I’ve had an epiphany. One I thought worth sharing.

It’s about listening.

Really listening.

It happened a few weeks ago, and since then I’ve been testing the waters just to see if what I’d noticed could really be true.

Let me be clear. I’m a trained and qualified coach (with every day still a school day, of course), and listening is my job, and others tell me I’m fairly good at it.  That aside, my extraversion leads me to want to listen to others because that’s where I get my energy, my recharge, my positivity. And I know that as a coach I have a responsibility to sometimes help my client to get results – perhaps when they come to me with a work, performance-related issue, or there’s a deadline or timescale involved. I can’t remain silent for the whole of our session.

But I wouldn’t be honest with myself, or with you, if I didn’t admit that sometimes, listening is hard. I know I have to focus more when a client is sharing a really sad tale; and I can occasionally drift off into a moment where I wonder how I might have done it differently. Talking to other coaches, I sense this is a challenge we all face, and for the most part we accept it and try to not let it interfere with the work we do with our clients. Being aware of my tendencies, getting back on track and re-focusing on my clients super-quick are skills as a coach that I’ve picked up pretty quickly. It’s consciously competent territory.

But a few weeks ago I gave in to listening in a way I don’t think I’ve ever done before.

Someone was talking about their favourite subject – themselves. With not much of a thought to asking how I was doing, or being particularly interested in my response to the only question they thought they might ask me, they did rattle on rather, and I was starting to feel a little disgruntled, because my absolute joy in life is to have marvellous conversations with people where we bounce back and forth, variously telling, listening, asking, responding (and when the rapport is really wonderful, even interrupting each other and it feeling right). This wasn’t a coach/client situation, so perhaps I could be forgiven for feeling a little miffed that the conversation wasn’t as two-way as I would have liked it.

Yet in that consciously competent moment of thinking all this, a wave of understanding came over me. Give in to it Christine, simply listen, and see what happens.

And in that moment, I truly began to listen. I gave in to their experience, to the minutiae of the blow-by-blow account they wanted to share; I listened and got wrapped up in what they were saying. I listened not just with my head but also with all my heart. And yes, while I might have hoped for more of a conversensation than it actually was, I couldn’t help but be impressed with the pleasure I got out of our interaction.

I found myself being able to ask questions that I really wanted to know the answers to . . . to be lost in my own flow . . . to feeling energised, rather than drained, by their largely self-focused talk. And I’ve been practising this newfound listening technique ever since, taking it into any sort of listening opportunity I’ve since found myself in.

Google “quotes about listening” and you’ll get over 63 million results. Clearly something that people other than me have mulled over.  I share with you one that I really like: