The other day, a video popped up on Instagram talking about a Japanese technique called “Ma.” While it wasn’t complex or particularly new, something about the way it was explained made me stop and think more than usual, like that moment when something clicks quietly but stays with you.
The concept is simple, yet so rarely seen in how we relate to each other: it’s about creating space before reacting, about not speaking automatically when something triggers inside you, about not responding impulsively as we almost always do without realising it.
And while I was watching it, I wasn’t thinking about it from a theoretical or professional perspective, but from my own life. But just now, I haven’t spoken to Palo, a good friend, for a few days. Nothing serious or dramatic has happened; we simply disagree on something, and we’ve each stuck to our own point of view. But what I do see is that there wasn’t that space, that moment of pausing before reacting. And when that’s missing, even without a major conflict, distance is created.
I also thought about Sergi, my friend from Castelldefels. At the time, I was fired up, but looking back now with more perspective, I clearly see that there was a lack of communication and, above all, a lack of pause: that moment of calming down before continuing to speak was missing, because often it’s not what happens, but what you decide to respond to that changes everything.
And the same thing has happened to me with other partners and friends; in the end, it’s not a one-off or isolated incident, it’s a pattern that repeats itself in different relationships and at different times in my life. And although it’s true that in recent months, with everything I’ve learned from coaching, I’ve changed my communication style quite a bit, I also see that some things remain automatic, especially when something affects me or triggers me.
Because that’s another thing: when we’re triggered, we think we’re communicating, but in reality, we’re reacting, and from that state, it’s very difficult for the other person to receive what we want to say in the way we’d like, because our tone, our energy, and our intention are no longer focused on connecting, but on defending.
And that’s where this Japanese concept gave me that “aha” moment, not because it’s something magical or revolutionary, but because of something very basic that we do quite badly here: not knowing when to stop.
Here in Spain, we interrupt, we talk over each other, we want to say our point before the other person finishes, we need to be heard right away, we need to be right or at least make our point clear, and we do all this without realising that we’re filling the space with bad manners.
The other day I saw it very clearly while I was with three friends in Getafe, all more or less the same age, and the conversation was a constant stream of interruptions, overlapping sentences, a desire to talk without really listening, and at that moment, I thought that this is completely normal for us, that we don’t even question it.
But when you look at it from the outside, it’s not communication, it’s noise.
And from that noise come misunderstandings, minor tensions, distances that you don’t quite know where they come from, but that keep accumulating.
The funny thing is, this isn’t something I haven’t heard before; my coaching training has taught me, and continues to teach me, to be quiet, to listen, to give space. But being told something is one thing, and actually doing it is another. It becomes automatic. Because a habit of so many years takes time to change. It’s not magic: you’ve already been taught the theory; you’re going to do it.
Apparently, in Japan, they learn this from a young age; it’s not a technique they discover as adults, but something integrated into their way of relating to others. Here, the opposite happens: the automatic response is to react, interrupt, and answer without filtering.
And all of this has made me rethink something very simple, but which I think changes things much more than it seems: that we don’t always have to be heard in that moment, that we don’t always have to be right, that we don’t always have to say what we think the moment we feel it.
Sometimes, the wisest thing isn’t to speak, but to remain silent.
And, seeing what’s happened to me these past few days, it’s pretty clear to me that many things don’t break because of what happens, but because of how we react when it happens.
And I don’t know if things would be different, but I do have the feeling that if there had been a little more silence, a little more pause, maybe I’d be talking to Paloma or Sergi right now.
I don’t know for sure, but I do know that this has made me think about future relationships.
And sometimes, with that, something different can begin.
