I was privileged recently to listen to a friend who was struggling through her emotions after finding out that her son had been sneaking out of the house. Why would I say that is a privilege? Because I consider it a moment of Providence when one person is able to connect to another through shared experience. As my friend told me the reason for her tears, I could feel several things - 1. the audible "thud" of my innermost parts when reminded of something not yet healed and 2. the specific and personal music of my own empathy from not just imagining what she must be feeling, but actually knowing it. This is usually where I start arguing with myself: "just listen...that's what she needs right now"; "Ooh! ooh! I know this one. I have something I can tell her"; "Shhhh - listen to her"; "but I really want to help". I would like to say that I am able to let these two unruly voices combine to make a great decision about how to be a good listener. This time, I hope I did okay. I don't know.
It's a conversation I would love to have over a table with some great food and drink: "what makes someone a good listener?"
Is it just listening? Anyone who knows me will attest to the truth that I can go on forever, because I tend to work through my world by thinking out-loud. So, if you're going to be a "good listener" for me, you'd better get your drink refilled 'cause we're going to be here awhile! I mean, it's great to have someone focused on you while you "let it all out". But is listening all there is to being a good listener? Sometimes I can see the tell-tale signs that I've taxed my listener's attention span, and I don't really blame them. Then, I feel regret for having brought my problems out in the open. The experts tell husbands, "sometimes your wife just needs you to listen. You don't have to fix everything!" But, often this approach just doesn't feel like enough. Problems need solutions, don't they?
What about giving advice? Its a show of concern and helpfulness, right? Especially, as I said earlier, if you have gone through a similar experience and truly have something to offer. I've had friends share great ideas that I never would have thought of without that other perspective, or comforting reassurance that I'm not the only one. And,at times I have been told by others that I said "just the right thing" to help them through their difficulty. Too many times, though, I walk away from listening opportunities and I know that I've said too much. It's one species of "conversational regret" that leaves me horrified at myself. You know what I'm talking about (and I hope you haven't been on the receiving end of this from me, but if you have, I'm so sorry) - it's when you are trying to pour your heart out about something, and at your first breath the listener says "oh my gosh, that same thing happened to me!" and then hijacks the whole conversation to tell you about it. You never get to finish sharing your pain, because you were derailed by the "helpful advice-giver". No, this isn't right either.
How about strategic questioning? I learned one time that everyone has the solution to their own difficulties, and they just need help bringing it out. I was attracted to that idea, because in the course of the training, I realized that what makes me a poor listener is that I tend to think I know what is best for others - and I absolutely don't. I was both humbled and liberated by this revelation. So, I have been on a mission to ask people better questions to help them bring out their own solutions. I really like this, but sometimes it backfires. Some people can feel like they are being interrogated by too many questions. Or they can become frustrated because the questions just confuse them even more. So, this listening strategy calls for some balance and ability to know when to back off. Some solutions just don't come easy...and some things in life just have to be gone through.
So, what do you think? What makes you feel listened to? How do you offer support by truly listening to another? I would love to get your input to this question...
Sunday, June 5, 2011
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