• List any trigger points (certain people, personalities, topics, or situations) that prevent you from thinking and acting abundantly.
• Address other areas of your life where scarcity thinking could be limiting you, your relationships, and your ability to lift others up. Envision the impact of having an Abundance Mentality throughout your life.
When was the last time you listened to understand rather than to reply?
I have a propensity to interrupt. I'm not proud of this, but I’m also not usually aware I’m even doing it. Maybe it’s in my DNA and I missed my calling in life to be a courtroom litigator or CIA interviewer. Either way, if you’ve seen me in action at a dinner party, you’ve likely witnessed this behavior on display.
Most of my conversations follow the same self-defeating cycle: To show genuine interest in the other person, I ask questions. Repeatedly. In rapid-fire succession (like a boxing kangaroo deploying the full speed and power of its feet against its victim). Rarely do I give the other person time to answer before I’m on to the next query. Embarrassingly, I know this because my wife will often put a hand on my arm and say, “Scott, let them finish before you ask another question.”
Why would I do this? It might be to circumvent my social awkwardness. In fact, because of a compulsion to fill any silent space, I frequently ask the same question over an hour or two, to the point where people must think I’m suffering from early dementia, which is no joking matter. My attempt to develop rapport and fill the silence usually creates more awkwardness and lessens my credibility. It also puts people on the defensive—maybe a great asset if you’re an attorney cross-examining a witness, but in all my life roles, not so much.
It’s easy to see how interrupting works against listening. When others are talking, we’re in our own mind formulating a response, crafting a rebuttal, or outright abandoning any mental engagement because we vehemently disagree with such an absurd position. How could you possibly think that? is something I think (or worse, say) way too often. But I’m working on it.
I host a radio program called Great Life, Great Career. In this setting, I’ve discovered not only the importance of silence, but its absolute requirement for listeners to ponder some of the conversational insights. As I interview many talented thought leaders and industry giants, I’ve found that it’s important for people to have space to consider the question I’ve asked—to be allowed time to put a mental peg in their thoughts and hang meaning there. Thankfully, neuroscience backs up everything I’m learning on the job.
Several years ago, I met one of my heroes, Deborah Tannen, the famed Georgetown University professor of linguistics and bestselling author. Her seminal book You Just Don’t Understand claimed the #1 New York Times bestseller position for an amazing eight consecutive months.
During our conversation, she taught me that each of us has a subconscious sense for how long we think the other person should be talking, and when that metaphorical timer ‘’dings” (could be 32 seconds, 48 seconds, might be several minutes), we then interrupt. The result can be an unexpected interruption, which likely comes from a well-intended place (which is to help the other person by offering advice, providing direction, or asking a question). If you find yourself consistently interrupting, she suggests you mentally count to 7—or, if necessary, 10—before you begin speaking, to give the other person more time to continue or complete their thought. You might be amazed at what they end up saying, because it’s in this moment where they might share something especially vulnerable, insightful, or merely be allowed the courtesy of completing their thoughts.
There’s a novel idea—letting someone actually talk without hijacking the conversation based on your own agenda, timeline, or compunction to solve their problem for them.
Here’s my take on this: When someone else is talking, purposely close your mouth and focus on the physical sensation of your lips being pressed together (your own lips, not yours to theirs). And when the other person has paused, count to 7 before responding. Doing so will increase the likelihood that they’ll continue, often sharing crucial details about their point of view or situation. I’m convinced that one of the first steps to becoming a better listener, in addition to actually changing your mindset or beliefs (Challenge 11) about the value of listening, is to simply stop interrupting. Eliminating—or even just lessening—your own interruptions through a small measure of heightened awareness can pay profound dividends in your relationships.
It turns out we don’t invest a lot of time in listening. I often poll leaders in my keynote speeches around the world and ask how many have had formal training around their communication skills. About 70 percent of the audience raise their hand. Then I further define communication to include business writing, media training, public speaking, facilitation skills, and the use of presentation software. At that point, nearly 100 percent have their hand raised. I then pause and ask another question: “How many of you have had formal training or education on effective listening?” I can easily count the number, because it’s often zero, even in a large audience of five hundred or more attendees.
It's easy to see how interrupting works against listening. When others are talking we're in our own mind formulating a response, crafting a rebuttal, or outright abandoning any mental engagement because we vehemently disagree with such an absurd position. How could you possibly think that? is something I think (or worse, say) way too often. But i'm working on it.
Listening is one of the most undervalued communication skills, and it’s rarely taught to leaders. Instead, we’re instructed to clarify our messages, communicate with confidence and persuasion, and master the words we use. At most, we get lip service paid to the value of just shutting up and listening. We lead meetings, town halls, conference calls, webcasts, retreats, and offsites—the list is endless. We’re busy convincing, coaching, clarifying, then starting over and doing it again. Those are hard things to do silently via pantomime or gesticulation. When was the last time you voted for a candidate, followed a leader, or donated money to someone because you admired their listening or gesturing skills? Too often in a world where people are clamoring to be heard, we view listening as irrelevant or weak. Telling—now that’s a strength. Whether delivered through TED, by pundits over news channels, or by high-priced keynote speakers, there’s an entire telling industry out there waiting to be heard (and paid). And increasingly, I’m delighted to be one of them and relieve you of your keynote budget.
So why the bias toward telling? Here’s my succinct answer: Listening sucks. It often requires a generous gift of time and attention to forget about your own needs and focus intently on someone else’s. To really listen requires discipline, self-control, and a genuine desire to understand the other person’s point of view. Listening requires you to care, perhaps even more than you may want. Listening is always selfless. Speaking is often selfish.
And the skill of listening isn’t simply a nice trait for leaders to have—it’s a true leadership competency. Dr. Covey, in his renowned book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, inspires us to become more empathic listeners. Empathic Listening means we listen first, with an open, respectful mindset of Let me try to understand this person’s needs, goals, pressures, and feelings. It’s very selfless: you consciously rid yourself of any distractions and focus intently on what the other person is saying. As a result, you can accurately repeat the content of what they said and the person’s intent to their own satisfaction—not only the words, but the feelings and emotions behind the words.
Dr. Covey also expands on four specific types of poor listening techniques we commonly default to:
•Evaluating (agree or disagree using our own experience as reference)
•Probing