You’re Responding to What You Think the Other Person Is Saying

There was a time when I believed I was a good communicator. I listened carefully, chose my words thoughtfully, and spent a lot of time being silent. But over time, I began to notice something subtle and honestly, a little uncomfortable.

Most of the time, I wasn’t actually responding to what the other person said. I was responding to what I thought they meant. And the other person, in turn, was doing the same with me.

We weren’t really in conversation — we were having two separate ones, side by side, believing we were connected when we weren’t. That realization hit me one day while I was in conversation with my then-boyfriend and now-husband. We were both trying to be honest, but somehow, everything we said made the other defensive. I was listening to not what was being spoken, but the interpretations behind them — the tones, the assumptions, the imagined intentions.

And that’s when it struck me: I respond to my perceptions, not people.

I saw that I was living in the world inside my head. I thought I was listening, but often, I was waiting to reply, or preparing to defend, or assuming what’s coming next. When I started to observe myself in conversations, I realized how quickly I jumped to meaning. How my mind filled in the blanks before the other person had even finished speaking. If everyone is talking to and from the world in their heads, then who is listening?

I was lucky, for I did the leadership curriculum at Victor Manickam Knowledge Group where an integral part is studying and practising, ‘What is listening?’. 6 of us were stumped, ‘cause we got that we don’t know what listening means. We took turns practising the elements of listening and were seeing how illusioned we were! I only had to check myself on 3 elements – Could I reproduce what was being said? Could I recreate it in my way? Could I experience the experience of the other? 

At first, it felt awkward — like I was slowing down something that should be natural. But soon, I realized this small act of checking in creates something extraordinary: space.

Space for truth. Space for the other person to feel listened to. Space for me to grow and love. It’s amazing how many misunderstandings melt away with reproducing-recreating and experiencing. Things that might have turned into arguments or judgments now become opportunities to create.

And in that space, something else has happened — I’ve started to feel lighter. My assumptions have been reduced. My need to be right has softened.

Because when I listen to understand, not to reply, I no longer carry the weight of misinterpretation.

Listening, I’ve learned, is not passive. It’s the most active thing you can do in a conversation. It takes presence, tenderness, and humility. It asks you to quiet the noise inside your own head long enough to truly receive what’s being said — as it is, not as you think it is.

Real communication is not about talking more clearly.

And somewhere in that space, connection finally begins — not between two voices, but between two hearts that are, at last, truly listening to each other.