Most conversations are simply monologues delivered in the presence of a witness.
Margaret Millar1
Everybody has a story.
You have one. I have one. And we want someone to listen to our story. So we try to tell it—but nobody’s listening. They’re busy telling their own story.
I’m writing this as I sit in seat 8B on a two-hour flight from Portland to Ontario, California. Sometimes on a plane, I read; sometimes I work. Tonight, I’m observing. I’m surrounded by people who are all doing different things. I’m wondering about their stories.
Right next to me is 8A, sound asleep. I can’t even guess his story, because he’s just leaning against the window. But I still wonder.
Just ahead, 7A is probably in her late eighties. Through thick, black-framed glasses, she’s reading an article titled “Modern Techniques for Dating.” She’s been studying it for the past fifteen minutes. I’d love to know her story.
Behind me, across the aisle in 9C and 9D, are two sisters—probably in their late seventies. They are talking nonstop and totally amused with everything the other one says. I overhear their conversation:
“Why haven’t we taken off yet?”
“I don’t know—let me look out the window.”
“What do you see?”
“Oh, there’s another plane landing. I can see it way off in the distance. Or at least I see the lights.”
“Then it must be a plane.”
“Or maybe it’s a bird. Maybe it’s a bird with lights.”
And they start laughing so hard they snort. Then they laugh harder because they snorted.
We’ve been in the air for over an hour now. They’re still laughing at the things each other says. I’d love to know their story. If I were close enough to ask them, they’d probably be laughing too hard to tell it.
Directly across the aisle—8C—a late-twenties mom, is entertaining her two-year-old. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt, a red and white embroidered necktie, and a gray derby hat. Look up cute in the dictionary and his picture would probably be there. He’s busy with his electronic Etch A Sketch and loving the time with his mom. He has a story. It’s a short story, but it’s a story.
The last woman to board sits in 7C. Another elderly woman, she’s dressed in her traveling best. A red blazer, tan slacks, and gold jewelry complete the look, evidence that she was stylin’ when she was younger. She has a story. And she’s telling her story.
From the moment she sat down, she’s been talking to 7D—a midthirties woman who has the window seat. It’s a small plane (two seats on each side), so 7D is a captive audience. But 7D is listening. Actively listening.
I felt sorry for her at first, because 7C is telling her entire life story. She talked about her upbringing, her kids, her late husband, her career, and her journey as a teenager. She talked about where she lived and what she enjoyed throughout her life. 7D is asking questions, which prompts 7C to talk even more.
7C is talking nonstop. 7D is listening nonstop.
God bless 7D. She’s giving 7C a gift—the gift of listening. 7C will go home tonight feeling valued because a stranger took the time to care. 7C did 90 percent of the talking, but she’ll always remember what a good conversationalist 7D was.
As a practicing introvert, I don’t go out of my way to talk to people on airplanes. Usually, I’ve been talking all day in a seminar, so I want to rest. I’m learning how much it means to people when someone listens to their story. All I have to do is set it in motion, set aside my own agenda, and listen—and enjoy hearing a good story.
I want to know why an almost-ninety-year-old woman is reading about dating. I want to know what makes someone laugh at nothing until they can barely breathe. I want to know the journey of a little, tiny Etch A Sketch artist. I want to listen . . . and I want someone to listen to me.
Why We Want Someone to Listen
It’s frustrating when someone accuses us of something without hearing our side of the story. Our boss yells at us for coming in late, saying we should have had the decency to at least call and let them know. If they had asked what happened, we could have explained that we did call but their voice mailbox was full. But when those tough conversations begin with accusations and assumptions, we find it hard to communicate well.
People are starved to be listened to. We have many conversations, but true listening doesn’t happen very often. Constant conversation is like trying to survive on a junk food diet, while listening provides the balanced emotional nutrition that gives us life.
Here’s how the process breaks down:
Over the years, we’ve developed a culture of talkers instead of listeners. We’ve developed a collective mind-set that giving advice is more valuable to people than listening to them. If we want to help someone, we just tell them what they should do. Sounds helpful, right? They have a problem, and we have a solution. It’s a match made in heaven.
There’s a problem. Advice almost never solves problems. Listening does. This sounds counterintuitive, but it’s true in most cases. If someone gives advice, we don’t feel like listening. But if they listen to us, we feel like seeking their advice.
Think about the last time somebody gave you advice—or used facts and figures to convince you that your position was wrong and theirs was right. You probably didn’t say, “Wow! That’s so much better than my perspective. It’s obvious that my position is wrong, so I’ll immediately change my thinking and do exactly what you suggest.” No, you probably thought they were crazy or arrogant—and either argued with them or simply withdrew from the conversation.
That’s why we’re so hesitant to open the door when someone comes to sell us a magazine subscription, push their religion, or sell candy for a cause. The person at the door is there to convince. They might have practiced the right responses to make us think they’re listening, but their true motives tend to leak out.
When we want people to listen to us, our natural tendency is to talk more. After all, when we talk, it gives them something to listen to, right? But the exact opposite is true. The best way to get someone’s attention is to listen to them. People instinctively want to hear what someone has to say when that person has first expressed genuine interest in them.
So the key is to talk less, not more. The same letters make up the words listen and silent.
The Value of Silence
During my years as a college professor, students would often drop by my office to talk. Some had questions about assignments, while others were wondering about what courses to take the next semester.
Usually, those conversations morphed into life conversations. They were negotiating the real world away from their parents and trying to figure things out. They needed someone they trusted to bounce ideas around with.
I loved those conversations. They were one of the best parts of my job. I was also amazed at the impact those conversations had. Students would share their thoughts, their dreams, and their challenges. They would talk about . . . well, just stuff. I almost never had answers. I just had ears. I always felt inadequate, thinking I should have better advice—better things to say. I should have been able to draw deeply from my well of experience and wisdom, delivering pearls of insight that would blow them away. The well usually felt pretty dry.
So I just listened. Whenever possible, I would simply affirm something I had noticed about them that was an area of strength. Surprisingly, they often had no idea they had that strength. It simply never occurred to them. To me, it was a casual conversation. To them, it was a turning point.
People are starved to have someone listen to them. The act of listening tells them they have value when they don’t value themselves. If they don’t believe in themselves, they borrow our belief in them when we listen—until it becomes their own.
The more important a relationship is, the more valuable listening is. When two people in conflict keep talking “at” each other, they’re pouring fuel on an open flame. But when those same two people learn to listen to each other, the fire runs out of fuel and cools down.
Learning to Listen
Listening is a skill that anyone can learn. It’s not reserved for introverts or sensitive types. The noisiest of us can learn to listen if we’re intentional. We need to recognize two things:
Why We Don’t Listen
There are a number of common situations in which we find ourselves talking instead of listening:
When we find ourselves not listening, that should be a trigger for us to analyze what’s happening in the relationship. Becoming conscious of the underlying reason for our inattention is the first step in developing a solution.
How We Can Improve Our Listening
Most people develop a pattern of conversation that’s quite ineffective:
And the pattern spirals downward into ineffectiveness. People are talking, but no one is listening.
To improve our listening, we need to shift our focus away from ourselves and genuinely focus on the other person. That doesn’t mean we give up our needs and make the relationship all about them. It means we have regular periods when we temporarily set aside our agenda in order to look through their eyes. We’re not listening so we can think up ways to counter their position; we’re listening to simply see what they see. This can happen multiple times in a conversation. In fact, it becomes the pattern that is most effective for meaningful connection.
A healthy scenario is for one person to talk while the other person sets aside their own agenda and gives them 100 percent of their attention. When the conversation reverses, the same thing takes place.
“But what if they don’t cooperate? I can listen to them, but what if they don’t listen to me?”
That’s a real possibility. We can’t control what someone else does. We can only control the choices we make to stay focused, no matter what the other person does. Interestingly enough, if one person starts genuinely listening, that usually influences the other person.
Picture two people facing each other with both arms forward and pushing against each other’s open palms. As long as they keep pushing, tension keeps them standing. But if one person backs off, the other won’t have anything to push against and will fall forward if they keep pushing. It’s awkward to keep pushing when the other person isn’t pushing back. That’s what happens during a tough conversation. If both people are just talking, it keeps the tension going and the struggle continues. But when one person starts to genuinely listen, it takes the pressure off. When that happens, it’s tough for the other person to stay active in the conflict.
Proverbs says, “A gentle response defuses anger” (15:1). That sounds like a tough thing to do when we’re feeling strong emotion. But learning to handle tough conversations effectively involves doing things differently than we normally do. It means we make intentional choices instead of just reacting to things people do or say. It goes back to our definition of insanity: doing the same thing we’ve always done and expecting different results.
If we want new results in our communication, we need to approach conversations in new ways. Those new approaches might include the following:
“When you say that money is the problem, what does that look like?”
“Could you tell me more about that?”
“You say I don’t pay attention to your needs. Could you be more specific?”
“When you say you want better results from my work, what would better results look like to you?”
Tips for Tough Conversations
Listening is one of the simplest ways to break down barriers during tough conversations. We need humility to practice it, but it is one of the fastest ways to connect honestly when a relationship is more important than an issue.