The more I learn, the less I know—because I continue to learn just how much is out there. You don’t know what you don’t know, but you have to listen to learn.
A couple years ago, I qualified as an objectively awful listener. It’s not something to take pride in—rather, it caused strife within relationships, meant others’ ideas may not have had the chance to shine, and artificially limited my world-view.
Part of it stems from arrogance. I know that already, I don’t need to hear that. Part of it stems from being young and infallible. But now I’m a little older, maybe wiser? And here we are—think twice, say nothing.
Reprogramming my brain has been a mammoth task. It will come as no surprise that I’m happy to opine on any and all nonsense—because clearly, each of my opinions must be stated and detailed at length. I can write for hours (and not just via the blog), commenting on life, the universe, and all its failings.
But who needs to hear it? How often can I share an idea in half the words? How many times have I started speaking, only to derail myself with five different stories? There is a beauty in silence, a beauty in brevity.
It’s been quite the life lesson, stepping back and allowing myself the space and time to consider whether what I have to say is actually adding to the conversation.
And as I’ve stepped back, others have stepped forward to share their own anecdotes that have added insight or ideas. Have I needed to hear all of it? No. But have I listened? Mostly. And by listening, it’s made people more receptive to the things I do have to add.
Maybe I’m getting smarter after all.