Why listen
Perhaps a question we rarely ask ourselves, yet an important one nonetheless.
We learn to listen before we speak. When our parents tell us off, or cradle us as little children, we seldom respond — we can’t. Consequently, a dynamic and hierarchy emerge, cultivated by the balance between listening and speaking. School classes entail groups of thirty or so children sitting in silence as a teacher explains a concept or idea. When adults are speaking, we are taught to listen and not interrupt. Thus, it inevitably concludes that listening coincides, indefinitely, with respect. To those of you who attend church, it is, perhaps, unthinkable that one would speak while the Priest reads holy scripture or delivers the homily.
Yet simultaneously, we all crave to be heard. This shouldn’t be conflated with a desire to speak. I stress again — there is a difference between being heard and simply speaking. There are, for example, a great deal of shy, anxious, quiet individuals who have no desire to embark upon righteous monologues demanding an attentive audience. Sadly, I do not fall into this category.
I am sure you all have had your words fall on deaf ears. You open up a dialogue about your day at work with your spouse, yet the phone in their hand commands their attention more than your, perhaps, less interesting words. You’re hit with the ‘mhmm’, and a most terrible feeling of inadequacy sweeps across you. On occasion, you may choose to rectify this by highlighting the fact that they weren’t listening. More likely, you put your bag down and enter the sitting room in silence.
You see, listening intrinsically shows attention and care. Parents who don’t listen and engage in dialogue with their children are seen as neglectful. Yet once we surpass adolescence, this conception seems to disappear. It appears to me that the listen/speak dynamic is synergistic. The more one feels they are constantly unheard, the less they want to hear others — a self-perpetuating cycle of sorts.
This really matters though, because it is the necessity of humankind to listen — both on an individual level and on a broader one: in politics, and in general societal manner.
If you don’t listen to others, you cannot expect to be listened to. And if you do not expect to be listened to as an individual, then your voice, when succumbing to the mass of a crowd, becomes little more than an abstract idea — existing somewhere, yet nowhere definite.
In a world where it is so easy to choose a simple answer, to not pay attention to the very words leaving the mouth of the individual (no more or less important than yourself) in front of you, I suggest showing intrigue. Listen. Respond how you would want to be responded to. Yes, their promotion may be the least of your concerns on that day, but one day your highs may be met with the same dismay — with the same disregard that leaves you feeling apathetic and unimportant.
In a world with a hierarchy of importance, do not let the words of some take precedence over others. Do not disregard the words of your peers because those of the professor seem more important to your immediate position. For your peer’s immediate position could be drastically more important in that moment — lest you find yourself in that position.
In a world where yes or no are sufficient, choose to go beyond. If your taxi driver is telling you about himself or herself, don’t discount it because ‘you’ll never see them again.’ Because, in reality, most people you interact with, there is a likelihood of not seeing again.
Increasingly, it appears we treat those around us with a subtle contempt. They speak, but they don’t really speak. We listen, but we don’t really listen. If, then, even our closest relationships are being marred by our inability to grant time, respect, and reverence to the words of those we most love, how must we engage with a society at large who we do not want to hear — and who does not want to hear us?