Listening: A Superpower for Our Times
“The secret is not to make your music louder, but to make the world quieter.” – Mitch Albom
If there were ever an underrated superpower, it is listening. As much as storytelling can change hearts and minds, empathic listening can change lives. When we learn to listen, we can heal one another–and a new One Mind initiative will engender this power to repair the mental health of our society.
Allow me to illustrate, through a time warp to my youth.
It’s dusk in the wilderness. Though this may be an apt metaphor for our times, I mean it literally. I watch the last crimson rays of the sun skim off the summit of South Sister, the highest peak in Oregon’s Three Sisters Wilderness Area. Having slept a night alone here in the heart of the backcountry, I’ve spent the day thinking about the challenging experiences of the last two weeks. Coming down from that peak with my teammates in this Outward Bound wilderness survival course, I ached to achieve something that mattered in this life. And here I am, at the end of a long day of tortured thought, suddenly calm, and noticing the song of the crickets and toads. I look into my journal, and read what I have written there: Believe in yourself, and believe yourself. In that moment, I know who I am and what my life would mean. I am fourteen, and I have found my True North.
Since then I’ve lived through schizophrenia and a rocky climb back to a meaningful life. Over four decades I have found, completely lost, and ultimately, rediscovered a sense of identity. How have I done it? In part, through storytelling. But every story needs a listener.
As I began to heal from the devastation of psychosis, I took classes to ease back into the working world. In a creative writing class, I had the opportunity to write a memoir. Wanting to write about an experience I still felt pride in, I chose to write about my time in the backcountry. As I read my story to my classmates, I could feel the tension in my jaw and the butterflies in my stomach.
“So, what do you think?” The instructor asked the class. “Remember, in your critique be kind but honest.”
For almost fifteen seconds, crickets. I could hear my classmates’ uncertain breathing. Then, the young woman at my left spoke slowly. “I pity the protagonist.”
“Why?” Asked the instructor.
“He seems so desperate to lead, to impress the other students on the trip.”
Another voice piled in, “The part where he made everyone hot chocolate in the morning and half of them didn’t want it, what was he thinking?”
My stomach knotted, heavy as a rock. I felt like my world was crumbling again. They must know me better than I do, I thought, and they must be right. After all, they’re normal. I’m not.
Sadly, the self-stigma I felt due to my illness must have shaded my portrayal of myself and my experiences as I wrote. Shocked and devastated, I dropped out of the class.
My memory became a source of shame and confusion. I had lost my True North. For the next decade, I spoke little about myself.
Life went on, and I began to work in communications for One Mind, the mental health nonprofit my family founded five years after my first psychotic episode. I traveled to conferences, learned about mental health science, and met new people.
At a One Mind conference twelve years ago I met a man who would change my life. Robin Cunningham was graying and walked with a cane, but still a lion in his mind. Learning of his amazing life, in which he had led companies, started nonprofits, advised governments and wrote books, seemed all the more impressive when I learned that he, too, had schizophrenia. Kindred spirits, over time we bonded and became close friends.
One morning at a conference center breakfast table, I shared with Robin the story of my backcountry experience, and of the memoir critique that had wrecked my self-esteem. Robin listened, calmly and appreciatively. As a friend, that was all he needed to do.
As I spoke and he listened, a revelation struck me–my backcountry experience really did mean everything I thought that it did. It taught me values and skills that had formed me, as a proud human. Though my classmates had perceived my experience in a harsh light, the interpretation that really mattered was my own. My history was mine to own again and the identity that came with it, and again, I felt whole.
Because of how Robin’s listening helped me heal, I will forever honor his memory. What if we can inspire this kind of devotion for causes we care about? What if we could help societal leaders to understand and embrace the needs of people experiencing mental illness?
We’ve all heard the “Golden Rule”: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I would like to elevate an alternative. “Do unto others as they would have you do unto them.”
When my family founded One Mind, we knew science driven innovation is vital to enable people who struggle with mental illness to reclaim their lives. Over the last few years I’ve been dismayed to watch a growing distrust in science and medicine turn more and more people away from the science-driven care that could otherwise help them climb from suffering to thriving. We’ve reached a point where 65% of people with mental illness believe the mental health system cannot help them. The chasm of distrust and discrimination needs a bridge.
Toward that end, in 2024 we launched the One Mind Lived Experience Initiative to build that bridge, guiding leaders to understand the perspectives of those who struggle, to address their genuine needs and interests with authentic, enlightened care. We are achieving this goal through empathic listening, sharing relevant stories, and offering ideas based on our expertise.
As Chair of our Lived Experience Council, I pinch myself knowing I get to guide these leaders alongside fellow advocacy luminaries who bring their own insights, ideas and transformative stories to the field.
So as you support bringing innovations to life, please also join us in revivifying trust in those innovations. Listen to people who have lived in the trenches of mental illness. You will learn the truth of a powerful saying from my friend, Dr. Elyn Saks, “The humanity we all share is more important than the mental illness that we may not.” Moreover, you will learn to heal yourself and others.
Listen—a brighter future is calling us on. Let’s make it real!
Brandon Staglin,
Chief Advocacy and Engagement Officer, One Mind
Chair, One Mind Lived Experience Council