I am the world’s greatest listener. 

My ears have nothing to do with my skills. I use them for telephone conversations and as most excellent support for my glasses. The words that come out of the mouth will confuse me if I grant them too much importance, but I will admit that I pay close attention to the eyes, watching where they go and how they do it. 

My full attention is a fleeting fickle thing, and not everyone can, or will, be the recipient of it.   Nor can I predict what will capture my attention so thoroughly as to bring about the full scope of my power. Given the need professionally or personally, with intense concentration, I am able to intentionally command only a fraction of this power, but combined with eye contact, practiced body language and a few well-placed conversational add-ons... a fraction is all I need. 

People do not listen to each other as a rule... so people have no real expectations of competence or metrics to ascertain levels of performance.  Long accustomed to mediocrity, people are only too happy when they are able to complete their thoughts without interruption.  Thrilled to achieve an actual two-way dialogue… they are overwhelmed when not forced to “hurry up” or “net it out.” 

A fraction of my true “Power to Listen” puts me squarely ahead of the most attentive parent, miles ahead of the most acclaimed classroom teacher, somewhere akin to the spouse who is already in trouble, and a quantum leap beyond the would-be, first time lover… eager to discover the clues that may lead to sexual bliss. 

On infrequent occasions, my true power to listen is fully unleashed. Once during a short one hour flight to Raleigh, North Carolina, an elderly woman who was traveling with a cat in the seat beside me… spoke to me.  Unaccustomed to flying, bound for family members with a new-borne child, she spoke while I listened.  

She spoke to me through unspoken fear and with memories painful and strong.

She spoke with an anticipation quite clear and with need that poured forth like a song.

She spoke in a small tiny trembling voice that made each precious word a rare treasure.

And her deep-set brown eyes were a little bit moist, yet they showed me a depth beyond measure. 

I listened long after the talking had stopped as emotions played over her face.

Amidst dreams of grandchildren that she would adopt if allowed to assemble her case.

I could hear her reluctance to want this too much, her belief that her children need space

But so thick was her loneliness… so real to the touch, I could feel the pain she would erase.  

I could not help but listen as we walked from the gate and two small children called out her name.

With my power I heard her assessing her fate ... feeling this was no time to complain.

As she faded from view in a tangle of legs and of arms and of children in bliss,

I reviewed what I’d learned while she’d shared her alarm, quite convinced that her life was amiss.  

She really wanted to help her daughter-in-law with the new baby, and in so doing… they might make room for her and her broken heart.  It was a heart long broken… out of loneliness and the feeling of no longer being needed.  It was a heart beset by fear of the illness that she shared with no one. 

I realize that she spoke to me of her illness -- with what she did not say. She spoke of it in between the words that she actually used. I had listened to her speak of what little time was remaining. I heard her speak of choices made that should not have been, but were. Had I just used a fraction of my power, I would only have heard an elderly traveler… eager to see the family she had not seen in years, and eager to meet the new grandchild she had only dreamed of. 

A fraction of my power would have had me sitting beside another faceless stranger. But something in her had unleashed the full measure of my power, and I heard desperation and loneliness while facing the realization of her own mortality. I heard an overwhelming fear of rejection...  in a pitched battle with a deep-rooted desire to share her final days with those she loved.  I heard her ask the world what would happen to her cat once she was gone.

As I listened to her, I heard the cacophony of chaos as the final bricks and clutter of a woman’s life cascaded all around her. The things I heard broke my heart.

And I cursed this power of mine.