The patience to reveal

I have a bad habit. When someone is telling me about something I already know, my instinct is to jump in. "Oh, I know that place." "I have done that too." "Let me tell you about my experience." I do not mean to cut them off, but something in me wants to show that I am familiar, that we have common story.

I read something recently that made me think about this again. The author calls it "Kill the Quick Me Too." The example she gave stuck with me. Someone was telling her about a trip to Washington DC, the monuments, the Kennedy Center, cycling in Rock Creek Park. The whole time, the author was from Washington. She grew up there. She knew every spot the person mentioned.

But she did she say anything? No. She just kept asking questions. Where did you stay? Where did you eat? Did you see the suburbs?

When she finally mentioned it was her hometown, the other person was really surprised. "Why did you not tell me? I must have been boring you."

But she was not bored. She was genuinely enjoying hearing her own city through someone else's eyes.

I think about this and I realize how often I rush to contribute when I could just listen. Everybody wants to add something, everybody wants to be part of the conversation, but there is something powerful about choosing to stay quiet when you could easily speak. It forces you to actually listen. You pick up things you might have missed. You see something familiar from a new angle.

And when you finally reveal what you know, it lands differently. The person respects you more because you knew the whole time and you still let them have the floor.

I am trying to do this more. Resist the urge to jump in. Ask questions instead. Let them finish.