Respecting their canvas

When people tell me their stories I listen as one that sees a canvas being unrolled and a picture being painted.

I wince at my past behaviour: While they were still painting the picture I would start splashing paint onto that canvas. Poke my fingers onto it and dabble. Smearing my opinions all over. Imposing my reality onto their canvas.

Now I practice waiting. Waiting to be invited into another's reality. I am now privileged to hear deeper and richer stories from others.

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