ATTENTION

Are there people who don’t want to be seen or heard?
Probably not.

Being seen is something fundamental.
Not only with our eyes.
But with attention.

A person we truly listen to feels it immediately.
And we feel the opposite just as clearly:
when someone is sitting there, but already somewhere else inside.

Maybe this is one of the quiet reasons
why so many people feel lonely today, even with full calendars.
Not because no one is there.
But because there is so little real presence.

Multitasking is often seen as something admirable.
We check our first emails at breakfast.
We plan the weekend while cooking.
We nod while someone is talking—
and inside, we are already at the next thing.

But do we really listen in those moments?
With full attention?
Or does something get lost?

I used to be annoyed
that I wasn’t particularly good at multitasking.

Today, I practice not trying at all.

Because over time I’ve realized:
multitasking doesn’t really work.

Our awareness can only focus on a small space at once.
When we do several things at the same time,
the essential part is often what disappears.

Maybe the art is not to accomplish more—
but to do one thing fully.

To be present.
Here.

What happens when we truly listen to another person?

Not already thinking about our reply.
Not half absent.
But with an open gaze.

Maybe we remember details later.
Maybe we sense more of what is carried between the words.

Listening not only with our ears.
But also with our heart.

For a long time, I thought of myself as a good listener.
And yes—I do like listening.

But if I’m honest,
there is still so much space to grow.

Often I catch myself:
someone tells me about a problem,
and inside I am already at my solution.

My own stories come up.
My own experiences.

And through these thoughts, I lose my attention
for what the other person is actually sharing.

And because many people experience this, something typical happens in social gatherings:
it suddenly becomes louder.

Not because there is conflict.
But because everyone wants to be heard—
and at some point, no one is truly listening anymore.

That is human.

And still I wonder:

Could we step back more often,
to give others room?

Sometimes I notice almost small competitions for speaking time among friends.

And yet it might be so simple:

Listen more.
Comment less.
Don’t give advice right away.
Just be there first.

Maybe closeness is sometimes created exactly like that:

Through time.
Through attention.

And maybe attention always begins with a small moment of silence.

One breath.
A real presence.

For the other person.
And also for ourselves.

Because when we learn again to truly listen,
something very simple arises:

Calm.
Clarity.
Connection.

And maybe also that quiet place
so many people are longing for:

inner peace.

LUMA – it begins in you.