Babies and Bessie Have a Common Bond

“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”
― Stephen R. Covey

Ashley and I just returned from a nice, long visit with our 11-month-old grandson.  He lives in another part of the country, and it had been several months since we’d wrapped our arms around the little angel, soon to be mischief maker.  The change was breathtaking.  His vocabulary has expanded exponentially with just one little hitch: he doesn’t know any words.  The only thing coming out of that young mouth, besides whatever he picks up from the ground, and puts in it, are beautifully expressive sounds accompanied by fascinating facial expressions and hand gestures.  We’d respond with wide eyes, smiles and animated head nods, using phases like oh really, or is that right?, trying emphatically to convey that we understood his mysterious vocabulary. 

I’d love to be inside his young brain and know what the tiny commentator/analyst is saying or trying to say.  We were listening carefully, desperately trying to understand his thought process. And we’d point to the trees blowing in the wind, bees buzzing around flowers, birds chirping on nearby branches, the rushing river, setting sun or barking dogs and explain what was happening. And he would listen with incredible intensity.  Whatever thoughts were kicking around that developing brain will remain secret forever, but there is no question he was listening hard, and listening to understand.

Why don’t we “grown-ups” do more of that in our everyday interactions, listen to understand? More typically we butt in before a sentence is even finished, or the first word in a response is “I” followed by a personal perspective or experience.  That’s not listening to understand, that’s listening to reply. There is a huge difference.  Listening to reply carries the assumed responsibility of agreeing, disagreeing, or providing more information on the topic of discussion, conveying our personal level of knowledge or expertise. Listening to understand is often followed by silent reflection, or leads to another question, and another and another, until you understand. Listening to understand is much more fun and all you have to do at the end is nod your head…you understand or are trying to.

On the way home from our visit, with grandparent joy dancing in our hearts, we were startled to hear those same familiar, infant “words” expressed by other little humans waiting in airports for connecting flights.  Maybe there is a special, universal “baby language” known throughout the world, spoken fluently by all developing humans before they become citizens of a particular place or region.  That’s a nice thought: that at some esoteric, basic level we all begin on the same page… before culture and training intervene.

So how does Bessie get brought into this discussion? She can’t see, of course, so there is no need for wasted finger pointing or hand gestures.  And now that her hearing is slowly vanishing like morning mist on a lake, the sweet thing misses many of the sounds that used to fill in the gaps of her dark world.  Does she walk around with her flannel-soft ears flat on her head?  Is her expression dull or lethargic? Heavens no.  More than ever, she is straining at attention, working her brain, trying to sense what’s going on and most of all, listening to understand.  

Try this some time: put on noise cancelling headphones, the type used when operating a chain saw or lawn mower, the kind that muffles all but the loudest sounds.  Then close your eyes.  That’s Bessie’s world all the time. Ancient Bessie and our baby grandson have a common bond, but with strikingly different perspectives. Both are listening and listening hard to understand.  It’s almost as if our grandson already knows how important it is to Be Like Bessie!  We hope the world doesn’t teach him otherwise.