Compassionate Listening, Purposeful Doing
- sophiafkim
- Nov 24
- 3 min read
Read the power of compassionate listening and its role in forging deep connections and inspiring positive action.
Trains rolled in and out as passengers hauled luggage while talking on their phones and mothers chased toddlers running down sidewalks—lives unfolding like a movie through the fogged-up windows of my Volkswagen. But inside my car, time slowed, folding us into a bubble of stillness where we could speak openly. Thirty minutes turned into an hour. Then four. In the passenger seat, my friend bit his fingernails, eyes fixed on the dashboard as he whispered, “I don’t know why I always feel like an outsider.”
His voice trembled, and I felt the weight of his loneliness settle. I swallowed the urge to speak. Instead, I leaned back and listened, tracking every falter, hesitation, and unvoiced feeling. I stayed present as he poured out his insecurities, and in that stillness, I offered the comfort of my full attention. “You always know the right thing to say to make me feel important,” he said.
Those words from ninth grade echo through my head, reminding me how rare it is to be truly heard—not just listened to, but felt and understood. I remember a few years ago pausing mid-sentence, searching for the right words to describe my feelings, only to watch the other person glance away, uninterested. That moment taught me how small being dismissed can make someone feel, and I hope never to make someone feel this way. This led me to step back and really think—What if we treated every conversation like an opportunity to change someone’s life for the better? So, that is what I try to do.
A friend at school is often judged for trying too hard to fit in. I see it too, but I look to understand a genuine person just struggling to find her place. “I feel iced out by our friends,” she confided in me a year ago. I listened intently, considering our group’s social dynamic. I chose my words carefully and gently explained why her eagerness sometimes bothers people. I started organizing hangouts with others who I thought could appreciate her quirks, aiming to bridge new relationships. Gradually, they all connected—studying, ranting, and laughing together.
By truly listening, I helped reshape her social circle—a big difference in her life. Throughout high school, I’ve learned that leadership isn’t always loud, like giving speeches or leading clubs, but it’s also navigating relationships, misunderstandings, or connecting people who are struggling while protecting confidences, and standing by someone when it’s easier not to. To truly understand, connect, and solve problems, I’ve learned to hear not just words, but the vulnerabilities behind them. Solutions don’t always come quickly—they require patience, thoughtful questions, and knowing when to step back. My empathy and ability to listen without judgment builds trust and allows me to read a room, adapt, and bring people closer together with ease.
This ability to empathize and connect others also inspired me to create a mental health mentoring series for my peers on my non-profit CanwayYouth.org website. I invited college students to share their high school stories of insecurities, pressures, and relationships. Learning from others’ experiences has helped my peers feel less alone in navigating their own social and emotional challenges. My school has a high suicide rate, including several recent tragedies, and I want my interviews to offer perspective and hope that life after high school will get better.
When we truly listen, every conversation really can be an opportunity to change someone’s life for the better. This belief has transformed how I show up for others and has become my greatest strength—listening with empathy to drive meaningful action. I’ve experienced how conversations can change how people view themselves and their environment. And so, I often find myself back in the quiet of my car, remembering that, while the world outside never stops talking, the most meaningful connections and positive outcomes are sometimes born in our silence—when we truly listen to understand another person.
