“Mom.”
“Mom.”
“Mooooommmm.”
He tugged at her shirt to catch her attention, and held up his art work to show it to her. His face was beaming.
His mom looked at him, irritated. After all, he had disrupted her while she was in the middle of an intense chat on her phone, in the middle of voraciously typing something out. She shot one quick glance at him, gave him a fleeting, forced smile and went back to her phone.
I saw the look of dejection on his face as the piece of paper moved in slow motion in his hand, from under her nose to his chest. He must have been all of 4 years old.
He ambled around aimlessly in the café while his mom was oblivious of his whereabouts.
I, on the other hand, was engaging in one of my favorite pastimes. Having a cup of coffee, with a book to aid communion with my own thoughts old and new, with my phone shoved firmly out of reach somewhere in my bag.
I smiled and said hi as he came up to my table.
“What have you got there in your hand?” I asked, pointing to his artwork.
He sized me up, paused, and sheepishly handed me the paper.
“What have you drawn here? Look at all the colors you used! This is so lovely!” I asked with curiosity and interest, tinged with wonder at what he had actually drawn.
He walked me through his drawing: a series of concentric circles in different colors, his version of a rainbow, with clouds and rain.
As he clambered onto the chair next to me, we then spoke about his drawing, his dog, and everything else under the sun that make up a 4-year-old’s life.
And I heard him attentively, mindfully. Our eyes spoke, our ears heard each other out, I smiled often at him, and I resonated his joy.
“Sahil, it’s time to go,” his mom called out.
“Bye, Aunty,” he said, as I shook his hand, and he ran off.
I rested back in my chair as I thought back to the number of instances I had encountered just within this week which I had filed under “The Lost Art of Communication,” and sub-categorized under “Hey, Listen to Me!”
“I wanted to share the excitement of the big project I landed at work and while I was narrating it I could tell he wasn’t even listening because he was just reading something on the phone. When I asked ‘And then you know what happened?’ he didn’t even look up from his phone. I walked away and he didn’t even realize that I’d left the conversation midway.”
“I wanted to share my sadness with my parents. But they just jumped in with advice that wasn’t making sense. So I just shut myself up further. It is the most isolating experience when the ones you love don’t listen to understand.”
And how many times have I heard “Wives are nags” and “husbands just don’t listen?”
And then of course how can I forget that 80-year-old widowed lady who would come to see me in sessions, and would just talk about the mundane for an hour and leave? In the next session, she again spoke and left. Finally, at the start of the third session I asked her, “Aunty, are these sessions helping you?”
What she said next broke my heart.
“I have no one to talk to, my children are too busy in their own lives. At least talking to you helps ease my pain of isolation, because you listen to me.”
She felt validated because someone was listening. Her sessions stopped soon after, as she reached the realization she could live in the comfort of silences too.
With increasing frequency, I see “fragmented” relationships. The cracks are visible, and sometimes the chasms are so wide that bridging them often seems like a daunting task. And where it all starts is ineffective communication.
Few human experiences are more powerful than the yearning to be understood, to feel connected especially to people you care about, and who you expect care about you too. Being heard gives us a sense of being taken seriously, that what we feel or say matters and is acknowledged, and ultimately it adds to our sense of self.
Let me reiterate that. Being heard. It’s one of the two parts of communication. Speaking or saying is one. Hearing and listening are the other. Without both, it’s not communication. It’s ineffective, and sometimes, worse, it erodes relationships.
The hurt we feel when we are seemingly talking to a wall, or when our words and intentions for clarification and connection are dismissed causing more harm than we may be aware of.
And it is this that leads to a cascading effect of misunderstandings, judgments, assumptions, feeling isolated, followed by a whole lot of “he/she just doesn’t get me,” indifference and apathy, leading to a further breakdown of communication…and of course the relationship suffers.
So what’s the basic building block that can create a solid foundation for effective communication and effective relationships?
Listening is the secret ingredient in developing empathy.
That is what fortifies our connections and brings us closer to each other, because it conveys one simple message: I care. I care about you, about what you have to say, about how you feel. And even if I disagree with you, I will convey my disagreement assertively, respectfully and with compassion. Because, you matter to me. Us matters to me.
It involves stepping away from our own perspectives and opinions on what is being spoken about and completely opening ourselves to the experience of the other person. It’s about suspending formulating our reply while the other speaks, to be completely present; taking in every word, every non verbal gesture, sigh, inflection, pause, silence, and just being there, actively listening, not merely hearing.
Listening – actively, mindfully, heartfully; in other words opening up a lot more than just your ears —is like a shining beacon to the other person that you genuinely care about what they are saying and feeling. It builds a bond of understanding with the other person which in turn has the potential to transform relationships and open up possibilities.
There are many of us who struggle with deeply felt but unexpressed feelings. Listening without judgement creates a safe space for us. When someone listens well, our feelings morph into words, they find a voice, which when received with openness and love, can lead to a profound sense of being understood and validated, and strengthens our sense of self.
I see this in practice every day. I have people voice out their innermost thoughts and feelings, as I listen with my eyes, ears, and heart. They share accounts of their experiences, I ask questions, they clarify, I engage in empathic listening. Our experiences and our lives come to be defined in meaningful, insight-oriented dialogue. And in the process they begin to listen to themselves better which leads to an awareness of self they hadn’t discovered earlier.
I’m going to leave you with some questions to ponder on. Listen to your thoughts and feelings that take the shape of answers. What do they reveal about you and about your connections with others? And what does that mean in terms of changing a few things around?
Who is the best listener you know? What makes that person a good listener? (Not interrupting when you’re talking? Asking relevant, interested questions? Acknowledging what you’ve said? Not pressed for time? Appears patient? Makes good eye contact? Appears calm?) How do you feel when you are with that person? What can you learn from that person that would make you a better listener?
What do you hesitate to talk to your loved one about? Why? What happens to those held back thoughts and feelings? What are the effects of that withholding for you? For the relationship?
If you are talking to someone and they clearly are not listening to you, how does that make you feel? What do you assume it means about the situation and the people involved? What will this lead to?
If on the other hand, people know you are listening to them, how do you think that makes them feel? What will they infer about your interaction and connection? What will this lead to?
The next time something is really distressing you, notice how you feel about wanting to talk with someone. Does something hold you back? What do you worry about ? What would it take for you to share your innermost self with someone? And if you do share your feelings with someone, what happens?
So, hey, are you listening to me? Because, I am.