I’m a quiet person, not much of a talker. But I don’t think you would know that here with all I seem to have to say. And I’m not quiet because I don’t think I have anything to offer in conversation. I’m quiet because I prefer to listen.
You learn a lot more that way. Whether from a person, thing, animal or nature itself. When someone is singing, or you hear a song over the radio, do you try to sing over it? Sing something different? No, you either sing along or just listen.
Most people are busy planning what they’ll say next while you’re speaking. They’re not actually listening to you. And you’re not usually listening to them either. I learned that in psychology class a long time ago. So when we really listen to someone, their song, we are sharing a rare experience.
A doctor walked by my desk at the hospital awhile back, making a comment to me about how quiet I am as he passed. He gave me suspicious look too, like I was doing something wrong. He probably didn’t mean any harm by it, but I felt like a weird little girl all over again.
Thinking about it though, I guess it is odd, I am odd or different from many of the other people around me who are always talking about something. The noise I think is comforting to some people. Especially in the ER where I work, chaos and clamor mean life, or that there’s still a chance for it. Quiet on the other hand, can mean death.
I’m glad to be not so quiet here, speaking (quite selfishly) without interruption. Not that I don’t like to listen, because I actually love to. It’s just nice to finally share all the things I’ve learned from so many years of doing it.