID NOTHING BUT OWN MY OWN WOUNDS. - Amazing! None of this was "conscious"
on my part, it wasn't some new, subtle strategy because there wasn't
any "game" going on, I didn't try to "win". As I said before, the
most surprising aspect of the whole thing was the way in which a bare,
unadorned expression of woundedness quietened him. This couldn't have
happened if my statement hadn't been MY OWN TRUTH - my own, AUTHENTIC
experience of pain, which, ultimately, was ALL I shared with him.
Ha! - Incredible.
Later that day, I was attacked by a fierce migraine. I realised
that this was the result of a sudden release of pent-up emotions &
accumulated stress. It lasted till I went to bed that evening.
Always your friend,
N