On Saying “No” and Building Empathy . . . . In Memoriam: Alan Rickman

By this late date in January, we’re now thoroughly entrenched in winter, with the joy of the holiday season feeling well behind us. (“Black Monday” is reported by some to have fallen on January 18th, when we faced bitterly cold weather and the large, dread- inducing credit card bills from the holidays, that arrived in our daily mail.) For some, at least, the winter “blahs” of various kinds have set in. I find this reflected in many of the blogs, newsletter articles and social media posts that I read, in which many reflect on the need to “do less” in our businesses, to “say ‘No’ more often” to volunteering time and expertise, and to pace ourselves in what we do. One blogger speaks of the need to spend more time with family; another of the need to work on improving one’s fitness or health, as the new year takes shape (and not only due to New Year’s Resolutions, which if made, have often already been broken.)

Erica Diamond, a blogger on Youinc.com and a certified lifestyle coach and wife and mother, who has founded an award-winning women’s lifestyle blog and writes for and speaks to the media on women entrepreneurship, wrote yesterday of the work she has done, in order to decline the pesky requests from others to do extra work, and usually not for pay. Rather than give in to the people-pleaser (accommodating) response of “Of course I’ll do that,” she’s learned to say, “No thank you. Not right now.” And further, she’ll say: “I am happy to jump on a 10-15 minute call to help you where I can. I am so sorry, my plate is overflowing at the moment and that is all I can give right now. For anything more, please see my coaching page at www.Erica-Diamond.com.”

Good for her and let’s all take a page from her notebook.

Diamond stresses that saying “No” is an acquired skill and need not dash or “shut down” the spirits of the person asking us for support: “And when I say ‘no thank you, not right now,’ it doesn’t mean I won’t be interested in a couple of weeks, months or next year. It means for TODAY.” She cites the statement that “Saying No to Someone, Is Saying Yes to Yourself.” Like Diamond, I strive to find time to do self-nurturing things: reading a much recommended book, walking to a nearby park (in good weather), taking a painting class (or heck, even using the adult colouring book that sits, collecting dust on my kitchen table!) There’s nothing new to the reality (but it bears repeating) that taking on that one “extra” thing is what will “make us collapse like a house of cards.” Or will turn us, contorted, into a human pretzel.

Diamond recommends several strategies to say “no,” without feeling guilt. Included in them is the concept of not answering “on the spot,” if you are being “worked on” by someone for support. Give yourself time to figure out what your “human pretzel threshold” is. Try saying, “ ‘Can I think it over and get back to you?’ ” I’ve used that one, when caught off guard, and then followed it up a day or two later with a “no” that was more firmly and kindly worded than it would have been earlier. Sometimes folk take such a deferral for a “yes.” But then I simply list off all of the many, many commitments I have and re-state the “no.”

A friend has told me that she even confronts the person asking, if necessary, by saying that applying “ ‘peer pressure [on me] won’t affect the overload on my calendar, so please don’t keep attacking my resolve, here!’ ” Isn’t it so true that those who request our support, or volunteer services even after we’ve refused, often have no qualms about pressuring and manipulating us, as a follow up strategy? That I find angering. It tends to puts me off that group or organization longer than my schedule alone otherwise would.

On the importance of saying “no,” neither Diamond nor I has anything substantially new to add. While we have to be empathetic to our own needs (by saying some necessary “no’s” to others), I want to expand this discussion with something more empathetic toward others. My life has been greatly touched in the last eight days by those who have said “yes” to an earlier, longer-term, open-ended requests that I have politely made, to work on or share some aspect of my life with them.

Business mentor Monica Kreuger (Chief Visionary Officer of the Praxis School of Entrepreneurship) took some time amidst her exceptionally hectic schedule this week to respond to my recently published ebook, Getting Past It: Five Creatives Face Adversity. Receiving those supportive and interested comments touched me deeply and has powerfully motivated me to continue to write creatively and also to continue to work as an entrepreneur who writes business documents. Two days later, editor of the Saskatoon Express, Cam Hutchinson, took an hour out of his equally impossible schedule to talk about the newspaper’s needs, the writing world and potential future opportunities. He was in the midst of a very busy production schedule, but still took the time. Bless them both.

And as an audio backdrop to these blogs and thoughts, has come the voice of the recently departed UK actor Alan Rickman. That voice is so familiar to me, from having watched the more gentle, reflective roles he portrayed in film. From spending time as a student in the UK, I knew his artistry was more complicated than the nonetheless remarkable, villainous roles he mastered for Hollywood (and on stage). I regret not having seen him, live, in the West End. Here was a man who (10 years ago) co-edited and produced a , My Name is , telling the story of a 23 year old American woman activist, from her correspondence and journals, who was killed in the Middle East, for protesting the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. Many, moving testimonials have poured into on Rickman’s death (on January 14). But one of the most noteworthy has been one from Rachel Corrie’s father, who spoke of Rickman’s profound kindness and respect, saying that he was a great “friend to Rachel,” even though they never met. Rickman, known as a lifelong Labour Party activist, cared for the grieving Corrie family who attended the opening of the play in , offering them tickets to others, a lunch or a visit. And, most of all, he edited and directed the play for two years, before concluding that chapter of his work (and the Corries’). The play since been translated into many languages. It’s read and performed, world-wide.

Rickman had many better known roles on stage and in film. Heaven knows that artists of his calibre have often to say “no” to the requests of others. I have no doubt that Rickman managed that sensibly. But I’m inspired to write about him, as a coda to this posting on saying “no,” because in many ways that mattered, he often said “yes”: When he could, as the obituaries describe, he wrote letters of reference for fledgling colleagues. He offered career advice to newbie actors. He strived to return messages within a day of receiving them, wherever in the world he was. Rickman loyally and remarkably gave of his time and encouragement, attending fringe venues all over the UK to see the work of other, often lesser known, actors. And he strove to attend stage productions that featured his former colleagues and friends. Shrewdly brilliant. Curious. Thoughtful. Caring, loyal and courageous, Rickman should be remembered not only for a distinctive voice that one colleague said “could caress language with laidback seductiveness.” He should be remembered more for his decency and kindness.

Reading about and remembering Alan Rickman in this way; analyzing curriculum and discussing strategy with entrepreneurial visionary Monica Kreuger; discussing current events and some of the perils of professional writers with editor Cam Hutchinson; are all gifts that have been given to me, in the past week and for which I’m deeply grateful. (I have also been mindful of not taking too much of Monica’s and Cam’s time or energy, and recognizing when they have expended both.) From the energy and empathy that I derived from reading about or meeting these people, I subsequently found I had energy, as well, to assist others–advising a young student on what working as an editor is like, sharing food with someone in my community who is under-nourished. Rickman, Kreuger, Hutchinson are examples I take not as impetus to do more than we can (as artists, writers, entrepreneurs, whatever. . . ). Instead, they’re reminders to shore up our own stores of empathy, so as to take care of ourselves, first, in order then, in part, to do what we can to support others. To tell the untold stories and unsung experience that surround us–and so to light the way ahead.