‘I was sent away to live with my granny when my youngest sister was to be born. I was three and a half then. I stayed with my grandma till I was 6. When I moved back to my family, I wasn’t quite sure who they were. That time of my life shows up as murky grey when I think about it.’
“Well, everyone has gone through something or another.”
“Those days life was hard. There were no washing machines and dish-washers. So, I can understand how hard it must have been to look after three under-fives.”
“At least you were re-united with your family within a few years and you were safe.”
“I am sure your grand-ma cuddled you and loved you very much.”
“At least you were in the care of your grand-mother and not some random stranger. I was brought up by nannies.”
“It clearly did you no harm. Look at you.”
Wow! Not one person sitting around that table listened.
Did they have any curiosity? Any fascination?
Do we allow our listening to connect us with something fragile, deep within us?
Does it forge understanding and connection with another?
Do we allow ourselves to sit with someone else’s shadow?
Does our listening ease a burden?
Am I listening?
Are you really listening?
(Resource: In CORe community, we listen.)
kidsaregifts 
When narrating a personal story, a life experience or an event, I find so often that people I speak to adopt the “shift” response, whereby they shift the conversation to themselves entirely, completely bypassing what I have said and showing no interest or curiosity, ask no questions. It’s such a shame that so many people seem to be such poor listeners and totally unable to use a “support” response whereby they show interest, ask questions and delve deeper so a truly meaningful conversation can be had. Sometimes I wonder if people are even listening at all, absorbed as they are in just their own world.
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Hello Yvonne. Yes. One planet. Many worlds. All connected to each other but we forget. Lots of love to you. xxx
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This is so true! I experience it everyday!
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