Recently, an old friend invited me over for a visit. We had not seen each other for some time, so it felt like a welcome opportunity to catch up over dinner and drinks. After dinner, one glass of wine led to another as we chatted well into the night. At one point the laughter shifted into a heaviness. Not on my part, but on the part of my friend. Through tears she shared the depth of her emotional struggles. When I attempted to respond I was silenced with being told that I did not understand. Instinctively words came to mind to argue otherwise. Instinctively, I chose to be silent. And to listen.
At that moment, I thought about what it means to listen. That it is less about anticipating words, and more about physical presence. It is something easily forgotten. I do not think it happens intentionally. The habit of listening is seriously compromised when we are unable to tap into the immediacy of each other’s physical presence. I suspect this is not entirely a casualty of Covid. Social media platforms have offered multiple tools to be in touch. The missing piece is the lack of immediacy that is inherently part of directly responding to another human being.
It was not easy to hear from someone who knows me well say that I was not listening. I showed up, right? Did that not count for something? Was that not enough as a token of caring? I sat for what seemed like forever in the company of my friend, trying to process the words. You are not hearing me. And no, I did not get it right away. But I think understanding kicked in with the feeling of being uncomfortable. How do you demonstrate that you actually hear what someone is trying to say? Is it eye contact? Body language?
Maybe there is no one right way of proving that you are paying attention. It is likely one of those intangibles. You simply know when you know. And you cannot know unless you are physically present. Not remotely. But fully present – mentally and physically. Most important of all, it is about the delicate balance between listening with your head, and hearing with your gut.
I wonder if being physically present is becoming a rare commodity. Or a lost art. In many ways we are wired to pay attention. Endless social media platforms scream for our attention. There is so much going on in the world that impacts a growing need to scan, stream and share. More than ever, paying attention has become time sensitive. Perhaps at the cost of the time taken to pay direct attention to each other
In the end, it may be less about what we say on a given platform, and more about taking the time to show up in person. To be available in some small way. To provide a significant response by the effort taken to notice what someone needs to say. To listen. To hear. And in so doing, knowingly or otherwise, we save each other.
You Heard Me
Your voice
tense with pain
words stuck
buried deep
injured and heavy
with longing
to be heard
to be held
with care
My voice soft
patiently waiting
to ease the weight
of your words
and listen
Release and breathe
cbienko
Photo by mododeolhar</stro
