Listening is a Healing Act: Discover how mindful listening calms the nervous system, builds trust, and supports emotional healing.

Listening nurtures connection, compassion and inner peace

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Segment 1 Episode 7

Listening is a Healing Act

The way you listen shapes the world around you. — Dr. Kidi

Reflection

There were once people with large chests and the smallest of limbs who lived beside a river. They spent their days talking over one another, their voices rising and tumbling, never pausing to listen, not even to themselves. The more they quarreled and gossiped, the larger their chests grew and the smaller their limbs became. Trapped in the storm of their own voices, the Talkers (Lef-Lafi-Woch) lived unhappily ever after.

I was about ten when Zenebu, a woman hired by families in our neighborhood to make injera, the soft, spongy Ethiopian flatbread, told me and two of my friends the story of the Talkers by the river. We huddled close to her as she stirred the charcoal, poured the coffee, and moved gracefully from one task to the next. Her voice was like a river itself, carrying us deeper into the story. When she paused, we held our breath, begging for more. “Let me burn incense,” she would say, “that will keep them away.”

We gasped and waited for her to continue. After the story, we would run to the small creek at the edge of the neighborhood where she said the Talkers lived. We searched beneath the branches for the big-chested, small-legged creatures. I believed so deeply that when people talked too much, I’d look at their limbs, waiting for them to shrink.

I can still feel the hush of those afternoons, the scent of coffee weaving through the charcoal’s glow, the suspense tucked inside her pauses. The details of the tale have faded, but I remember the way I leaned in letting each word flow through me like water finding its way home.

But over the years, as I rose from student to resident to attending, the hours I once spent listening thinned like light through a narrowing window. The keyboard and the patient began to compete for my hands. My eyes flickered between screens and faces, the pulse of the room measured not in breath but in keystrokes. My patients tethered themselves to their own devices, their stories scattered like ash. Words drifted like smoke, orbiting but never landing. I heard complaints, but not the quiet truths beneath them. In those rushed times, I was curing, but was I healing?

One of those stories belonged to a patient who came to see me once a week. A tall veteran in the way old trees are tall, once straight, now gently bent under invisible weight. His hands were steady but tired, the kind that had carried heavy things. His eyes held the quiet fatigue of someone who had fought too many battles, not just on foreign soil but in waiting rooms.

The fifteen minutes I had with him always dissolved into paperwork, forms to prove he wasn’t selling his medication, compliance checks, boxes to tick. There was no space to hear his story. His electronic chart, which spoke louder than his voice, was crowded with diagnoses, alerts, and a label: “Frequent Flyer” that followed him from doctor to doctor. And when I wasn’t there, he had to plead with strangers to believe his pain, to fight against a label no one had stopped to look beyond.

At the end of our visits, I would hand him his refill. He would rise slowly, straightening his back as if preparing to lift the same invisible weight once more. At the door, he would pause, meet my eyes, and whisper, “Thank you.”

There is nothing like unearned gratitude to hollow you out. I would walk out efficient, but empty. I had heard his pain, but I had not listened to his story. I had numbed his pain, but I did not have time to heal his heart.

I am telling these stories to clarify my purpose for writing this blog: Listening is a healing act both for the listened and the listener. It creates safety, calms the body, and builds trust. It softens what is tense, reflects back dignity, quiets the noise, and reminds us we are not alone. When we listen with presence, the energy between us merges. The one who speaks feels seen. The one who listens receives the quiet balm of shared humanity.

Yet our minds are often too noisy, planning what to say next rather than staying fully present, holding on to less than a quarter of what we hear. It isn’t from lack of care, but from the quiet chaos inside us as we shape responses, judge, compare, and race ahead. Too often, listening is mistaken for hearing, and in that gap, presence quietly slips away.

The Fallacy of I Hear You

I have heard many say, “I hear you,” and I have said it myself as a way of saying, “I am here with you.” There is nothing wrong with that, as long as we understand that hearing and listening are not the same.

Hearing is a biological process that happens without intention. It begins when sound waves travel through the ear canal, vibrate the eardrum, and move through tiny bones to the cochlea, where hair cells turn the vibrations into electrical signals. These signals travel to the brain through the auditory nerve, allowing us to recognize and make sense of sound.

Listening is the intentional act of giving full attention to what is being said, allowing words and emotions to sink in, be felt, and understood.

Hearing is when you catch the words.

Listening is when the words reach your heart.

And what reaches the heart has the power to heal the listener and the listened.

Listening begins with ourselves. In my earlier reflection, The Body Remembers, I shared how the body speaks to us and how healing begins by listening inwardly. The same practice shapes how we listen to others. When we learn to quiet our own noise, we can meet another person with presence. It isn’t about perfection or crafting the perfect response, but about softening the edges of distraction and receiving rather than reacting. And when we do, the distance between us closes and connection deepens.

The Noise Inside Us

There is chatter inside each of us, a constant stream of thoughts planning, solving, judging, and anticipating. Beneath the hum of “what’s next,” we may hear, but we cannot truly listen.

Noise fills the space where listening should live. It turns us into debaters or judges, ready to respond rather than to understand. I know this noise well. It stood between me and my veteran patient as the clock ticked, between me and a friend as ego waited to speak, between me and my children when I offered advice instead of presence.

Our power to decide to listen lives in the pause between impulse and response. In that space, we quiet the noise within and return to the present moment. When we slow down enough to receive someone’s story, we offer them the safety of being seen and, in doing so, begin to heal the part of ourselves that forgot how to be still. In that stillness, we are mirrors, reflecting one another back into wholeness.

We Are Mirrors of One Another

Each morning, I look at myself in the mirror as I wash my face. Water runs down my cheeks, light brushes against my skin, and for a brief moment, I meet my own gaze. After I step away, I catch glimpses of who I am reflected in the faces of others. In a colleague’s raised eyebrows when I hand them a task. In a patient’s tightened mouth, in the cashier’s jaw softening after a smile. In the neighbor’s brightened eyes at my hello.

Every person you speak with reflects your energy back to you. Research shows that facial expressions are contagious. In one study, when listeners smiled more, speakers smiled more too, creating a shared emotional space.

How you listen shapes what you see. When you meet someone with tension, their face tightens. When you meet them with ease, their breath softens. And when you listen with presence, their gratitude rises. Their ease becomes your ease, their calm becomes our calm, like warmth passed from one heart to another. It fills you and carries you through the world with grace.

If how you listen shapes what you experience, and if experiencing gratitude is itself healing, then learning to listen is worth every effort. Listening becomes an act of healing. You become both the healer and the healed. Every person you meet becomes your reflection, your medicine, your teacher. And this isn’t an abstract idea. It’s something you can practice in the small, ordinary moments of connection.

Try this: In your next conversation, soften your face. Offer a smile. Give your full attention without rushing to respond. Notice how their expression shifts, how their energy changes. In that moment, you’ll witness your reflection in them—a quiet reminder that the way you listen shapes the world around you.

To help you anchor this rhythm, I want to share a simple path I use, called HEAL. It is a way to listen with your whole being, to give and receive healing in the same breath.

HEAL to Listen, Listen to Heal

H — Hold

Before you speak or respond, pause. Take a slow breath. Notice your body. Put anything that is pulling your attention on a cloud and imagine it floating away.

E — Embrace

Keep your breath steady. Offer quiet signals of presence such as a nod, a relaxed gaze, or an open posture. Let the other person know, without words, “I am here with you.”

A — Acknowledge

Reflect back what you hear so they know their words have landed. Say things like “It sounds like…” or “What I’m hearing is…” This is not about fixing or advising. It is about honoring their story.

L — Lean

Lean in with curiosity. Ask open questions if needed. Let silence stretch when it needs to. Trust that your quiet presence is often more powerful than any answer.

For guided meditation, go to Dr. Kidi's Healing Space.

Listening Also Means Protecting Your Peace

Listening is a healing act, but so is protecting your peace. Not every story is meant to be held without end. Sometimes a person speaks in circles, carrying the same pain, and what once felt like connection begins to feel like a weight. When that happens, staying in the conversation is no longer helpful to them or to you.

Listening to someone’s trauma again and again can leave quiet marks on the listener. It can drain your energy, make your own thoughts heavy, and pull you into pain that isn’t yours. Continuing to listen while feeling resentment is not listening. It is silent endurance, and it serves no one. Setting a boundary is not walking away. It is keeping the space honest.

This is where HEAL can guide you:

• Hold and notice your limits.

• Express your boundary with kindness.

• Acknowledge the other person’s experience.

• Leave space for return if it’s right for both of you.

Listening is not about losing yourself in another person’s story. It’s about meeting them with your full heart and knowing when to return to your own. If what you hear becomes too heavy or begins to darken your own inner space, reach out for support. This does not make you weak. Holding another’s pain requires strength, but holding it alone can break you.

A kind boundary can be as healing as the listening that came before it. True listening is an act of care—and that care includes you.

What Next

Listening is not a single act. It is a way of being.

Every conversation opens a small doorway into presence. You can rush past it, or you can choose to step through. When you pause and listen with your whole being, you become a vessel of safety. Listening becomes mindfulness in motion, a living meditation that can unfold anywhere.

I can still feel the fuzzy warmth of that moment at ten years old, listening in deep presence as Zenebu’s silky voice flowed like water, each word a small brushstroke painting the big-chested Talkers by the creek as her face changed with the story: a grin curling into a smirk, a smirk softening into a frown. I didn't have words for it then, but the moment felt sacred.

Years later, when time became a scarce currency and efficiency was rewarded over connection, I found myself in a room with those like my veteran patient who sat before me, carrying stories I never fully heard. I wish I asked him about the bombs that exploded, the dead people he saw, the kindness he received, the lingering nights he endured on the battlefield on foreign land. I can still imagine him moving from doctor to doctor, from one denial to another, waiting for someone to listen. I often wonder what might have changed if I had the time to listen. What if I had been the wingbeat, a barely felt stirring in the air, one small moment of presence that rippled outward and set a wave of listening in motion? And that small movement becomes a current. A current becomes a wave. A wave becomes change. From this, I conclude that listening is also a moral act.

My hope is that you stir the air by listening to give and receive. Receiving requires giving. When you open your heart to another’s story, you also open the door to your own healing. So today, and every day, as you speak with a friend, a stranger, or the voice inside yourself, listen as if their story is a medicine meant for you. Because it is.

Returning to presence is the heart of healing and the soul of What Healing Knows. If you are ready to learn and heal through listening, I welcome you into my healing space, where presence becomes a pathway home to yourself.

Dr. Kidi's Healing Space

Guided Meditation: HEAL practice for Listening to Heal.

H — Hold: Breathe in slowly.Notice where your body is.Anchor yourself at this moment.

E — Embrace: Soften your shoulders.Invite warmth and presence.

A — Acknowledge: Notice what is being said or felt.Receive without reacting.

L — Lean: Stay curious.Let the silence hold the space.

Guided HEAL meditation for inner calm, emotional healing, stress relief and mindfulness.

Journal Invitation

Ask yourself, and write it by hand:

What noise within me keeps me from truly listening?

Let the question rest gently on the page. Do not rush for answers. Let it open slowly and reveal what you may not have known you were holding.

Healing Words to Repeat

I listen to heal and be healed

Call to Connection

I would love to know how this reflection on listening touched you. What are your own listening challenges?

Share your thoughts in the comments so we can learn from one another and grow together. If you share on social media, tag me on Instagram @drkidi.healing — I love seeing how these reflections meet your life.

You can also join me on Substack at @drkidi1 to receive new writings and healing reflections directly.

Until next time, keep listening.Healing always knows the way.

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