Do I want to be right, or do I want to communicate?

A few years ago, I was walking in Plaka—somewhere along Areopagitou—with a friend of mine. It was one of those quiet days when you have nothing to do, yet you carry a lot within you. We were talking about work, about something that was on his mind. I was listening—or so I thought. Until he looked at me and said: “I feel like you’re not really listening to me. You’re just waiting for your turn to speak.” He didn’t say it aggressively. He said it calmly, almost as an observation. But it shook me. Because he was right. We all say we want communication. But usually, we mean: “I want to express my own version.” Active listening—truly listening, with the intention to understand rather than to respond—often doesn’t happen, not because it’s difficult, but because it requires you to be genuinely present. In practice, active listening means: – I don’t interrupt. I don’t finish sentences. – I don’t prepare my response while the other person is speaking. – I don’t try to prove that I’m right. – I listen with my whole being. And the (positive) intention behind all this is crucial. Because intention shows. And the person you’re talking to feels it before you even speak. You may say the perfect sentence, but if there is no space, the other person will feel pressure. You may say a simple “I’m listening,” and it can feel completely empty if, inside, you’re counting the seconds until it’s your turn. No one is really looking for perfect words. They are looking not to have to raise their voice to be heard. They need to leave a conversation with the feeling: You saw me. You heard me. I wasn’t alone. You may not need to say anything at all. You just need to be there. With a clear presence. And let your non-verbal communication say: “I’m here. I’m not against you.” And sometimes, that is the hardest thing. But also the bravest.