“This is interesting” she said.
The audiologist and I were looking at readouts from the last 30 days, during which time my new hearing aids were providing data about my hearing patterns. Our appointment was to determine whether or not my top-of-the-heap hearing aids were right for me, and if they were programmed in the best way possible for my particular—and fairly significant—hearing loss. For example: How much do I adjust the volume up or down from the pre-set levels? Do I use only the general setting, or some of the additional ones designed to compensate for different noise level environments? Things like that.
Those data I mentioned weren’t what grabbed her attention. What was of interest to her, and to me, was the graph that illustrated not so much my hearing patterns, as my listening patterns. The graph showed three different columns which I labeled: Column 1: Molly’s listening pattern in one-on-one conversations. Column 2: Molly’s listening pattern in a small group. And, Column 3: Molly’s listening pattern in a large group. According to this graph, no matter the setting, I speak about 24% of the time. Which means that, regardless of one person or 20, I am listening about 76% of the time. More of a listener than a talker, I didn’t really need those data to know that. Seeing that percentage simply confirmed what I already knew, having made a career and a life out of listening. As my audiologist commented, “No wonder being able to hear well is so important to you.”
As I see it, people and relationships are at the heart of the matter of this thing called life. That’s probably true for a whole lot of other people, too, and we all demonstrate that importance in a myriad of ways. Mine tends to be by listening. Somehow I seem to be equipped to provide a safe space for people to show up and feel seen and heard. Whether the context is professional or personal, skilled listening makes it safe for people to show up and name what is true for them, no matter how painful or scary or confusing or messy or wonderful or staggering or whatever-the-heck it might be. I don’t take much credit for my equipping. I think I arrived on the planet that way. What fell on my side of Life’s fence was to discover my gifts and strengths, and then to cultivate and offer those up to the world within my reach.That’s what falls on your side of Life’s fence, too.
What are our lives if not gifts to be given away? Some of us do that by listening, while others do it by leading, teaching, coaching, nurturing parenting gardening, creating, healing, singing, writing, warning, resisting, and about a million other ways. Whatever your gifts, the world needs them.
Life runs on a gift economy, and the currency is us.
Image: Pexels