Have you ever been asked this question? Has your mind wandered when someone was sharing their thoughts or story, only to be jarred back into the present by this question? It can be a bit embarrassing to discover our mind had wandered to our to-do list, memories, who’s constantly sending text messages right now, etc. It may be awkward to be in conversation and realize we had checked out, even for a moment, but imagine how the speaker feels. How long had you been checked out? Did you miss the most important part of the conversation? Will you recall any of the conversation five minutes from now? Studies have shown that we remember about half of what we hear. Half. Which half though? Is that what we want from our conversations? Is that what our leaders, loved ones and companions desire when they are sharing with us? Is that what we want of those we share our stories and thoughts with, to only get half of what we said? What did we miss, what did our listeners miss?
This has happened to many of us, some of us more than we would like to admit. To be outed for not listening is not only uncomfortable and embarrassing, but it also conveys a message: perhaps that we don’t care enough to be fully present in conversation.
Years ago, when I was a teenager, I decided I wanted to learn how to make eye contact with people. It was uncomfortable for a long time, and I wanted to be more attentive to those I was with, to let them know I cared. It was also in attempt to make myself appear more authoritative, I suppose, although at my young age I don’t think I knew it. My eye contact pendulum swung way to the other direction, to the point that I felt my eyes boring into the eyes of others as we communicated, and I feel that it became intimidating at some point, so much so that I had to relearn the art of eye contact. Over the years I have learned that some folks and cultures find that much eye contact disrespectful or uncomfortable, and that I needed to shift my gaze from time to time for their comfort and to be respectful. Confession: When I was laser-focused on making and maintaining eye contact, sometimes I was thinking of whether it was too much, should I shift my gaze, do they appreciate this much eye contact, boy am I uncomfortable, and so on. I was not listening to what was said. It wasn’t until a college psychology course taught me Active Listening that I realized eye contact was only a small part of the practice. I still make good eye contact but I try to eliminate distractions as much as I can so that I can focus on their words and body language. I suppose you could call it ’appropriate eye contact’ as opposed to too much eye contact.
A scenario that comes to mind is the types of “conversations” I had with my husband. I would walk by him or he would walk by me, and I would say something off the top of my head, only to later be disappointed he hadn’t recalled the comment. I felt hurt that he hadn’t listened to me. Through the years, though, I can reflect on times when he took in everything I said. What was different? It took a series of steps, starting with making a ‘date” to converse. “I need to talk with you”, I would say. He would agree and we would set a time. He would sit, I would sit, facing each other, eyeball to eyeball, ready to hear me. It didn’t always go well, whatever the topic, but the point was that he was ready to listen. I wasn’t dropping a bomb of bad news as he went to the coffeemaker or headed out to work. We were intentionally prepared to hear what was being said. I was happy to have learned that, and I have continued to practice it with my husband especially, and I’d like to think I have been able to do it with my kids as well. It’s funny though, I didn’t have to work so hard to listen this way with close friends or people I work with, but why, I cannot say.
The purpose of my blogs and podcasts is to normalize the dying and death conversation, and I think it is important to have the conversations while we are able. But, to actively listen to others, whether we are work, at school, at gatherings with friends or coworkers, allows a trust to be developed between both parties. It makes a person feel important and cared for, knowing that you are listening and hearing them.
Over the next few weeks, let’s look at listening: what it is, what is isn’t, how to do it, and how to do it better. There are many nuances we can catch when we listen with intent, attention, a desire to understand, and to display empathy. This type of listening is helpful in most encounters we have with people we care about, and we can miss a lot less of what we hear as well as have clearer understanding of what is being said when we apply the techniques of active listening. The Huffington Post referred to active listening as a ‘soft skill’. Let’s explore how we can benefit and grow through actively listening to others.
For now, read on to this insightful piece for which I can no longer find the author. It is something I saved in 2014. I found it important enough to save, so I will share it, but know that these are not my words. My apologies that I did not keep the reference.
“JUST LISTEN – “I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. And especially if it’s given from the heart. When people are talking, there’s no need to do anything but receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they’re saying. Care about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than understanding it. Most of us don’t value ourselves or our love enough to know this. It has taken me a long time to believe in the power of simply saying, “I’m so sorry,” when someone is in pain. And meaning it.
One of my patients told me that when she tried to tell her story people often interrupted to tell her that they once had something just like that happen to them. Subtly her pain became a story about themselves. Eventually she stopped talking to most people. It was just too lonely. We connect through listening. When we interrupt what someone is saying to let them know that we understand, we move the focus of attention to ourselves. When we listen, they know we care.
I have even learned to respond to someone crying by just listening. In the old days I used to reach for the tissues, until I realized that passing a person a tissue may be just another way to shut them down, to take them out of their experience of sadness. Now I just listen. When they have cried all they need to cry, they find me there with them.
This simple thing has not been that easy to learn. It certainly went against everything I had been taught since I was very young. I thought people listened only because they were too timid to speak or did not know the answer. A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well intentioned words.”