Listening for the spark

I was in Iowa City earlier this week to celebrate my niece's 6th birthday. Before the day's events would commence–the whirlwind of being with family, exploring, connecting, and celebrating–I would start my mornings much the same way as I do when I’m home. I'd wake before the sun, throw on a cozy sweatshirt, venture out for coffee, and sit in the stillness of the early morning to write. Given my travels, my practice took place on an oversized sectional couch placed at the center of the hotel lobby. Each morning, I'd sink into the soft cushions with my coffee nearby and Muji notebook in hand.

One morning, as my pen scratched along the gridded pages, I overheard two front desk staff members chatting. I gathered it was shift change.

"How are you doing today?" the night shift asked brightly.

"Meh...I'm...okay," replied the day shift.

"Hmmm, that sounds sus."

"Huh?"

"Sus...Suspect. You don't sound very convincing."

"Oh, yeah, well, it's just a lot this time of year between work and school. I should have been working on my paper last night, but I stayed up making pumpkin bread instead.

"Oh yeah? Sounds good!"

"Yeah, it did turn out pretty good. It was a new recipe I was trying."

"Nice! What is the best thing you baked this year?"

"Hmmmm... well, it'd have to be the raspberry jelly roll cake. I thought for sure it wouldn't turn out, but it was really cool...."

The conversation continued, and the day shift shared about the confections she created over this past year. The night shift responded with delight and curiosity.

And this simple exchange got me thinking about listening.

Listening is a deeply generous act. It's being present with all that someone is offering. It's not simply hearing the words but noticing all that surrounds the language–the tone, the emotion, the things left unsaid.

So often, when talking with someone, we're not fully listening. Either distracted by devices or the construction of our thoughts, how we might respond, and planning what we might say.

And we've all likely had experiences of not being heard. Sharing with a friend or colleague and receiving a response that's not quite right.

When someone shares they are having a hard time, the impulse often is to fix it. What struck me about this exchange is that the night shift didn't jump in with solutions for the day shift. He didn't simply hear what she was saying and offer an ill-fitting solution. Instead, he noticed a small detail. The pumpkin bread.

Perhaps over their previous exchanges, she had mentioned other items she had baked.

Perhaps he had stored away these details, and in this moment, he offered her an option to connect with something she enjoyed, something that delighted her.

Over the years, I have often posed the following question to colleagues or friends,

"What is giving you joy right now?"

I find it's a question that causes the recipient to pause, to take a moment to think, to mine their experience for the sources of delight.

I also recognize this is a potent question, and at times, finding joy might feel elusive or impossible. And so I'm taking cues from the night shift; rather than asking broadly about joy, I’m practicing listening with curiosity. And through this practice, I’m exploring the possibility of connecting others to the simple sources of joy.

Asking questions like,

What is the most satisfying meal you had recently?

Or the best cup of coffee?

What is something you completed recently?

Or when was the last time you watched a sunrise?

And so I invite you, as you move through your days, to perhaps practice listening to those around you. See if you can notice the moments when you hear another’s voice spark up or the presence of delight. And might you experiment in conversation with the practice of connecting to that source of joy?