The Art of Listening

*This story contains details of child abuse

“If you are someone who always speaks first, challenge yourself to let others talk before you do. Try to be last instead.”

Three weeks into the eight-week mindfulness course, the facilitator made this suggestion to our group of about forty participants. She offered this as a new protocol for answering her queries after a frustrated individual pointed out a phenomenon that occurred every time we came together: it was always the same handful of people who responded to her questions.

“Some of us would like to respond, but we are more introverted and need time to think about your questions to formulate our answers. The same people seem to always quickly respond. And then, before those of us who are slower or less assertive can participate, you move on to your next question,” the individual explained to the facilitator.

During the eight weeks, the facilitator guided us through a variety of mindfulness and meditation practices. Then we broke into groups of four and took turns talking about our experiences. We did this three or four times during each weekly session. We also brought our chairs into one large circle at the beginning and the end of the class. In this arrangement, the instructor went over each week’s practices and asked related questions.

The participant’s observation and the facilitator’s resulting suggestion had the potential to be perceived as insulting by those it referred to. However, it made a noticeable difference. The next time the instructor asked a question to the group, not only was there a long pause before anyone replied, the responses came from people who had not spoken to the group up to that point. And by the end of the course, we learned how it significantly affected at least one woman.

At our last meeting, sitting in the big circle, the instructor asked us to go around the circle in order and talk about anything we had learned or any personal insights or challenges we had noticed over the eight weeks.

“I was one of the people that always immediately responded to the instructor’s questions,” a woman sitting three-fourths of the way around the circle said. “It was very hard for me to hold back, but I did it. I also did it when we were in our small groups. Instead of being the first person to talk about myself or respond with my own thoughts to what someone shared, I waited until others spoke. I started doing this at work too. I love my job, but my workplace has been a hostile environment for me because I haven’t been getting along with my co-workers.”

Tears pooled in her eyes now as she spoke. “I stopped being the first person to talk in meetings or when we gathered socially around someone’s desk. I did what we were taught here: to listen mindfully to the person sitting or standing in front of me. And you know what? My relationships at work have improved. It’s like I’m seeing and hearing my co-workers for the first time. I’ve known some of them for many years, but now I’m getting to know who they really are. It seems like such a small thing, yet it was really hard for me. It has made a difference in my life.”

Several years ago a friend started sharing stories with me about her history of childhood abuse. I frequently stumbled with how to respond to her traumatic experiences. One evening at dinner her father wouldn’t allow her to be excused after she told him she felt ill. She then vomited onto her plate of food; her father made her eat it. Regrettably, I was too overwhelmed by my own reaction and emotions of her horrifying story to give her the comfort of a loving friend that she needed.

In her book, Re-Creating a Life: Learning How to Tell Our Most Life-Giving Story, Diane M. Millis, PhD states, “We benefit from the accompaniment of committed listeners who help us to see both aspects of our story and ourselves we may otherwise miss.”

We have all been in situations of not being heard as well as being unable to hear another person’s story. In the years since my friend shared her stories with me, I’ve thought about her strength and resiliency, her generosity and compassion despite her upbringing, and her anguish over how to be all those beautiful things and more within her family of origin, with the people who had profoundly hurt her. I hope someday I can find a way to tell her this.

The woman in the mindfulness class who learned how to be a better listener finished her soliloquy by pondering why she had always felt compelled to speak first and dominate conversations. She wondered aloud if it stemmed from early family dynamics of needing to care for and be in charge of others, to be the leader.

Our group listened intently as she shared her story.