The Social Impact of Good Listening

“I would love to have a leader that knows how to listen, that knows how to be with.” – Luis Duarte, Co-founder and CEO of Amoofy

In this week’s podcast episode, Jerry talks with Luis Duarte, Co-founder and CEO of Amoofy, who recounts how, after he began working on his social impact fund, he realized he was repeating the same “oppressive” behaviors as a father, as a member of the community, as an educator, as an investor that he experienced in past situations. In his new venture, he was creating a perfect and measured environment, yet something wasn’t right. It took listening to his colleagues to realize that what he was creating was not about the relationships between people. What followed for him was a big shift in how he and his firm related to those they had invested in, and how he showed up in his life. The big lesson: sometimes there’s nothing to do but to listen.

Who are the ones in your life that really listen to you? The ones who make you feel heard? 

I am grateful for every ear that’s been there to hear me process at various moments in my life: when things were turbulent, transitioning, frustrating, or happening all at once. A good ear is a priceless gift, and good listening is a healing art form we’re all capable of mastering—within ourselves and for each other.

Listening well isn’t always easy, nor are we always good at it. We often default to transactional communication vs. relational. We perhaps are only 30% listening. Or, we become attached to the stories and feelings we hear and get triggered in our own ways depending on the content. Or, we hear what someone is saying and then take on their stuff like it’s ours to solve. It can be hard to feel all of their feelings and then feel our own feelings in reaction to their feelings and know what to do with it all. There are many ways in which being a good listener goes awry.

When our listening is closed off, we’re entering into a “non-versation” instead of a conversation. Our stuff gets in the way of the speaker’s voice, trampling that sensitive space of receiving-listening and shutting folks down to some degree in the process. I’m sure we’ve all felt this at one time or another or been on the receiving end of this. It’s a not-great feeling as a speaker: there you are in the depths of recounting what’s up for you to a (supposedly) rapt audience of one, and then comes an interruption, interjection, a quick solution, pointed question, or recounting how you’re wrong to feel or think that way, that usurps your space and your voice.

It’s a true feat for us humans to be a good ear to each other. True listening is generous. It’s attuned to both our listener and ourselves. True listening requires the listener to have the inner strength to be present enough for the speaker that they feel seen, heard, and free to share in that un-cramped space. So few people know how to truly listen. It’s hard to hear the rough stuff of someone’s experience if our own stuff gets agitated and activated. If we can’t be generous, our stuff gets in the way and we end up not listening, which can feel pretty bad for the person who needs a big ear.

Listening involves putting ourselves and our own interests aside for a bit. It involves getting curious about the other person as if we could step onto the map of their reality for a moment to see what they see, feel what they feel, and understand how things are oriented and structured from their place in space. All that would require us, as listeners, to let go of any presumption that the way of our own map of the world is the only map of reality. When we listen, we’re sitting at the edge of uncharted territory—that of the other person’s experience—despite how similar it may feel to us as their story draws parallels with our own. When we really listen: we don’t interject with what we assume or think or know about what they are saying. Instead, we assume we don’t know anything. We get curious.

As life comes at us fast and furiously, the trick to slowing down through the rough spots is being able to be with what’s happening and all the accompanying feelings, even if they are uncomfortable. Being alone with our thoughts and feelings can make us feel bottled up, which can keep us feeling tense and perhaps unclear. It can keep us from being able to move forward until we sort things out for ourselves. Having a big ear helps. In those moments, it helps to know we’re not alone, to have someone to listen, someone to bear witness to how hard, scary, sad, joyful, or maddening things have been.

Slowing down to ask and listen is a potent offering. Just by being present enough, brave enough, and compassionate enough to reach out and get curious about someone else, we give them the gift of being witnessed, seen, and heard in a way that validates their experience and their humanness. As Jerry notes in this episode, listening creates a sense of belonging. 

How can we be that patient, spacious, and giving for each other? How can we develop our good ears? One tool is to ask open, honest questions—questions that we don’t already have the answers to (or expectations of what the right answer should be). This is one that if used often enough becomes second nature to you. The other tool is to listen more—in other words, be silent. When the person has completed their thoughts, then ask another good, open question. Here in this space, without rushing to fix, we give people a chance to hear themselves, and their own inner stirrings.

(For more on generative listening, check out this episode on the topic.)

“How are you?” is one of the simplest questions to ask of each other. Yet, how often do you ask that of friends, colleagues, your partner, your children; and how often do you sit back and listen, truly hearing all that they have to say?

Listening requires an open silence, free from criticism, defense, or a closed-off withdrawal. So much happens when we hold space for that kind of silence, both for the listener and interpersonally in the space between us.

And for those of us being truly listened to, when given the space to process we hear ourselves in the silence of a good listener, allowing things to become congruent in our body-mind-heart, as if all the thoughts and reams of feelings—named, unnamed, and unnamable—congeal into more clarity or calm. We can see more of what is happening within, around, and for us as we hear our own articulations. Ultimately, by being listened to, we feel more connected to ourselves.