(Lost) Art Of Listening

The (lost) art of listening.

We all think we’re good listeners most of the time.

But if we can only press pause and replay in slow motion at our daily interactions, we might find that we don’t actually listen. Not very well or deliberately at least.



We listen to respond.

We listen to ask.

We listen to say something.


We listen. Partially.

And the ironic yet most predictable thing about that is, if you tell someone they’ve been somewhat lacking in this department, it’s almost a guarantee that’s the last thing they’ll do.

So what’s a person to do?

How do you “make” someone listen to you saying they’re not listening? 


You don’t. 

You try your best to tell them how it is. Then you carry on. 


The right people will not have to be told to listen. At least not over and over.

The right people will listen to the hard stuff… especially being told they didn’t listen.



You Complete Me

I never did buy into the whole “you complete me” line.

Of course when Tom Cruise’s character said it, I sighed out loud. The notion is quite “romantic” – the possibility that you’ll find the missing pieces of yourself in someone else.

But something about it always seemed out of whack to me. It’s too much responsibility and pressure to put on someone else’s hands. I truly believe we cannot make anyone else complete. Or happy. We can do or says things that other people may feel happy about…but to presume we have the “power” to make someone happy is dangerous.

Some people say it’s simply semantics. It could very well be semantics. But to me, it’s a mindset I approach my relationships with.

We have the responsibility, ability, and the capability to “complete” ourselves. No need to wait for someone else.

It makes much more sense to me that way. It makes much more sense to me to be complete and happy, on my own. And know that I can be happy (if not happier) with someone or in a relationship.

The premise being, I’ve taken care of the basics from my end. That I’m bringing a (somewhat) complete whole to the table (or at the very least a work in progress). That in doing so I have a better chance of being a truly supportive partner.
Sometimes though we truly do feel like there’s a hole inside. What happens then? Are we doomed to wander the world alone, simply because we don’t feel whole just yet?
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