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03 Apr
2017
Editorial Team.
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Let's Talk About The Lost Art of Listening.

To begin let me tell you I have been away from home since I was 7. It’s been difficult maintaining relationships and I’ve found myself growing apart from people - those who matter to me and the ones I matter to.

I’ve never had problems making friends and I’ve always been surrounded by a few really good human beings who’ve had a beautiful heart.

I have had people who would pester me into a conversation when I have been too quiet and also the ones who would ridicule me for being outwardly emotionally ‘weak’ and there is yet another set that would just let me be.

I don’t have a problem with any set of friends I’ve mentioned here. However, I crave for something - I crave for a true friend. A person who truly listens. A person whose name will pop up in my head the second anything starts eating me from the inside or the second I am beaming with joy.

I don't remember the last time I said something without feeling sorry about having said it. It is a feeling of loss, like I’ve given too much information, more than I should have.

I tend to feel stupid and a little voice in my head tells me that whatever I have to say is gibberish, and highly unimportant. It doesn't matter.

More often than not I would tell myself, “Stop blabbering”, and eventually, over the years, I changed.

I became this person who wouldn’t talk much about the things that really mattered. I wouldn’t really tell anyone if anything would trouble me.

On my end, I try to listen to people. Like actually listen to them. I make sure I pay attention to every word the other person says – the emotion and empathy behind it all.

Somehow, I fail there too. I do not know how to behave when someone is really sad, I fret about what would be the absolutely right thing to say, and I feel bad if I cannot be of any help.

But, I do listen.

I truly believe listening is a lost art. People can talk about pretty much everything inconsequential but vulnerabilities are a complete no-go. You do not talk about one’s weaknesses. Only the weak complain.

Half the people are afraid to talk because they know they might be judged and whatever they have to say will be disregarded.  We live in a world where emotions are for the faint of heart. I keep coming across people who are too battered. They’ve bottled up all their emotions.

They’ve probably had to become this way because nobody really listened to them when they wanted someone to.

There is a difference between listening and understanding. When I was going through clinical depression no medicine helped me.

It was the people who actually listened to me intently who pulled me through it. I didn’t want them to do anything for me - I just wanted them to pay attention.

Every morning when I wake up and prepare my cup of green tea, I wonder what is the point of life, what my dearest ambition is and what is it that keeps me going.

A definition of success that I had read long back runs through my mind.

It said, “To know that one life breathed easier because you lived is to have succeeded.” And that is what keeps me going.

I am out everyday carrying on my crooked shoulder the burden of making sure that everyone around me gets treated well. If not by everyone then by me.

I make sure nobody around me ever feels that whatever they have to say isn’t important. It matters to them and it matters to me. I am on my tiny mission of reviving the lost art of listening and being there.

Nobody asks for much and everyone deserves to be acknowledged and listened to. I won’t wait for the day when people start caring for me and listening to my woes. Instead I would start with being the other party - Being my utterly craved friend to someone else.

It’s high time we groom ourselves and people around us not just physically, but emotionally. Let’s ensure that nobody we love sleeps crying. Let’s start with hearing less, and listening more.

Let’s make it easy for someone.

Let’s revive the lost art of listening.

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The Wall and Us Editorial Team.

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