09/29/2023
Shocking how easy it is to size up a total stranger. How quick we write someone else’s story as if we know it for certain. Just by hearing how they talk, seeing what they wear, or learning where they’re from. It seems we spend a good bit of our lives thinking we know. And yet when it comes to telling our own story, we go sheepish, stutter or resist. Despite having moved through every moment of our own lived experience, it still feels like a Herculean effort to reveal the whole truth.
Dropping our cloak and armor feels increasingly more difficult in a world that promotes risky exposure. Unless this is just fear talking. Either way, there is work to be done. Particularly among men whose outward facing identity may be on point, but whose sense of self and purpose are secretly compromised.
Slowing down just enough to suspend writing off the “new guy” takes courage. It plunges you into the choppy waters of having to close your mouth and open your ears. It forces a different kind of responsibility. To actively listen to someone else’s story is not some new-fangled obligation, but rather a true gift. And beyond the simple act of listening is hearing - the nuance or grace in what’s being shared. To truly hear how someone feels, what they believe, or for what they are dreaming takes more effort than most physical workouts.
The irony is that despite the wildly different stories being told every day, our narratives are quite similar. We arrive, we breathe, we seek, we hurt, push, win, lose, laugh, cry, expand, shrink, resist, grow, love, and then leave (among other things). And all the while, we hope with our little hearts and minds, that we have the repeated experience of feeling seen and heard. This is love felt.
If you ever come across one of these guys, rest assured they know what it means to listen and how it feels to be heard. In other words, you can hold them accountable for doing the same to you.
