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Start with Heart
How to Stay Focused on What You Really Want

More than any time in history mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
—WOODY ALLEN

It’s time to turn to the how of dialogue. How do you encourage the flow of meaning in the face of differing opinions and strong emotions? Given the average person’s track record, it can’t be all that easy. In fact, given most people’s long-standing habit of costly behaviors, it’ll probably require a lot of effort. The truth is, people can change. In fact, thousands of people we (the authors) have worked with over the past decades have made lasting improvements. But it requires work. You can’t simply drink a magic potion and walk away renewed. Instead, you’ll need to take a long hard look at yourself.

In fact, this is the first principle of dialogue—Start with Heart. That is, your own heart. If you can’t get yourself right, you’ll have a hard time getting dialogue right. When conversations become crucial you’ll resort to the forms of communication that you’ve grown up with—debate, silent treatment, manipulation, and so on.

WHEN WE DON’T WORK ON ME FIRST

Let’s start with a true story. Two young sisters and their father scurry into their hotel room after spending a hot afternoon at Disneyland. Given the repressive heat, the girls have consumed enough soda pop to fill a small barrel. As the two bursting kids enter their room, they have but one thought—to head for the head.

Since the bathroom is a one-holer, it isn’t long until a fight breaks out. Both of the desperate children start arguing, pushing, and name-calling as they dance around the tiny bathroom. Eventually one calls out to her father for help.

“Dad, I got here first!”

“I know, but I need to go worse!”

“How do you know? You’re not in my body. I didn’t even go before we left this morning!”

“You’re so selfish.”

Dad proposes a plan. “Girls, I’m not going to solve this for you. You can stay in the bathroom and figure out who goes first and who goes second. There’s only one rule. No hitting.”

As the two antsy kids begin their crucial conversation, Dad checks his watch. He wonders how long it’ll take. As the minutes slowly tick away, he hears nothing more than an occasional outburst of sarcasm. Finally after twenty-five long minutes, the toilet flushes. One girl comes out. A minute later, another flush and out walks her sister. With both girls in the room, Dad asks, “Do you know how many times both of you could have gone to the bathroom in the time it took you to work that out?”

The idea had not occurred to the little scamps, but the instant it does, it’s obvious what both immediately conclude.

“Lots of times, if she hadn’t been such a jerk.”

“Listen to her. She’s calling me names when she could have just waited. She always has to have her way!”

DON’T LOOK AT ME!

Laugh as we may at this story, these two kids behave no differently from the rest of us. When faced with a failed conversation, most of us are quick to blame others. If others would only change, then we’d all live happily ever after. If others weren’t so screwed up, we wouldn’t have to resort to silly games in the first place. They started it. It’s their fault, not ours. And so on.

Although it’s true that there are times when we are merely bystanders in life’s never-ending stream of head-on collisions, rarely are we completely innocent. More often than not, we do something to contribute to the problems we’re experiencing.

People who are best at dialogue understand this simple fact and turn it into the principle “Work on me first.” They realize that not only are they likely to benefit by improving their own approach, but also that they’re the only person they can work on anyway. As much as others may need to change, or we may want them to change, the only person we can continually inspire, prod, and shape—with any degree of success—is the person in the mirror.

There’s a certain irony embedded in this fact. People who believe they need to start with themselves do just that. As they work on themselves, they also become the most skilled at dialogue. So here’s the irony. It’s the most talented, not the least talented, who are continually trying to improve their dialogue skills. As is often the case, the rich get richer.

START WITH HEART

Okay, let’s assume we need to work on our own personal dialogue skills. Instead of buying this book and then handing it to a loved one or coworker and saying: “You’ll love this, especially the parts that I’ve underlined for you,” we’ll try to figure out how we ourselves can benefit. But how? Where do we start? How can we stay clear of unhealthy games?

Although it’s difficult to describe the specific order of events in an interaction as fluid as a crucial conversation, we do know one thing for certain: Skilled people Start with Heart. That is, they begin high-risk discussions with the right motives, and they stay focused no matter what happens.

They maintain this focus in two ways. First, they’re steely-eyed smart when it comes to knowing what they want. Despite constant invitations to slip away from their goals, they stick with them. Second, skilled people don’t make Sucker’s Choices (either/or choices). Unlike others who justify their unhealthy behavior by explaining that they had no choice but to fight or take flight, the dialogue-smart believe that dialogue, no matter the circumstances, is always an option.

Let’s look at each of these important heart-based assumptions in turn.

A MOMENT OF TRUTH

To see how the desires of our hearts can affect our ability to stay in dialogue, let’s take a look at a real-life example.

Greta, the CEO of a mid-sized corporation, is two hours into a rather tense meeting with her top leaders. For the past six months she has been on a personal campaign to reduce costs. Little has been accomplished to date, so Greta calls the meeting. Surely people will tell her why they haven’t started cutting costs. After all, she has taken great pains to foster candor.

Greta has just opened the meeting to questions when a manager haltingly rises to his feet, fidgets, stares at the floor, and then nervously asks if he can ask a very tough question. The way the fellow emphasizes the word very makes it sound as if he’s about to accuse Greta of kidnapping the Lindbergh baby.

The frightened manager continues.

“Greta, you’ve been at us for six months to find ways to cut costs. I’d be lying if I said that we’ve given you much more than a lukewarm response. If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about one thing that’s making it tough for us to push for cost cuts.”

“Great. Fire away,” Greta says as she smiles in response.

“Well, while you’ve been asking us to use both sides of our paper and forego improvements, you’re having a second office built.”

Greta freezes and turns bright red. Everyone looks to see what will happen next. The manager plunges on ahead.

“The rumor is that the furniture alone will cost $150,000. Is that right?”

So there we have it. The conversation has just turned crucial. Someone has just poured a rather ugly tidbit into the pool of meaning. Will Greta continue to encourage honest feedback, or will she shut the fellow down?

We call this a crucial conversation because how Greta acts during the next few moments will not only set people’s attitudes toward the proposed cost cutting, but will also have a huge impact on what the other leaders think about her. Does she walk the talk of openness and honesty? Or is she a raging hypocrite—like so many of the senior executives who came before her?

Will We Get Hooked?

How Greta behaves during this crucial conversation depends a great deal on how she handles her emotions while under attack. Sure, when she’s giving a speech or writing a memo, she’s all for candor. She’s a veritable cheerleader for candor. But what about now? Will Greta thank the fellow for taking a huge risk and being honest?

If she’s like most of us, Greta will defend herself. When we’re in the throes of high-stakes conversations, new (and less healthy) motives often supplant our original, more noble ones. If you are standing in front of a potentially hostile crowd, it’s a good bet you will change your original goal to the new goal of protecting your public image.

“Excuse me,” you might respond. “I don’t think that my new office is an appropriate topic for this forum.”

Bang. You’re dead. In one fell swoop you’ve lost buy-in, destroyed any hope for candor in this particular conversation, and confirmed everyone’s suspicion that you want honesty—but only as long as it makes you look good.

FIRST, FOCUS ON WHAT YOU REALLY WANT

In reality, Greta didn’t give in to her raging desire to defend herself. After being accused of not following her own advice, at first she looked surprised, embarrassed, and maybe even a little upset. Then she took a deep breath and said: “You know what? We need to talk about this. I’m glad you asked the question. It’ll give us a chance to discuss what’s really going on.”

And then Greta talked turkey. She explained that she felt the office was necessary but admitted that she had no idea what it would cost. So she sent someone to check the numbers. Meanwhile, she explained that building the office was a response to marketing’s advice to boost the company’s image and improve client confidence. And while Greta would use the office, it would be primarily a hosting location for marketing. When she saw the figures for the office, Greta was stunned and admitted that she should have checked the costs before signing a work order. So then and there she committed to drawing up a new plan that would cut costs by half or canceling the project entirely.

Later that day we asked Greta how she had been able to keep her composure under fire. We wanted to know exactly what had been going on in her head. What had helped her move from embarrassment and anger to gratitude?

“It was easy,” Greta explained. “At first I did feel attacked, and I wanted to strike back. To be honest, I wanted to put that guy in his place. He was accusing me in public and he was wrong.”

“And then it struck me,” she continued. “Despite the fact that I had four hundred eyeballs pinned to me, a rather important question hit me like a ton of bricks: ‘What do I really want here?’”

Asking this question had a powerful effect on Greta’s thinking. As she focused on this far more important question, she quickly realized that her goal was to encourage these two hundred managers to embrace the cost-reduction efforts—and to thereby influence thousands of others to do the same.

As Greta contemplated this goal, she realized that the biggest barrier she faced was the widespread belief that she was a hypocrite. On the one hand, she was calling for others to sacrifice. On the other, she appeared to be spending discretionary funds for her own comfort. It was at that moment that she was no longer ashamed or angry, but grateful. She couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to influence these leaders than the one offered up by this penetrating question. And so she moved to dialogue.

Refocus your brain. Now, let’s move to a situation you might face. You’re speaking with someone who completely disagrees with you on a hot issue. How does all of this goal stuff apply? As you begin the discussion, start by examining your motives. Going in, ask yourself what you really want.

Also, as the conversation unfolds and you find yourself starting to, say, defer to the boss or give your spouse the cold shoulder, pay attention to what’s happening to your objectives. Are you starting to change your goal to save face, avoid embarrassment, win, be right, or punish others? Here’s the tricky part. Our motives usually change without any conscious thought on our part. When adrenaline does our thinking for us, our motives flow with the chemical tide.

In order to move back to motives that allow for dialogue, you must step away from the interaction and look at yourself—much like an outsider. Ask yourself: “What am I doing, and if I had to guess, what does it tell me about my underlying motive?” As you make an honest effort to discover your motive, you might conclude: “Let’s see. I’m pushing hard, making the argument stronger than I actually believe, and doing anything to win. I’ve shifted from trying to select a vacation location to trying to win an argument.”

Once you call into question the shifting desires of your heart, you can make conscious choices to change them. “What I really want is to genuinely try to select a vacation spot we can all enjoy—rather than try to win people over to my ideas.” Put succinctly, when you name the game, you can stop playing it.

But how? How do you recognize what has happened to you, stop playing games, and then influence your own motives? Do what Greta did. Stop and ask yourself some questions that return you to dialogue. You can ask these questions either when you find yourself slipping out of dialogue or as reminders when you prepare to step up to a crucial conversation. Here are some great ones:

What do I really want for myself?

What do I really want for others?

What do I really want for the relationship?

Once you’ve asked yourself what you want, add one more equally telling question:

How would I behave if I really wanted these results?

Find your bearings. There are two good reasons for asking these questions. First, the answer to what we really want helps us to locate our own North Star. Despite the fact that we’re being tempted to take the wrong path by (1) people who are trying to pick a fight, (2) thousands of years of genetic hardwiring that brings our emotions to a quick boil, and (3) our deeply ingrained habit of trying to win, our North Star returns us to our original purpose.

“What do I really want? Oh yeah, I guess it’s not to make the other person squirm or to preen in front of a crowd. I want people to freely and openly talk about what it’ll take to cut costs.”

Take charge of your body. The second reason for asking what we really want is no less important. When we ask ourselves what we really want, we affect our entire physiology. As we introduce complex and abstract questions to our mind, the problem-solving part of our brain recognizes that we are now dealing with intricate social issues and not physical threats. When we present our brain with a demanding question, our body sends precious blood to the parts of our brain that help us think, and away from the parts of our body that help us take flight or begin a fight.

Asking questions about what we really want serves two important purposes. First, it reminds us of our goal. Second, it juices up our brain in a way that helps us keep focused.

Common Deviations

As we step up to a crucial conversation, fully intending to stimulate the flow of meaning, many of us quickly change our original objectives to much less healthy goals. For instance, when Greta fell under public attack, her immediate reaction was to do whatever it took to save face. Other common, but not-all-that-healthy, objectives include wanting to win, seeking revenge, and hoping to remain safe.

Wanting to win. This particular dialogue killer sits at the top of many of our lists. Heaven only knows that we come by this deadly passion naturally enough. Half of the TV programs we watch make heroes out of people who win at sports or game shows. Ten minutes into kindergarten we learn that if we want to get the teacher’s attention, we have to spout the right answer. That means we have to beat our fellow students at the same game. This desire to win is built into our very fiber before we’re old enough to know what’s going on.

Unfortunately, as we grow older, most of us don’t realize that this desire to win is continually driving us away from healthy dialogue. We start out with the goal of resolving a problem, but as soon as someone raises the red flag of inaccuracy or challenges our correctness, we switch purposes in a heartbeat.

First we correct the facts. We quibble over details and point out flaws in the other person’s arguments.

“You’re wrong! We’re not spending anywhere near a hundred and fifty thousand dollars on the furniture. It’s the redesign of the office that’s costing so much, not the furniture.”

Of course, as others push back, trying to prove their points, it’s not long until we change our goal from correcting mistakes to winning.

If you doubt this simple allegation, think of the two antsy young girls as they stared each other down in the cramped bathroom. Their original goal was simple enough—relief. But soon, caught up in their own painful game, the two set their jaws and committed to doing whatever it took to win—even if it brought them a fair amount of personal discomfort.

Seeking revenge. Sometimes, as our anger increases, we move from wanting to win the point to wanting to harm the other person. Just ask Greta. “To heck with honest communication!” she thinks to herself. “I’ll teach the moron not to attack me in public.” Eventually, as emotions reach their peak, our goal becomes completely perverted. We move so far away from adding meaning to the pool that now all we want is to see others suffer.

“I can’t believe that you’re accusing me of squandering good money on a perfectly fine office. Now, if nobody else has any intelligent questions, let’s move on!”

Everyone immediately clams up and looks at the floor. The silence is deafening.

Hoping to remain safe. Of course, we don’t always fix mistakes, aggressively discredit others, or heartlessly try to make them suffer. Sometimes we choose personal safety over dialogue. Rather than add to the pool of meaning, and possibly make waves along the way, we go to silence. We’re so uncomfortable with the immediate conflict that we accept the certainty of bad results to avoid the possibility of uncomfortable conversation. We choose (at least in our minds) peace over conflict. Had this happened in Greta’s case, nobody would have raised concerns over the new office, Greta never would have learned the real issue, and people would have continued to drag their feet.

SECOND, REFUSE THE SUCKER’S CHOICE

Now, let’s add one more tool that helps us focus on what we really want. We’ll start with a story.

The faculty of Beaumont High School is hashing out possible curriculum changes in an after-school meeting that’s been going on for hours. It’s finally the science department’s turn to present.

Royce, a chemistry teacher who’s been at Beaumont for thirty-three years, considers himself the elder statesman of the school. He’s much more fond of war stories than he is of neutrons and electrons, but the administration kind of turns a blind eye, because the guy’s a fixture.

At the principal’s cue, Royce clears his throat and begins to yammer on incoherently about the similarities between curriculum development and battle preparations. His antics are so embarrassing that the audience quietly heaves their shoulders as they futilely try to stifle their laughter.

Next, it’s Brent’s, the new guy’s, turn. A couple of weeks ago, the principal asked him to outline the science department’s proposed curriculum changes. Brent met with his colleagues (even Royce), gathered suggestions, and came ready to present.

As Brent begins, Royce starts demonstrating bayonet offensives with a yardstick, and Brent snaps. Slamming his fist on the table, he shouts, “Am I the only one who wonders why we even allow this fosil to talk? Did he miss a pill or something?”

A room full of stunned faces turns toward Brent. Realizing that his colleagues must think he’s possessed, Brent utters those words we’ve all come to hate, “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m the only one around who has the guts to speak the truth.”

What a tactic. Brent slams Royce in public, and then instead of apologizing or maybe simply fading into the shadows, he argues that what he just did was somehow noble.

Two ugly options. This pernicious strategy is particularly well suited for keeping us off track. It’s known as a Sucker’s Choice. In order to justify an especially sordid behavior, we suggest that we’re caught between two distasteful options. Either we can be honest and attack our spouse, or we can be kind and withhold the truth. Either we can disagree with the boss to help make a better choice—and get shot for it—or we can remain quiet, starve the pool, and keep our job. Pick your poison.

What makes these Sucker’s Choices is that they’re always set up as the only two options available. It’s the worst of either/or thinking. The person making the choice never suggests there’s a third option that doesn’t call for unhealthy behavior. For example, maybe there’s a way to be honest and respectful. Perhaps we can express our candid opinion to our boss and be safe.

Those offering up a Sucker’s Choice either don’t think of a third (and healthy) option—in which case it’s an honest but tragic mistake—or set up the false dichotomy as a way of justifying their unattractive actions. “I’m sorry, but I just had to destroy the guy’s self-image if I was going to keep my integrity. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the right thing to do.”

Open Yourself to Change

Not only do Sucker’s Choices set us up to take ineffective actions, but they close us down to change. They present our brain with problems easily solved with restricted blood flow. After all, if we are simply choosing between fight and flight, who needs much creative thought?

They also keep us stuck in ineffective strategies by justifying our attacking or retreating behaviors. Why alter our behavior when we’re the only one savvy enough to keep quiet? “Stand up to my boss? What turnip wagon did you just fall off?” “Tell my spouse that her parental style is too controlling? No way. I’ll pay for years.” In a similar vein, why would you ever change when you think you’re the only one around with an ounce of integrity? “Somebody has to state the ugly truth. It’s the only way I can look myself in the mirror.”

In summary, Sucker’s Choices are simplistic tradeoffs that keep us from thinking creatively of ways to get to dialogue, and that justify our silly games.

So how do we break away from perverted logic that keeps us trapped in hurtful behavior?

Search for the Elusive And

The best at dialogue refuse Sucker’s Choices by setting up new choices. They present themselves with tougher questions—questions that turn the either/or choice into a search for the all-important and ever-elusive and. (It is an endangered species, you know.) Here’s how this works.

First, clarify what you really want. You’ve got a head start if you’ve already Started with Heart. If you know what you want for yourself, for others, and for the relationship, then you’re in position to break out of the Sucker’s Choice.

“What I want is for my husband to be more reliable. I’m tired of being let down by him when he makes commitments that I depend on.”

Second, clarify what you really don’t want. This is the key to framing the and question. Think of what you are afraid will happen to you if you back away from your current strategy of trying to win or stay safe. What bad thing will happen if you stop pushing so hard? Or if you don’t try to escape? What horrible outcome makes game-playing an attractive and sensible option?

“What I don’t want is to have a useless and heated conversation that creates bad feelings and doesn’t lead to change.”

Third, present your brain with a more complex problem. Finally, combine the two into an and question that forces you to search for more creative and productive options than silence and violence.

“How can I have a candid conversation with my husband about being more dependable and avoid creating bad feelings or wasting our time?”

It’s interesting to watch what happens when people are presented with and questions after being stuck with Sucker’s Choices. Their faces become reflective, their eyes open wider, and they begin to think. With surprising regularity, when people are asked: “Is it possible that there’s a way to accomplish both?” they acknowledge that there very well may be.

Is there a way to tell your peer your real concerns and not insult or offend him?

Is there a way to talk to your neighbors about their annoying behavior and not come across as self-righteous or demanding?

Is there a way to talk with your loved one about how you’re spending money and not get into an argument?

IS THIS REALLY POSSIBLE?

Some people find this whole line of thinking comically unrealistic. From their point of view, Sucker’s Choices aren’t false dichotomies; they’re merely a reflection of an unfortunate reality.

“You can’t say something to the boss about our upcoming move. It’ll cost you your job.”

To these people we say: Remember Kevin? He, and almost every other opinion leader we’ve ever studied, has what it takes to speak up and maintain respect. Maybe you don’t know what Kevin did or what you need to do—but don’t deny the existence of Kevin or people like him. There is a third set of options out there that allows you to add meaning to the pool and build on the relationship.

When we (the authors) are in the middle of an on-site workshop and we suggest there are alternatives to Sucker’s Choices, someone invariably says: “Maybe you can speak honestly and still be heard in other organizations, but if you try it here, you’ll be eaten alive!” Or the flip side: “You’ve got to know when to fold if you want to survive for another day.” Then in a hail of “I’ll say!” and “Here, here!” many nod in agreement.

At first, we thought that maybe there were places where dialogue couldn’t survive. But then we learned to ask: “Are you saying there isn’t anyone you know who is able to hold a high-risk conversation in a way that solves problems and builds relationships?” There usually is.

SUMMARY—START WITH HEART

Here’s how people who are skilled at dialogue stay focused on their goals—particularly when the going gets tough.

Work on Me First

Remember that the only person you can directly control is yourself.

Focus on What You Really Want

When you find yourself moving toward silence or violence, stop and pay attention to your motives.

Ask yourself: “What does my behavior tell me about what my motives are?”

Then, clarify what you really want. Ask yourself: “What do I want for myself? For others? For the relationship?”

And finally, ask: “How would I behave if this were what I really wanted?”

Refuse the Sucker’s Choice

As you consider what you want, notice when you start talking yourself into a Sucker’s Choice.

Watch to see if you’re telling yourself that you must choose between peace and honesty, between winning and losing, and so on.

Break free of these Sucker’s Choices by searching for the and.

Clarify what you don’t want, add it to what you do want, and ask your brain to start searching for healthy options to bring you to dialogue.