What I Learned From Just Listening

Need to be noticed

Funny as it sounds, I used to believe that if I didn’t speak, I didn’t exist. I thought being noticed was the only way to prove I existed. So I made jokes. Did something dumb. Anything to spark a reaction. That was the only way I knew how to speak. And if I didn’t speak at all… what was the point of me being there?

But after some time living like this, I realized: People weren’t listening to me at all. They were just waiting for their turn to speak. And honestly — so was I. That hit me like a bucket of cold water.

Maybe if I listened more — really listened — and asked more questions… Maybe I could actually connect with people. And something magical happened. People started talking — really talking. They shared stories, opened up. I wasn’t pushing anymore. It just… happened. And it felt incredible.

Eventually, the urge to share my own thoughts started to fade. I was more curious about what others had to say. Sure, sometimes I still wanted to be noticed or validated — but that need slowly started to disappear.

Few Words, More Value

As I changed the way I communicated, I learned to put more thought into the few words I did say. Being present didn’t make me invisible — it helped me understand more. It helped me choose better words. And it made things feel more peaceful, more meaningful.

I saw it in others too. That tension, sadness, even anger — it often came from not being understood. That’s why we keep repeating ourselves. Why we say the same things again and again, just hoping someone will finally hear us.

I once spoke with someone who was constantly complaining about working as an immigrant in Iceland. I’d heard those stories before — I’d lived them myself. Still, I listened. And underneath the complaints, I realized: He wasn’t just tired of work. He was disconnected from what made life meaningful.

So I asked him just one question: “What’s happening in your life besides work?”

And just like that — he switched. He lit up. RPGs, games, old passions… Pieces of himself he’d forgotten were still there.

With one question, at the right time it happens.

Valuable Conversations

To me, a valuable conversation is one I learn something from. When I get a new insight. It’s like reading a new page in a book — or watching a scene unfold in a movie. How interesting it is depends mostly on me.

And if it isn’t interesting? I can always change who I talk to.

But I’ve learned: Sometimes, I’m just a few good questions away from something real. A pause between notes. Just a few moments of presence.

Just a few looks, to get there.