More Than Listening Well
A black & white photo of a number of spotlights with yellow text on the photo.
For many years I’ve repeatedly extolled the virtue, the skill, and the affirmative character trait that is listening well.
What I’ve meant is listening to the totality of the person, not just their words, but how they’re saying those particular words. What emotion is their inflection or pacing relaying to you. What is their body communicating along with the words that they’re speaking?
I stand by my standard that to listen well is a super power.
The last seven months have been some of the most difficult of my life. I don’t say this lightly - as someone who has had a life marked dramatically by more than the usual ups and downs, this year so far, has been a crucible.
And, I’ve been listening in a way that I hadn’t previously.
It’s amazing the difference between what you think you know and what experience shows you that you actually know. There is a component to listening well that I have been missing, and it’s patterns.
People, all people, are more than a single interaction or a difficult conversation. What you glean from relationships takes time, and is an amalgamation of everything that person has communicated to you. A person may give you data in a single conversation, but not the substance of who they are. That knowing requires listening and re-listening; revealing and revelation.
What I have learned so far in this Year of Living Stressfully, is that even people you love will surprise you in sometimes terrible ways.
Every person alive is writing their own story - we all live inside our own heads, and are the heroes of our own narrative.
Being forced to recognize that someone isn’t looking for understanding, nor are they looking to understand you, is a knock-back moment. They’re communicating the story they’ve written for themselves and it suits them just fine - regardless of how factually accurate or even how truthful that narrative is. We can only know that story because they’ve shared it with us in differing ways over a period of time. There’s a pattern. Or multiple patterns.
There are patterns of behavior.
They are not responsible. Not for anything - their own actions, not their own emotions, perhaps even their own wellbeing.
There are language patterns.
A person might use specific words, in a way that is meant to be undercutting or even cruel. When you point it out to them, they consistently insist that it’s you who are sensitive, and not them being unkind.
There are emotional patterns.
How this person is willing to speak to you. How they are willing to treat you. How it may differ depending on what they require in that moment.
In my Year of Living in Red Flags, I >finally< understand that that some people need to hold tightly to their tragic storylines—not because they enjoy the pain, but because the story has become familiar. It explains the world. It protects them from what change might demand.
And no matter how carefully we choose our words, how much we do, or how fiercely we might love them, or offer understanding, we cannot rewrite that story from the wings. We cannot break a pattern that does not belong to us.
Only they can do that.
The painful gift of listening—really listening—over time is that eventually, you stop hearing isolated words and begin recognizing the pattern(s) beneath them. And once you hear the pattern, you understand: better communication can reveal it, but it cannot break it for them.
LB Adams is the CEO of Practical Dramatics, LLC and is a contributor to Forbes and Entrepreneur. A keynote speaker known for her theatre-based teaching style, she helps organizations communicate better, one conversation at a time.