Stirring Point

For much of my life, I’ve been a poor listener. I wasn’t actively ignoring the thoughts of others, but rarely did my ideas take a back seat to their words. If I did allow someone else to lead the conversation, it was only to momentarily gather my thoughts before attempting to drive home a point. Listening to the thoughts of another is not a matter of simply sitting quietly while they present their side of the dialogue. As an old adage states, “listening and waiting for our turn to talk are not the same thing.”

Like many people, I’m guilty of waiting for my turn to talk. But why? What is it about our ego-driven selves that makes us believe our thoughts are more important than the ideas of those with whom we are engaging? Even with only a cursory understanding of a subject, many of us morph into ad hoc teachers, brimming at the chance to deliver our monologues to what we perceive as famished ears. And while we wait, the voice of the speaker hardly reaches us, devaluing the currency of their thought with its delivery.

Listening: what a gift to be given and received from others. We all understand the pain of not being heard, as well as the wrenching feeling of being ignored. And while many of us may play the role of the concerned fellow, how often are we really present and engaged with the idea of another? How often do we listen with compassion? How likely is it for us to take in the thoughts of others while we put our thoughts aside? Dialogue is, of course, a conversant exchange, and being a good listener doesn’t require a vow of silence. Rather, a good listener patiently hears out the idea of another with genuine interest, removing the protective walls around their own beliefs and allowing the potential for vulnerability within the discussion. It allows the speaker to feel supported in the airing of their idea and the listener to show genuine consideration for what is being said. 

More importantly, it’s an opportunity for us to corral the wild nature of our egos. Many times, I’ve stood on the edge of another’s ideas, perched to offer advice or a half-plumbed analysis of the topic before the speaker ever has a chance to finish their sentence. I’ve interrupted others mid-thought with statements like “that’s because” or “you should try.” My ego in these moments has determined a deficiency in their thinking and feels compelled to grab their thought and lead it to my imagined promise land. Sitting on the other side of this behavior is frustrating and demoralizing. The incessant suggestions of others, half-baked and often illiberal, drive home how unflattering half-hearted listening can be. Yet, many of us continue this pattern of behavior and we excuse our actions through any means of justification we concoct. What is it about the ego that requires all this attention? Control—the demand to exercise some sense of control.

For the last 8 months, I’ve tried desperately to be a good listener, with mixed results to date. During my travels in North and East Africa, as well as Pakistan, I entered most conversations with a “tell me” attitude. I probed others for clarity, encouraged garrulous elaboration, pried for facts, and sourced everyone within arm’s reach to help me understand the more enigmatic details of each culture. 

Rounding the new year, I sat with a blank page before me, searching for a phrase that would help me develop my most ignored muscle, and wrote:

                       “I’m a listener now.”

Like a smoker saying, “I don’t smoke,” once they’ve quit, embodiment is key. I’m not merely working toward something that will one day manifest, nor is this merely an attempt that tacitly offers a way out when I stumble. And while one may falter along the path of honing a skill, the road is not lost. The effort is consistent and the practice is daily. 

To truly listen is to hear the thoughts of others with compassion, not indifference. Whether we agree or disagree is of meager importance. Listening is an opportunity to divorce ourselves from our dogmas and to assume that we can and should change our minds when we’re presented with new information. We all know this intellectually, yet we celebrate the seekers that embody this behavior, as we recognize how rare it actually is. But even more, listening is an act of empathy and social grace, lubricating the rusty tracks of human interaction. It allows the ego to hand over a bit of momentary control, and any opportunity to do this offers us a closer glimpse of reality.

How well do you listen? Are you quick to jump to conclusions? How do you respond when someone derails you from your ideological track? When you hear ideas you disagree with, how clearly do you listen to them, hear them out and allow them to air? Or do you bite back at a partner or the newscaster, certain your reaction is justified? Do you begin formulating your argument against the thoughts of others before the idea is complete? I do—and have done this for most of my life.

The world is selling us bullshit day-in and day-out, and with enough exposure to it, our minds become discerning and numb. This is socially fair and evolutionarily understandable. But when I allow my ego to override the value of another’s voice when it’s their turn to speak, I’m the one peddling my own brand of bullshit. We can do better. I will do better.