The Heart of Gentleness is Listening
We need to learn to listen, deeply, with our hearts.
A mother kisses a crying child’s forehead; a brother praises his little sister for her bravery; a neighbor brings dinner to a grieving family; a family comforts a traumatized animal. Humans express gentleness in many ways: gentle touch, tender words, generous actions.
As an animal communicator, my conversations and relationships with animals over the decades have taught me that gentleness has at its core the ability to listen.
You may say, “No, love is at its core,” and you would be right. But love, it seems to me is an abstraction. We can only see it and feel it when we listen, not just with our ears, but with our hearts.
I’ve learned from the animals to listen with my heart. This kind of deep listening requires laying aside preconceived notions and biases. It requires slowing down, breathing, centering yourself. It requires respect and compassion.
When humans share a gentle word or touch or action, they are doing so from that same place of quiet stillness, a place of quiet compassion, a place that requires slowing down long enough to truly see another being, to truly hear them.
Being gentle doesn’t mean being squishy inside, having unclear boundaries, allowing others to take advantage. Gentleness is always strong, sometimes tough. When you comfort a traumatized child, you don’t collapse into the trauma with them. You share your gentleness from a place of strength and balance. You hear the child’s anguish, and you respond with what the child needs.
Can we be gentle if we’re a pile of mush? Can we be gentle if we’re overcommitted, rushing from task to task, burned out and exhausted? If we strive to be gentle, we need to begin with ourselves. We need to learn to listen, deeply, with our hearts.
