Wholehearted Listening

January 2nd, 2023

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I would be remiss today if I didn’t start this sermon by defining some terms.

When I talk about “listening” today, I’m not talking about something that necessarily includes our ears. I mean “listening” as the act of intentionally receiving communication. This includes uses like “I saw the warning sign, but I didn’t listen.” Or, “I’m listening for the still, small spirit to guide me,” or “I slept in because I was listening to my body’s needs.” It’s a kind of listening that includes situations like receiving a text that a friend has had a hard day, and replying, “I’m here, I’m listening.” We are all capable of listening, regardless of our actual sense of hearing, and furthermore being able to hear doesn’t automatically make us good at listening.

While we’re at it, I’ll define what I mean by “wholehearted.” I think this word made it into my vernacular due to the works of Brené Brown, who is a social researcher and one of the preeminent voices regarding the impact that shame has on our lives. Her framework of wholeheartedness revolves around, quote,

“The capacity to engage in our lives with authenticity, cultivate courage and compassion, and embrace the imperfections of who we really are.”

For me personally, I tend to respond to somatic frameworks, which means I tend to locate feelings and ideas in my body and build them out from there. This makes “wholehearted” a powerful word for me, because I know what wholeheartedness feels like, here [gesture: hands against chest]. I can apply the concept to actions like listening by floating situations through my mind and noticing when they are connected to that heart-full sensation.

So we have wholehearted, here [gesture], and listening, the act of intentionally receiving communication. Communication is also not as simple as it seems.

It’s such a core human function, and yet, the more we learn, the more we discover about how complex communication really is. It’s complex in every layer, from the physics to the philosophy of it, but what I really want to bring up today is how communication is interpersonally complicated. You see, communicating is all about passing information from one party to another, and we do that using symbols.

Words are symbols, gestures are symbols, and those symbols are useful because they have a meaning attached to them. So when we communicate, we’re trying to get the meaning behind our symbols into another person’s skull with as little data loss (or confusion) as possible.

This is where is gets perplexing. Picture this. Imagine person A is writing a letter to person B. Person A, against all odds, is so meticulous and creative that they chose exactly the right words to frame their ideas and seals the envelope on the most perfect letter ever written. A job well done, correct?

Well, no, we have only accomplished half of the task. Because person B still has to receive the letter, read the letter, and interpret it in all the same ways that person A intended it to be interpreted. Even the slightest variation in interpretation, whether from differences in dialect or life experience, results in some amount of data loss.

The meaning changes.

The slight mismatch between intended meaning and interpreted meaning is present in every single conversation that takes place between human beings. As galling as it is to think about, you can never say anything and know that your meaning was clear, and you can never hear anything and know for sure what was meant. The only way to guarantee that you’re correct is to approach all communications with a measure of uncertainty. Only by accepting we don’t know, do we begin to know.

When it comes to listening to one another, there are a number of pitfalls that can get in the way. The first, as you can infer from the last part of this discussion, is assuming clarity. The second is also a slippery monster of a concept. In professional circles, it’s usually called transference.

The closest thing to transference in everyday language is probably “projection.”

Essentially it’s where the person you’re with reminds you of your sister-in-law, or your neighbor, or the kid who sat in front of you in fifth grade, and you subconsciously treat that person differently because of the relationship you have with the person you’re reminded of.

Transference happens to everybody; it’s a natural part of the human psychological structure to recognize patterns and use them to inform our actions and reactions. It can be tricky, though, because if that kid who sat in front of you in fifth grade used to bully you, then your reactions to a person who reminds you of her might default to the defensive. Your lens of interpretation has become toned by the hostility of a dynamic which is no longer present. Your nervous system might even prevent you from exploring the questions you would usually ask, because it associates this interaction with a dangerous person and therefore perceives danger.

In order to truly listen to someone, we have to be open to asking a lot of deep questions about the true meaning of their words, and we have to be willing to be wrong. Neither of these is the state of mind most conducive to surviving a threat, so it’s extremely difficult to listen well while in a threatened state.

Transference can work the other way too, motivating us to special levels of compassion. If we are subconsciously reminded of someone we love, then we are likely to be inspired to interpret the other’s communication through a lens of familiarity. This can also happen even if the person doesn’t particularly remind us of someone, but if the situation does.

Say you’re listening to a neighbor describe their struggles with an ailing spouse. It might remind you of what you went through when your own spouse was sick. Your heart might really go out to this neighbor. This ability to relate can create a very special connection of comfort. However, you might also be reflexively filling in their story with details from your own experience, or you might find yourself assuming that what was helpful to you then would be helpful to your neighbor now. This has the potential to be less helpful.

So if transference is such a normal occurrence, what can we hope to do about it?

Well, the good news is that a little awareness goes a long way. If you’re able to get into the practice of saying, “ah, that friend reminds me of my aunt,” it gives you a little bit of distance from the association. It can give you the spaciousness to notice if your inner reactions are being distorted by that dynamic, and that spaciousness might free you up to go back to asking questions, to curiosity.

Now yet another thing that serves as a barrier to wholehearted listening is perhaps the hardest to work with. That barrier is fear.

There are all sorts of ways that fear prevents us from listening. And sometimes, that fear is very warranted and understandable. I am afraid to hear speeches from transphobic politicians because I’m afraid of how angry and sad it will make me. My friend is not willing to listen to her ex-partner who treated her poorly, because she’s afraid of it drawing her back into old emotional patterns. It’s okay to set a boundary around not listening to someone if you are not trying to sustain a conscientious relationship with them.

But when we do want to be in relationship with others, we have something of an obligation to listen well to each other. And sometimes, that means facing our fears.

Here are some reasons why we might feel resistance to listening to each other. I should mention that I have at some time experienced every one of the fears on this list, so if they hit close to home, know that you are not alone.

• I am afraid that I won’t be heard when it’s my turn to share.

• I am afraid that I will get bored.

• I am afraid that things are going to change.

• I am afraid that I will lost track of my own understanding of the situation.

• I am afraid that I’ll be proven wrong.

• I am afraid that I will have a strong emotional reaction which will cause discomfort to me or others.

• I am afraid that others will have a strong emotional reaction and I feel responsible for keeping the peace.

• I am afraid of setting boundaries if this conversation goes in an undesirable direction.

Many of these fears are about control. And it’s true - an uncomfortable element of deep listening is the need to release control: control over what is said, control over the outcome, even control over the conversation’s pace and length. To release control, we have to practice listening with less ego, less attachment.

As UUs we believe in every person’s inherent worth and dignity, and sometimes the biggest challenge of that belief is to include ourselves. To truly accept that our own worth is inherent, we must accept that no interaction with another person can be a threat to that worth. Letting go of control does not put our dignity at risk. Finding out we are wrong can’t possible damage our standing as humans.

When we stop fearing these existential ideas about ourselves, we find the means to escape from shame. And when we escape shame, we get access to wholeheartedness. There is no greater sense of freedom, and no greater truth of dignity, than to connect with others from a place of humble dignity and unshakeable centeredness.

The feeling of wholehearted listening is embodied - it supports the deeper breath, it pulls us to lean in, it clarifies the gaze. It’s a beautiful feeling, on both the giving and receiving ends.

The hardest part for me to accept is that this feeling is not always going to be accessible. I can aspire to it, practice it, use it as a guide, but some days I will not be able to reach it. What matters most, when wholeheartedness is inaccessible, is that we don’t blame ourselves or punish ourselves for that. We can only do the best that we are capable of in that moment, and then re-resource ourselves and keep trying.

This week, may we all experience the gifts both of listening wholeheartedly and of being listened to the same way. With courage and openness; with awareness and the willingness to be wrong; with curiosity and releasing of fear and control, let us engage again and again with this indispensable tool for building community.

Through it, let us find ourselves changed. May it be so.

Copyright 2023 Miranda (Bran) Lennox