Listening to Others
It’s quite an intimate exchange. Not just listening, but hearing.
When we truly listen to someone speak, we purpose our five senses to engage with what they are saying. We fix our eyes on theirs, and study their expressions. We notice the veins in their neck when something excites them. We hear the inflection in their voice when something hits a nerve. We can taste their grief, even in our own tears, when their crying stops their breath.
But such an exchange is under attack.
Pride is casting lots for our attention.
Pride is confusing communication, rearranging words, and smearing the artistry that is connection.
Pride keeps us from listening. Pride distorts our hearing.
Pride is in the business of self-preservation and enabling rejection.
Pride is present, and it looks like it's winning.
What would it look like if we restored the art of active listening. Restored it to its rightful place -- between two or more people connecting. When someone is speaking, and our thoughts start to wander toward solutions, what if we paused.
What if we stayed present instead of searching for the words to say. What if we celebrated silence after listening, just as much as we do right responses?
What if we listened in such a way, that when they took a breath, we wouldn’t react. We would only have the breath to exhale with them. What if we shut off our assumptions, and sat in the discomfort of disagreement. What if we listened to create -- to create space for others to speak. To hear the beat behind fear, hope, or heartbreak. Would we notice which words are used because of pain? Which vocal strums point us to their hidden worries?
What would it look like? It would look like humility rising above pride's schemes. It would look like humility taking it's place back and restoring the delicate exchange of listening.