Don’t faint. A week ago, I did something I’ve never done before. I listened to my husband.
My husband and I have been together for eight years, and have known each other for almost 30. He tells me, as have others, I’m a good listener; I actually teach a type of deep listening in my Re-Story Circles and classes. But a week ago, I felt like I listened to him in a way that caused me to hear him for the first time.
What was different?
It was the echo effect.
Echo effect?
We had dinner with friends at their house recently. Liz and I were having a conversation about “victim-speak” while our husbands were out in the garage talking about motorcycles.
Liz was sharing an experience in “being heard” by her grown daughter. Her daughter had practiced the echo effect in listening to her mom gripe. It goes like this:
When you’re listening to another person, listen for the specific tone of “victim-speak,” or “gossip-speak (you know what I’m talking about…).” If that’s the tone you hear, don’t respond with words or body language, don’t ask questions, don’t engage, in essence don’t play the game. Let it be an opportunity for the speaker to hear herself, hear her own tone. Create and hold the space for it to echo back to the speaker. Give the speaker the gift of silence so she can hear and sense the stew she is creating for herself.
And here’s an important key: do this without projecting or communicating blame or shame.
Hmm.
Lo and behold, the next morning as he was getting ready for work, my husband’s stress level got the best of him and a negative downward spiral followed. I wanted to help (read fix him) but quickly intuited the best way to do that was to practice echo listening. It was uncomfortable…at first.
I looked at him, loving eyes concentrating on his body language, his words, the hurt and anguish I could feel coming from him. It was not directed at me; I did not take it personally. I allowed him his feelings, his words. Any sense of wanting to fix him, to stop him, to make things different disappeared. I passed no judgment, communicated no blame.
And, I did not intervene, did not speak, did not move my body or react in any way. I simply held the space for him.
When he went into the garage and opened his car door to get in, I did not move toward him. I stayed at the back of the garage by the door leading into the house and watched him back out. He blew me a kiss from the car and I returned one to him.
He drove off and for a moment I regretted not wrapping my arms around him. But my gut told me the gift of space trumped a hug – so he could hear and process his own words, the words I did not try to interpret, interrupt or question.
I started the laundry, fed the cats, cleaned the litter, got my headset and left to take my morning power walk. In turning on my walking music, I noticed a voicemail had come in. It was from him.
“Hi. I’m sorry about that. It’s that overloaded feeling, and maybe I need to open up a journal and start writing in the morning instead of throwing up on you. I’m so sorry. I’ll see you tonight. I love you. Bye.”
That, dear friends, is a man worthy of respect, one who is able to process his actions much more quickly than I. And my respect for him continues to grow because of such displays of character. Author Joan Didion put it this way, “Character [is] the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life—is the source from which self-respect springs.”
Let’s face it, we’re all just trying to figure it out, aren’t we?
And practicing echo listening is one gift we can offer to each other as we try to figure it out and learn to re-story our lives.
Can you hear me now?
When was the last time you were listened to? For those of you in the Austin area, consider joining us for the next Re-Story Circle either July 9 (South Austin) or July 11 (North Austin). Click on the “Re-Story Circles” tab above for more information.
What a concept; echo listening. When reading about what happened, as you practiced it on Robert, I thought, “Wow! What a neat, Buddha-esque gift of communication!”
Using open, deep, loving listening, without reactionary words or gestures, provides a deep, free space for echo listening. Thanks for sharing this!
Yeah, I know. What a concept! Thanks for your comments. Now to make it a habit…
No drama. So well done. I could feel the peace you both felt in the end. Space to be heard, just heard, is wonderful. What a gift it is.
Thanks, Nadine. It did feel good, sort of like the difference between deep breathing and shallow breathing, if that makes any sense.
Jeanne, thanks so much. As always with you I am both enriched and inspired. This is a tool I will use again and again. In fact, I have lately been so aware of how much I love to “fix” those people that I love. How much more respectful and loving to both allow them to “fix” themselves, or not, and to trust that whichever choice they make is just perfect for them.
Great comments, Shirley. We somehow feel fixing is loving (it’s such a great distraction from taking care of our own stuff). Amen to your “respect and trust” take on things.
I’m inspired to look for an opportunity to practice echo listening.
I shall be your guinea pig. You know me, I can whine with the best of them…
All of what you are talking about keeps getting presented to me over and over lately. Its a little bit too synchronistic. The fixing, the letting go of such, etc… Parenting can also present many opportunties to swoop in…. I’m very interested in learning more Jeanne. MM
Hmm, parental swoopers. We have much to learn, don’t we? Thanks for your insights, Mary.
Love it! I have done and experienced this many times with my husband, but sort of did it intuitively and didn’t really shine the light on it or name it like you have. The way you describe it, though, helps me go deeper into this process so I can do it more intentionally. Thank you!
And you can keep reminding me to do it more often! Thanks, Carolyn.