A Twig or a Threat

I was mowing the lawn on Saturday while it was 94 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I wanted to get it done fast and get inside the air-conditioned house. 

Little twigs were strewn across the lawn, the gift of my neighbor’s 50-foot elm tree and a little breeze that came through earlier in the week. I could have used that breeze in the 94-degree heat. I should probably have picked up all the twigs before mowing but opted to mulch them into the ground with the grass in order to get done faster. 

I made the turn around the edge of the patio and saw a squiggly twig about the width of a pencil and 12 inches long. I didn’t worry about it since the twig was nestled against the concrete. I’d only hit it with the wheel of the mower. 

Then the twig moved. Just a little. 

I stopped the mower to look closer. 

The twig wriggled again. 

The twig had two little black eyes. 

The twig stuck a tiny forked tongue out of its mouth. 

If you haven't figured it out, the twig was a snake. 

For any of you that suffer from ophidiophobia (an unnatural fear of snakes), remember how big I said the “twig” was. It was a tiny, harmless garter snake. Behind my house is a five-acre field where my neighbor breeds alpacas. I’m sure the snake slithered into the yard from the field. 

I got a broom handle from the shed, thinking I could pick up the snake and put it back over the fence. I’m definitely not a snake handler. I ended up herding the snake with gentle nudges from the handle until it crawled under the fence to a place of safety. At least safety from the lawn mower. 

I started up the mower again. I was two-thirds of the way done with the lawn and anxious to finish. But from that moment on, every twig I saw on the ground seemed to wriggle a little bit. I saw a snake in every twig, so I kept hesitating and second-guessing myself. In reality, I didn’t see another snake the rest of the day. 

While putting the mower away, I started thinking about how I’ve done the same thing with people. I see someone with a furrowed brow, then that person disagrees with what I’m saying and starts to argue against my point. The next time I see someone with a furrowed brow in a conversation, I immediately brace for an argument. Then I find out that the person wasn’t disagreeing with me but was concentrating on what I had to say. But I was emotionally geared up for an argument. 

I’ve tried to train myself to open myself to other options when I see a reaction that I could perceive as a threat. Is that person asking a question to put me on the spot or simply because they want clarity? Was that roll of the eyes a sign of disregard or a speck of dust that was bothering them? Did that person miss an appointment time because they’re lazy or was it just a misunderstanding? 

By the way, this happened to me this week, too. I had an appointment with someone who didn’t show up when I expected. Then I learned that we had talked about meeting, but I failed to send him the actual appointment, so it wasn’t on his calendar. Good thing I saw his tardiness as a misunderstanding rather than a disrespect. 

When I assume benign intent, I’m in a much better frame of mind to work through a problem, even if the other person disagrees with me. The next time you see that furrowed brow – or whatever your triggering behavior is – try to see a stick instead of a snake. Chances are it’s not as big a threat as you may think. 

 Mark Carpenter is a consultant, facilitator, coach, and co-author of the best-selling book "Master Storytelling: How to Turn Your Experiences Into Stories that Teach, Lead, and Inspire." www.master-storytelling.com