Do you think you’re a good listener? Come on, keep it real! Be really honest with yourself. Okay, so now that you have an answer in your head, consider this: how might the people you spend the most time with answer that question about you? You know, your co-workers, your friends, your family, your significant other, your children . . . how would they answer? Would their answer be drastically different from yours?
I’ve always thought of myself as a good listener, but recently decided to reexamine the question for myself.
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So what makes a good listener? Is it the process of waiting quietly until it’s your turn to talk? Is it the ability to recall with detail what was listened to? Is it the ability to piece together many bits over time to show a broader comprehension? Is it all of these or is it something else entirely?
I can’t say with certainty that listening is any one of these more than the other. I do feel that it’s an art and a very active and intelligent process. Let me share a couple of recent experiences that really helped refine this for me.
Enter the Listener
I recently had a series of conversations with a friend going through a tough emotional time. She was really struggling with a couple of serious personal situations and really needed a friendly ear. The series of conversations took place over a couple weeks and during each conversation, I would "listen" and offer my advice and reactions to what she said. Most of what I said was kind of repetitive, ultimately boiling down to this bit of advice: "Focus on you. Don’t let the way someone else treats you determine your self worth."
Now all in all, I felt this was pretty good advice. It was affirming to her and seemed appropriate. But, had I approached this situation in the right way? Is there really a "right" way? I felt like I listened well and shared the best of what I had to offer, but despite that positive feeling, my thoughts drifted back a year or so when I had an entirely different experience with another friend. Thinking of that previous encounter led me to question whether or not I had done a good job listening in this more recent situation.
The two experiences were like opposite sides of the listening coin. The experience from a year earlier placed me on the other side of the table. Instead of being the listener, I was the one being listened to . . . i.e. the listenee 
.
Enter the Listenee
I went through a divorce in January of 2008. As divorces go, this one would register as mild on the divorce-o-meter , whereas some friends of mine have hit the three mile island mark. The higher your divorce registers on that scale, the lower your life expectancy! It’s unfortunate how much negativity people will direct at one another when things don’t work out as planned. Fortunately, our divorce exhibited many of the great qualities our marriage enjoyed: civility, respect, love and unselfishness. Despite being a drama free process, it still hit me really hard.
My former wife and I were married for nine years and have a daughter together. She was my best friend and ending our marriage put me into a state of depression. It felt like the closest person in the world to me had just died. I leaned on close friends and family for support and had one experience which was especially memorable.
A friend and I enjoyed having lunch together and would often go to this Indian buffet. We always enjoyed each others company and usually ate way too much food! Sometimes I would talk about the divorce and what I was going through emotionally. Since we were at a buffet, I had plenty of time to really express myself and as I did, an interesting thing would regularly occur.
Picture this . . . I’m pouring my heart out as I’m devouring some chicken tikka masala and a medley of vegetables. I’d setup this moment (maybe unconsciously) in the conversation where a response from my friend seemed most appropriate and he would do the most interesting thing.
Right in that moment where it would seem almost anyone else would offer some advice, give a suggestion, share a related experience or even an expletive . . . something, he responded in a way that was unexpected and unique. He would just sit there with me, quietly in that moment, listening. I mean really listening. Aside from the acknowledgements that he was hearing what I said, he rarely responded. Occasionally he would ask a question that would require me to dig a little deeper into a particular thought or emotion, but for the most part, he sat there attentively listening. I was immediately aware of how different this felt. At the time, I could only characterize it as noteworthy. It took some time and reflection to understand that I was experiencing the art of listening.
He sat there with me, even during those "awkward moments of silence". The importance of those moments is so clear now. I was forced (more accurately, I was passively encouraged) to be in that moment and really deal with the emotion I was feeling. He made it easy for me to sit there with my feelings, without having to worry about keeping pace with a conversation or being distracted by some other subject on the stream of consciousness. If felt like someone pushed a really big pause button. I was given the space & time to process and reflect so that the personal growth that needed to happen, could begin to occur naturally. I couldn’t run from it or cover it up with negative rationalizations. I had to just be. It was powerful.
The Contrast
So now I have described both sides of this coin. When I was the listener, I felt compelled to offer my friend some advice. I honestly don’t know if that was the best thing to do, but I couldn’t help myself. It was instinct . . . I just wanted to do whatever I could to help. More accurately, I wanted to solve the problem.
When I was the listenee , I benefited from the company of a friend who wasn’t compelled to offer advice, but rather to facilitate me solving my own problems, at my own pace.
It’s hard to know if these two situations should have unfolded any differently, but sometimes people need to discover a truth in their own time and in their own way. When we give someone the answers, they’re less likely to learn the lesson. In situations involving intense emotions, people just aren’t ready for the information, even if it’s the exact information they need. It’s just like middle school. Those kids who cheated off your paper may have passed the test, but they didn’t really learn what they needed to learn.
I feel that the art of listening is something we are losing as a society. Everything is so fast paced. We are taught to be focused on the outcome, so most people just try to skip to the end. We lose sight of the process, the journey. Ultimately this social conditioning influences how we relate to one another as well. We want to solve other people’s problems; find the answer and wrap it up in a neat little digestible packet. Plus we want it to fit into the fifteen minute window we have scheduled for our morning mocha, so the plan for the day doesn’t get screwed up.
We have a hard time being. We have a hard time listening. Don’t be afraid to share the uncomfortable silence with someone.
"Always remember that seclusion is the price of greatness. Walk in silence; go quietly; develop spirituality. We should not allow noise and sensory activities to ruin the antennae of our attention, because we are listening for the footsteps of God to come into our temples."
- Paramahansa Yogananda
Indian Yogi and Guru
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Oooooo wow,
This part was the jump!
“… He made it easy for me to sit there with my feelings, without having to worry about keeping pace with a conversation or being distracted by some other subject on the stream of consciousness. I had to just be. It was powerful.”
Your friend must be a confident man; it’s so easy to cheapen a person’s healing process. instead of close listening, dissing your ex-partner or pumping your up with raining adulation;
you spell that moment over chicken tikka very well and i wonder, is your friend single? lol,
Keep up this awesome site, and the quotes at the end are just fabulous,
Malena
Malena, thank you very much for your feedback. You definitely hit the nail on the head. I’m glad you like the quotes. I run across so many cool ones and it’s great when they relate to the article I’m writing.
You’re right, my friend is pretty confident and married :-)
Well, don’t quote me on this but . . . oops! Come to think of it, if I am responding to this then I am already on record. So what I mean is it was high school which was about 70 years ago for me, give or take a decade or two. I read a book by Jewish philosopher and theologian Martin Buber called “I And Thou.” The book had a profound impact on my life at the time. This is the part I am fuzzy about. I seem to recall that the background for the book was that Buber, who was a trained spiritual couselor, was contacted by a distressed friend. Buber said all of the right things, his friend sounded better and he concluded the conversation feeling like his friend was on the right track. The next day he found out his friend had committed suicide. The masterpiece of writing that followed invokes the principle of not objectifying the other. The other person is not a “you” as in me and “you.” But rather the other person is another “I”. However Buber being the mystic that he is does not use the term “I” for the other; he uses the term “Thou.” This has the connotation that in the other “I”, the “I” that is like me but not like me, is the Divine. To truly listen and be with someone is to be close to God. I am not doing justice to this great work but I thought about it after all of these years because of your excellent description of how to really “be with” some one and listen to them as opposed to trying to give them all the right advice. It is a holy moment to listen without judgment, without agenda, without inserting yourself into the conversation. To reverence the other person is even more than listening to them as you would want to be listened to. It is allowing them to recreate themselves anew.
Dan, thank you for sharing this. Isn’t it amazing how something you see, read, hear or smell can trigger such vivid memories from long ago?
Wow! Thank you Geuka and Dan for sharing such powerful insights and reflections. You both have been two of my greatest spiritual teachers. I sure miss my pastor and friend! They just don’t make ‘em like Dan Wilson anymore! ;-)
Mattice, this is a blog not a place for you to make unfounded and scurrilous comments about your former pastor. I don’t care if you are the best community organizer I know of (on your side of the Mason-Dixon line) you need to reign in your tongue. Mary and I miss you very much. There is plenty of room for trouble makers like you up here in Massachusetts.