Listening: A Reflection

Is it possible to listen selflessly? During my first month of work at my new volunteer placement, I witnessed someone who did. The man who came in that morning was a practiced victim, even if a well-deserving one. His answers to my colleague's questions were peppered with tearful anecdotes and self-pitying asides. "All my friends have abandoned me," he wailed at one point. Every muscle in my body retaliated with a collective clench. "Give me a break," jeered my mind's voice. But my colleague's facial expression remained soft, even as the fellow continued to wax poetic on a theme of Woe Is Me.

Never have I seen myself as a particularly thoughtful listener. I'm constantly fighting the urge to speak, to have a voice, to make my point and my mark on a conversation. Rarely has wholehearted listening been an act of surrender I've wanted to make (somewhat ironic for a lifelong musician, no?). But my colleague has unwittingly offered me inspiration and a challenge.

What will it take for me to change? Patience? Compassion? Humility? Some combination of the three? And what will it cost? Am I willing to let down my guard and allow another person's experiences to permeate my own? Call it trite, call it kindergarten, but for me, it's one of the hardest things I'll ever do.