Auscultation

When I say I strive to listen raptly, I have no idea how hard this will be to put into practice, nor how enlightening.  It’s not just down in writing as one of my intentions for the year 2015; it’s one of the key messages communicated at a leadership conference I attend last month.  A colleague and I decide to apply our listening skills wholeheartedly, asking our clients what keeps them up at night.  A week or so later I’m startled by the realization of just how much we all live in our own little worlds, thinking in good faith we understand what our clients want, or our families and significant others need, never realizing how far off the mark our arrow lands, how tilted toward our own agendas and anxieties our actions lean.

The people I approach say things like “I’m worried my new boss will not understand what I do,” and “I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep up with the demand if this new concept goes viral.”  These concerns are so intrinsically human, yet not even anywhere on the list of work we regularly deliver for this client.  Later I share my dismay with another; I can’t believe how much energy we spend in the wrong places. Especially when it’s so simple to get some guidance; it seems all we need to do is ask, and really listen to the reply.

The statistics are crazy; when people talk to us we hear only 25 – 50% of what they say.   That’s a lot of time spent forming your response so you’re ready for your turn,  trying to conceal the cold sweat breaking out as you wonder how you’ll ever solve the problem being shared with you, or worse yet, daydreaming about what you’ll be doing this weekend.  Sadly, our attention spans are short, even when we’re engaged in conversations we want to be part of. But when we don’t listen, we not only miss the words, we miss the spirit of the message.

The filters we wear when interacting with the world are cleaved to us. It’s nearly impossible to hear the words of another and not apply them to our own vulnerabilities, insecurities or perceived imperfections. Even when the conversation couldn’t be farther from being about us, we can somehow find a place for ourselves within it. This behavior prevents us from really understanding all the other is trying to convey. Conscious effort is required to check the ego we all possess, and think instead of how very real fears and insecurities plague each of us.  They afflict the speaker, placing in his mouth the words he voices; upon his body the mannerisms he displays while uttering them.

When we absolve ourselves of any role in the situation being described we are suddenly free to take in every nuance.  We’re able to consider what human emotions could be behind what’s being said:  A whole new understanding is revealed. What was once doomed for evanescence now has a real shot at retention.

What’s most amazing is the power I’m finding in these situations.  Coming at a conversation from the position of objective third party means this:  It’s not all about me.  While I imagine they do, many of the insecurities bleating within me never make it to the surface.  Maybe it’s because everyone else is too busy worrying about themselves, or maybe it’s because I’ve blown them way out of proportion. And if I can truly make it all about the other person I free myself to create stronger connections, greater loyalty with my clients and deeper intimacy in my personal relationships.

Listening is about creating capacity.  To do it raptly means pushing ourselves to the side to make the space needed to be immersed in someone else. Where will you find the room?