Nonverbal Methods for Transmitting Empathy

Since I decided to stop speaking English several weeks ago as long as I'm in Israel except for professional purposes, I've discovered that some native speakers of English here don't even know the most basic Hebrew even after living here for years.

I've told all those I used to speak with in English that they can continue talking to me in English, but I'll answer them in Hebrew. This way we manage to communicate with each other though I try to use as easy expressions as possible in Hebrew. Some of them have even decided to start speaking Hebrew with me. I must be one of the few they speak Hebrew with on a regular basis.

But when it comes to those who know little or no Hebrew even passively, our communication becomes asymmetrical - I understand them in English, but they don't understand me in Hebrew. Since I don't want to change my decision so easily, I continue this practice in the meanwhile paying a certain price.

I don't miss our small talks in particular as their main purpose was phatic. I had to find nonverbal methods for transmitting empathy as I can't rely on language now. I've found several so far, and to my pleasant surprise, they even seem more effective than language for this purpose. The following are three of them, which I've also started applying in my communication with those who share a common language or languages with me.

Since I started learning, then practicing life coaching, the way I listen to my interlocutors seems to have improved significantly as I seem to have learned unconsciously the skill of the so-called active listening. Even though they know that I will answer them in Hebrew, some of them still seem to feel like doing a monolog to someone who listens to them actively as what counts for them is not what I say in reply but the very fact that I listen to them actively. This is a rather passive method of transmitting empathy.

There is even a more passive method, which is to be fully present with them before starting to listen to them. This skill seems even rarer than active listening. I first noticed it as the common denominator in most of the stories of encounters with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Since I read these stories a few years ago, I've been making a conscious effort to be fully present with my interlocutors even when they have a common language or languages with me. This skill becomes far more "visible" and important when the communication becomes nonverbal.

A more active method of transmitting empathy is touching their hands and shoulders or hugging them though I can only do this with male interlocutors. When I still relied mostly on language, I didn't realize how powerful touching and hugging can be. They can literally cross linguistic barriers.

Abstract Concepts vs. Concrete Objects

Recently I suddently recalled that Terence Wade, who authored what I (and many others) consider the best reference grammar of Russian entitled A Comprehensive Russian Grammar, also authored a less known but no less important reference for learners of Russian entitled Using Russian Vocabulary. I spent the past several weeks using this book, not to build but to check my Russian vocabulary. Our brain, or at least mine, isn't built for memorizing new words a priori from such a word list however excellent it is as this one.

I wasn't surprised to discover that my Russian vocabulary not only has much room for further enlargment but also is unevenly distributed. Every time I studied a new language, I always felt it easy to remember abstract concepts and difficult to remember concrete objects. Having checked my active Russian vocabulary using this book, I've seen clearly this uneven distribution of Russian words I've learned a posteriori through reading and listening.

This had always been an enigma for me, but this time I've understood why I've always been able to remember abstract concepts, especially in humanities, much more easily than concrete objects. I must always have felt intuitively that the universe is one single whole and it's only us humans who divide it into smaller parts and label them. Now I'm finally aware of this. I simply don't care how certain animals and plants, for example, are called generically. I care even less how specific pets are named privately.

A few years ago I started spending the last one hour before the end of Sabbath during the summer time, secluding myself in nature and contemplating with no language. I simply listen to the stillness of nature without labeling any concrete objects and verbalizing any abstract concepts in my mind.

Through my study of Hasidic masters and other non-Jewish mystics in both wriring and speech I've gradually come to experience one fundamental difference in the way abstract concepts are used by them and others. When I read books by those who (over)use abstract concepts without basing their use on direct experiences, their words sound dead to me and even repel me. But on the other hand, when some mystics use abstract concepts based on their direct spiritual experiences, their words sound fully alive to me and deeply penetrate my soul.

Neuroplasticity of Speaking a (New) Language

To my great joy, three of my English-speaking friends in Jerusalem have decided to take advantage of my decision not to speak English (except for professional purposes) as long as I'm in Israel and started to speak Hebrew with me though their Hebrew still has room for further improvement.

Two of them told me that it's a shame not to (be able to) speak Hebrew while living in Israel, which means continuing living in an English-speaking ghetto. The other of the three even flattered me by saying that my speaking Hebrew raises the spiritual vibe of the synagogue where both of us daven regularly.

I had a heated argument with one polyglot whose native language isn't English. She claimed that this decision of mine also means my refusal to help English speakers. I counter-argued that she and people like her prevent them from improving their proficiency in spoken Hebrew by immediately switching to English upon detecting lack of their fluency in Hebrew. This is like constantly helping small children who want to learn to walk by themselves. This otherwise bona fide help only hapmers their independence.

I must be one of the few people with whom these three friends of mine have a chance to try to speak Hebrew on a regular basis as many people don't allow them to continue or even start speaking Hebrew in Israel. This mentality of so many speakers of Hebrew is for me the mentality of the colonized.

While listening to these three people with a lot of patience and care, I'm reminded of the neuroplasticity of speaking a (new) language. Starting to speak a new language is to take out yourself from your mental comfort zone and treading a new neural path. There is no other way but to keep treading the same path repeatedly in order to become fluent in this new language.

What I did every time I learned a new language almost every year in my twenties rather instinctively was to pronounce new words, phrases and sentences in a new language again and again. I realize now that this way I must have rewritten my brain by exposing myself to the sounds of this new language. I also realize that this was an ideal way for me as my modality of learning a language is listening rather than reading.

Recently I've started reappplying this newly realized method of neuroplasticity in my yet another attempt to improve my spoken Russian, which has defied this and other methods I've devised in learning new languages quickly.

Russian is one of the language I studied very systematically. And my former teacher of Russian at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1989-1990 is the best language teacher I've ever had in my entire life and her textbook of Russian is the best textbook of any language I've used so far.

A few years after I started to learn Russian, I fell in love with it, but this love for the language didn't help me very much in improving my proficiency. A few years ago - about three decades after this first love for Russian - I fell in love with it again. I feel that the application of neuroplasticity, which is conscious this time, to my renewed intensive study of Russian is working much better.

The main reason for my decision to stop speaking English in Israel is that I can't stand hearing myself speaking English, which reminds me too much of something I really abhor. But when I hear myself speaking Russian, I even feel enchanted by my own sounds of what I consider the most beautiful language on this planet.