THE ART OF LISTENING

"One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another has to say." Bryant H. McGill

One of the most important things I learned in law school, law practice, and mediation training was the importance of active listening. Active listening involves listening with all your senses — fully concentrating on what is being said and working on understanding the message of the speaker. Listening is not merely hearing. Hearing is passive. Frequently, when we are “hearing” someone, we are not giving what they say our full attention. We are already thinking about what we want to say.

Listeners need to be patient, allowing the other person time to explore their thoughts and feelings out loud, and not jumping in with questions or comments whenever there is a moment of silence. Listeners also need to pay heed to the non-verbal cues the speaker gives off. Avoiding eye contact, fidgeting, and playing with their hair can demonstrate that a speaker is reluctant, lying, or otherwise obfuscating the true meaning behind the words they speak.

Listening is a learned skill and takes time and practice to master. Larry King once said: “I remind myself every morning: Nothing I say this day will teach me anything. So if I am going to learn, I must do it by listening.” Wise words. Today’s poem is a bit about that.

A COMEDIAN’S PRAYER

I think my favorite comedian was Robin Williams.
He would go off wildly —
like a balloon discharging air
jetting wildly around the room.

When critic Gene Shalit asked him in 1993:
”Can you tell me, biographically, your whole life?”
In seconds, speaking at the speed of an auctioneer on speed,
Robin did just that —
beginning with his days of improv,
his troubles in junior college,
and his training at Julliard,
then segueing into
his roles in “Mork & Mindy” and “Mrs. Doubtfire.”

Shalit was stunned by Robin’s incredibly quick and thorough recitation.
He wanted to know if Robin had ever told this story before.
Robin self-consciously said: “No one’s ever asked.”

”No one’s ever asked.” Can you imagine that?
Today, his simple statement seems a foreshadow
of the tragedy that was to come — the suicide
of his tortured but gentle genius in 2014.

He left behind hundreds of hours of brilliance,
some funny,
some smutty but funny smutty,
some deeply thought and felt —

”I went to rehab in wine country, just to keep my options open.”

”Do you think Adam said to Eve, ‘Back up, I don’t know how big this gets’?”

”Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.
Be kind. Always.”

That last one sounds like a cry for help to me — a prayer;
it’s too bad no one listened;
like it’s too bad no one ever asked.
Perhaps, if someone had,
things would’ve turned out differently,
but here we are.