I’m one of those people who often finds herself getting talked at. People talk at me because I listen to them. I can’t help it. I’m fascinated by people. I want details. I want gore. I want to know what your aunt said at those Mayan ruins to provoke her second husband to leave her for good and fly home alone from their Mexican honeymoon. This penchant of mine, I suppose, might be why I’m a writer. Listening is one of those skills we writers need. We spend our days listening, observing, ruminating, storing things away.
But this kind of one-sided listening can only go so far. No matter how entertaining someone is, if he or she does all the talking and no listening, the listener starts to wither inside. When people fully dominate conversations, no matter how riveting their stories, our energy is sapped. People who are unable to listen are lonely because they don’t truly know anyone (nor can they know much about the world or even life itself.) We’re wary of these non-listening talkers. We cross the street to avoid them. The talkers don’t realize that when they’re doing all the talking, we diminish in their presence. We slump in our chairs and feel uninteresting and depleted. Think of when people laugh at your jokes and you keep getting funnier and more animated. But when people stare blankly at you, the jokes die. It’s the same principle.
So we must learn to listen. I believe listening is a great gift we can give each other.
Listening to people makes them feel energized. The act of listening encourages people to release what’s buried deep inside. In essence, when we listen fully to people—focused eye contact, nodding, really listening intently—we are cheering them on to express their true selves, to come to an understanding of who they really are. When we are eagerly listened to, we unfold and expand, creating more of ourselves as we talk. Ideas and revelations start to grow within us and come alive. Listening is a powerful and creative force. I remember once telling a group of friends a story about something that happened to me in my 20s on a Greek island—something vaguely supernatural that I’ve still never really been able to explain. As I told the story, I noticed their faces changing. They’d set down their wine glasses and their eyes were wide. “Why haven’t you ever written about this?” They were incredulous. My first book about my life as a traveller had just been published. I hadn’t even thought to write about this Greek adventure until I told them the story that night.
Talking and listening to each other is good training for writing. When we tell stories we see firsthand what people find compelling, which parts of the story have the most energy. Sometimes when I tell a story, people surprise me by being curious about something that I hadn’t thought was especially significant. They press me for more details. This is useful later when I write the story. Listening is also a way writers can help each other find new directions. “You should write about that!” is something writers need to say to each other often.
As I go through this life, I notice some people are lousy listeners. For some reason it always surprises me. A real conversation is like an alternating current that recharges both parties. A one-way current eventually burns out whatever is on the receiving end. (Actually, I’m not sure, electronically, if that really happens, but it certainly happens in the situation of chatterboxes who can’t shut up. On the receiving end of these people’s onslaught, we the listeners are fried.)
In this new year I encourage you to avoid people who don’t listen and instead, seek out friends who you can’t wait to have an inspiring two-way, thought-provoking, mind-expanding conversation with, where you give each other the gift of listening.
Then transform what you learned into writing!
But this kind of one-sided listening can only go so far. No matter how entertaining someone is, if he or she does all the talking and no listening, the listener starts to wither inside. When people fully dominate conversations, no matter how riveting their stories, our energy is sapped. People who are unable to listen are lonely because they don’t truly know anyone (nor can they know much about the world or even life itself.) We’re wary of these non-listening talkers. We cross the street to avoid them. The talkers don’t realize that when they’re doing all the talking, we diminish in their presence. We slump in our chairs and feel uninteresting and depleted. Think of when people laugh at your jokes and you keep getting funnier and more animated. But when people stare blankly at you, the jokes die. It’s the same principle.
So we must learn to listen. I believe listening is a great gift we can give each other.
Listening to people makes them feel energized. The act of listening encourages people to release what’s buried deep inside. In essence, when we listen fully to people—focused eye contact, nodding, really listening intently—we are cheering them on to express their true selves, to come to an understanding of who they really are. When we are eagerly listened to, we unfold and expand, creating more of ourselves as we talk. Ideas and revelations start to grow within us and come alive. Listening is a powerful and creative force. I remember once telling a group of friends a story about something that happened to me in my 20s on a Greek island—something vaguely supernatural that I’ve still never really been able to explain. As I told the story, I noticed their faces changing. They’d set down their wine glasses and their eyes were wide. “Why haven’t you ever written about this?” They were incredulous. My first book about my life as a traveller had just been published. I hadn’t even thought to write about this Greek adventure until I told them the story that night.
Talking and listening to each other is good training for writing. When we tell stories we see firsthand what people find compelling, which parts of the story have the most energy. Sometimes when I tell a story, people surprise me by being curious about something that I hadn’t thought was especially significant. They press me for more details. This is useful later when I write the story. Listening is also a way writers can help each other find new directions. “You should write about that!” is something writers need to say to each other often.
As I go through this life, I notice some people are lousy listeners. For some reason it always surprises me. A real conversation is like an alternating current that recharges both parties. A one-way current eventually burns out whatever is on the receiving end. (Actually, I’m not sure, electronically, if that really happens, but it certainly happens in the situation of chatterboxes who can’t shut up. On the receiving end of these people’s onslaught, we the listeners are fried.)
In this new year I encourage you to avoid people who don’t listen and instead, seek out friends who you can’t wait to have an inspiring two-way, thought-provoking, mind-expanding conversation with, where you give each other the gift of listening.
Then transform what you learned into writing!
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