“Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. Think how the friends that really listen to us are the ones we move toward, and we want to sit in their radius as though it did us good, like ultraviolet rays. This is the reason: …When we listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that we never get tired of each other. We are constantly being re-created.” ~On The Fine Art of Listening, by Brenda Ueland
I ‘m continually amazed at the willingness of hearts t0 spill out all over complete strangers. Here are a few examples from my life:
I was at a party one night and I ended up talking with this guy. After about maybe two minutes of the usual greeting conversation, he looked up at me, and I knew it was that moment. He started to tell me his deepest fears and secrets he had literally told nobody (to that point). He told me that he was engaged to be married and he didn’t want to marry his fiance. He said he felt trapped, but the wedding announcements had already been sent out. I sat in awe and listened. He had come with a wingman who was also his best friend, so I asked, “So have you told him?” pointing to his BFF. I was surprised by his answer: “No. He won’t listen. He will just try to convince me to either marry her or break up with her.”
My next experience happened on New Years. I was standing with a girl I had met earlier that night, and we were waiting to ride a roller coaster. We were making small-talk, and pretty much out of the blue she took a deep breath, clenched her fists, shook out her hands, and then, even in that moment, changed. She started to tell her life story. It was not pretty. I could tell that once she started, she needed to just let it all out—and she did. I was astonished by the horrors she had been through. She looked up at me once she stopped talking, and said, “I can’t believe I just told you all that. I am sorry. I guess I just needed to share it.” I found out later that she hadn’t told anyone her story in years.
You would think that by having these experiences–and they happen often–in my life, I would get used to the idea of total strangers pouring out their deepest secrets and heartache to me. I never do.
Working as a Shadow (family therapist) at ANASAZI gives me the opportunity to meet teens and their parents in moments of chaos, heartache, and crisis. They feel angry, hurt, disappointed, betrayed, and a myriad of other emotions. But then there is that moment when the anger turns to sadness, hurt become helpless, disappointment turns to relief, betrayal changes to curiosity, and fear becomes hope.
I absolutely love that moment.
From the moment they step into my office–whether they are 12 or 89–I anticipate that moment. That moment is the moment when they are done complaining, yelling, crying, running, making excuses (or whatever other manner of expelling pain they might use), and they have nothing left but hope. It is so visceral, so powerful.
I consider those moments–blanket steppings with parents and first impressions with my YoungWalkers–sacred. Witnessing fists of anger dissolve into puddles of tears is truly remarkable. If I ever get stressed out or feel the burden of my job, all it takes is being a part of that moment, and I remember why I do what I do!
