You Think You’re Listening to Her, But You’re Not.
Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules For Life: Rule #9: Assume that the Person You Are Listening to Might Know Something You Don’t
2 years ago I was conversating with a friend while we were eating pizza. I noticed that we weren’t actually conversating. She was talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was responding. She was explaining her living situation with her roommates and how she doesn’t feel compatible living with her friends. (We often think we can live with our friends, but most of the time that isn’t the case). I offered advice after advice and she didn’t really seem like she wanted advice. I didn’t read the situation well. Instead, she wanted to vent.
But that wasn’t all. I started talking about my personal experiences, trying to relate to her. I was the hero of our conversation. And I didn’t give her space to explain herself. I thought it would help her know I’ve been in a similar situation.
What a huge mistake.
At this point in the “conversation,” I know nothing about the people who she lives with, how she feels about herself and friends. Did she want to continue working things out with them? Who was at fault? What could possibly solve their conflicted mess?
I wasn’t listening.
Listening.
Listening seems easy at first glance, but it’s actually hard. Cause we all want to talk about ourselves, and our own experiences. We want to help others. We want to give advice. But WE put OURSELVES, in THEIR picture. We forget how powerful listening is. So why is it so important?
Jordan Peterson says that psychotherapy isn’t advice. Advice is actually naive and dangerous. Because the person who is “listening” assumes that they have higher intelligence. He tells a story about one of his clients (Miss S), who told him she thought she was raped. That itself is heavy. But she said that she recalled it 5 different times. The problem isn’t so clear cut as vague as it first was. Little did she know that she suffered from abuse during her childhood. She never got attention from her parents and siblings. Now, she would have a few drinks, but end up in sexual climax. She would wake up, not recalling a thing. She would take it out on men, by accusing them of raping her. Who was she?
On one hand, JP wanted to tell her she was right to justify her rape. That her sexual partners did not completely follow the legal action of consent. But on the other hand, he wanted to tell her she was a total mess. That she needs to wake up and learn from her mistakes. That she is someone who intentionally commits a crime to herself, but doesn’t pay the price.
When we realize that our perception, our lens, is only an amalgamation of our past, we soon realize how susceptible we are to being… biased. We think we are perfect, but our past is full of memories. Even memories we can’t recall. Our brains can’t store everything we experience. So it chooses important memories for us. Our memory storage is flawed.
“There is a mysterious arbitrariness about all of this. You don’t form a comprehensive, objective record. You can’t. You just don’t know enough. You just can’t perceive enough. You’re not objective, either. You’re alive. You’re subjective. You have vested interests — at least in yourself, at least usually. What exactly should be included in the story? Where exactly is the border between events?” -JP
So JP listened. And listened.
Someone who listens allows themselves to represent the crowd. Or talker. Someone who listens allows the other to vent. To maybe even solve their own problem by speaking out loud. Most of the time we know the answer, we are just afraid to face it alone. I’m talking about the speaker here. Someone who listens allows the speaker to look at their reflection.
Listening is the foundation of genuine conversation. Cutting someone off puts one at risk for not fully encapsulating and translating their thoughts to words. The other person might have experienced something you haven’t. Even though it feels like the same story you’ve experienced. You and the other can perceive the same event differently.
By listening, you and I are able to listen to ourselves too. We reflect on our own character by responding to new information provided by the speaker. In a way, both of you are able to broaden your experiences and heighten the conversation.
By listening, you allow yourself to fully provide your attention to someone. This itself is fulfilling and rewarding when you’ve finished a genuine conversation, knowing that there wasn’t a dull moment to spare.
By listening, we allow ourselves to trust each other, to create space both between and behind us, and bring us closer together. We allow a moment for the speaker to have their own space to talk to themselves, all while ingesting new information. Isn’t that a win-win for all of us?
Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t.
