What followed my decision to go all in on the document process was unlike anything I had ever experienced.
The first thing Ankush did was take us through what he called the ‘listening distinction’ to help us dial up our listening as we embarked on creating our documents.
He asked us to think of a person, past or present, alive or dead, known to us or not, famous or not. The only criterion was this: if we could spend an hour with them, our listening would be so sharp that we wouldn’t miss a word… or even a syllable… of what they had to say.
For me, the answer came quickly.
It was my Dad.
My Dad died in September 2018, a little over four years before this immersion. He had been the most influential man in my life. A father in a million. The most loving, kind, generous and wise person I had ever known.
At his funeral, when I had the chance to say a few words, I described him as my hero.
Choosing my Dad was a no-brainer.
Then Ankush asked us to think of someone who, if we spent an hour with them, we wouldn’t hear a word they said.
Again, the answer came quickly.
I won’t say who it was or why. I had my reasons. What I did know was that if I spent time with him, my listening for anything he had to say would be close to non-existent.
The whole listening distinction felt a little strange at the time. I remember wondering why it mattered.
It soon became clear.
Ankush had us slow down and see that the quality of our listening has very little to do with the person speaking and everything to do with us. Listening is a choice.
He then challenged us to bring our very best listening… my Dad listening… to ourselves as we began the process of creating our documents.
He wanted us to become aware of the ongoing conversation we are constantly having with ourselves about ourselves. The narrative that runs quietly in the background all day long. So familiar that, like elevator music, we barely notice it’s there.
The difference is that elevator music isn’t running your life.
That inner narrative is.
What became apparent very quickly, as I applied my Dad listening to myself, was that much of how I thought about myself and spoke to myself about myself was more than a little unkind.
Most of it was nothing short of brutal.