Learning to Listen

It’s 10:21 pm, August 26, 2009. I’ve been at this new school, living in this new dorm with these new people, a member of this new swim team, in this new city for one week now – alone. Everything is different, and not in a good way. My bed is uncomfortable, my roommate is about twenty times more outgoing than I am, the CoOp didn’t have any of my books, and I got lost on the way to almost all of my classes today. I call my mom, knowing she will be able to help me. Just her soothing voice is all I need, someone to listen to the tidal wave of my emotions until they ebb into tiny whitecaps of disappointment at what my first week of college has turned into. She answers the phone with her vivacious, “hello?” and I immediately smile, feeling better already. I pour out my pain to her so quickly that I stumble on my words, tears eventually forcing their way into my voice much to my embarrassment. I stop to catch my breath and wait for her to speak. Instead, she simply asks me to go on, so I do. After about an hour of crying and talking and not stopping to let my mother get a word in, I stop for good and ask her for advice. My mom, my sage, intelligent, zen-like mom only gives me a couple of sentences. She knows that she has done most of her part – listening. And, she has, as Dass would put it, “listened from the heart” (How Can I Help, 114) enough to offer me this nugget I will probably never forget: “Spin, I know things aren’t going well right now and homesickness can be horrible, but I want you to try one thing for me: take the phrase ‘I can’t’ out of your vocabulary. ‘I can’t find my classes, I can’t survive this swim program, I can’t deal with my roommate’ – change your phrasing and your attitude will change too.” My mom had, with her incredible ability to listen, “hear[d] into my pain” and, as a result, “we [met] together inside the confusion” of my life at the moment (How Can I Help, 114). I will never forget that phone conversation, nor the art of listening that my mom demonstrated. She knew exactly what to do and exactly what to say to make me feel better. Not many people can claim that when it comes to me. (A phone call with my amazing listener of a mom completely changed my perspective on college. image courtesy of: http://www.thedailygreen.com/cm/thedailygreen/images/Dq/young-girl-cell-phone-lg.jpg).

On the flip side, I can understand the frustration that lack of listening can cause. Just tonight after having a tough workout and in need of someone to vent to, I sought out my friend Francis to talk with. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. A couple of understanding head nods, perhaps a sympathetic “I’m so sorry” or two would have done the trick, probably. Instead, my outpouring of anger at our swim coach, frustration at my injured body, and general tearful demeanor was met with something that definitely did not make me feel better – my friend didn’t listen. Sure, she comforted me physically with a hug and sat with me as I talked. But, our talk began to bring up her own insecurities regarding swimming and her abilty, and soon I found myself feeling confused – all of a sudden she was sharing her own problems. The only issue: it didn’t feel like a genuine heart-to-heart. It felt like the two of us were completely missing each other like ships in the night, each one pouring out our problems, neither of us listening in the least. I imagine she began to feel, as Dass describes, that she was “trying to pull [me] out of quicksand and felt [herself] suddenly start to sink” (How Can I Help, 114). Needless to say, I left that talk feeling even worse than when I began it, and I am fairly sure Francis felt the same.

Dass writes about listening as a cleansing, almost spiritual experience when done correctly. I am not sure, honestly, if I have ever had a moment with anyone where “the needs of others are what brings [me] to a state of sharp concentration” (How Can I Help, 100). I would like to study the chapters in this book dedicated to listening more, I would like to learn more about what it takes to be a good listener, to really examine if I am as good of a listener as I think I am and, also importantly and evident in the case of my friend Francis and I – figure out if I am doing anything that inhibits others in their abilities to listen to me.(What other methods can I explore of cleansing my mind in order to be the best listener I can be? Perhaps meditation would work! image courtesy of:http://api.ning.com/files/8qnCuqQ5crGqSDHpn5N-CvXXtWkBS3SSyk2WzgWrHA6zHJojucEJt-DyUKu*ubZhj1A6DUy6YvwSDVGSUesGpdb88Be1-Oko/meditate.jpg). Hopefully I will listen to someone in such a way that I can help them the same way my mom helped me my first week of college. For, as Dass says, “How much it can mean when we accept the [listening] invitation and hear the world anew” (How Can I Help, 116).

This clip from the TV show Grey's Anatomy exemplifies a pretty blatant instance of two people talking, talking, talking and not listening to each other in the least; a problem my friend Francis and I definitely suffered from tonight... (video courtesy of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7bLqFvBY9A).