Are You Really as Open-Minded as You Think?
- Carey Marshall
- Jun 22
- 5 min read
I’ve been told—more than once—that I ask a lot of questions. Some have found it endearing; others… not so much. Over the years, I’ve been labeled “nosy” more times than I can count. But I prefer a different term: incessantly curious.
If you turn the tables and ask me about something I’m passionate about, I’ll light up and talk your ear off. (You might even regret asking!) But truthfully, in most conversations, I prefer to be the one listening. It’s where I feel most comfortable, most alive. I love learning what makes people tick—how they became who they are, what drives them, what scares them, what keeps them awake at night.
As long as the conversation goes deeper than small talk, I’m in my happy place. No topic is too much. One-on-one conversations are my favorite, and even in a crowded room, you’ll find me off in a corner with one person, completely immersed in their story.
It’s not lost on me that this tendency fits perfectly with my role as a life coach. My primary tool isn’t giving advice—it’s asking the right questions. In coaching, we call it “reflective inquiry”—a process that helps people dig within themselves to find the answers they already hold. My job is to guide them, gently surfacing the obstacles that cloud their inner wisdom.
And here’s the thing: I never realized how much of a gift listening is until I encountered someone who was just as curious about me. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it feels like a soul-level exhale. Being listened to—really listened to—is rare and sacred.
Sometimes I wonder: if more of us became better listeners, would therapists and coaches be out of business? After all, many people pay for an hour of empathetic, judgment-free listening. Sure, mental health professionals are essential for clinical diagnoses and treatment. But for so many of us, what we’re really craving is someone to sit with us, hear us, and hold space for our humanity.
What if we made it our daily practice to truly listen to one another? Could the world become a softer, more connected place—one where people feel seen, less alone, and safe simply because we chose to lead with curiosity? Could listening bring more peace to the world?
I believe this is one of the most essential skills we can cultivate. At the heart of compassion and empathy is a willingness to understand—especially those who show up in the world differently than we do. Different beliefs. Different habits. Different backgrounds, bank accounts, and worldviews.
But when we don’t understand someone, our brains tend to fill in the gaps. We make up stories—sometimes without even realizing it.
Take the workplace, for example. When a higher-up makes a decision that affects us, it’s far easier to stand around the break room speculating about their motives than it is to ask questions or seek understanding. Few people are willing to step into the discomfort of a direct conversation with leadership. Instead, we feed off the dopamine hit of complaint and victimhood. Our brains love shortcuts—and gossip is often the shortcut of choice.
The same thing happens in everyday life and online spaces. We see someone who looks, thinks, or acts differently than we do, and our minds jump to conclusions. We categorize. We assume. We fear.
And fear is the birthplace of division.
When we let fear run the show, we stop being curious. We stop listening. We stop seeing people as individuals and start sorting them into “us” and “them.” And once we’re locked into that team mentality, empathy becomes conditional—only extended to those who think, live, and act like we do.
But empathy was never meant to be reserved for the familiar. It was meant to reach across lines, soften hearts, and remind us that we all carry stories worth understanding.
What if we chose that instead?
Empathy doesn’t require agreement. You don’t need to share someone’s values, lifestyle, or decisions in order to treat them with dignity, compassion, and respect. True empathy isn’t about moral alignment—it’s about human connection.

This kind of deep, respectful empathy is only possible when we slow down long enough to understand the experiences and obstacles others face. And that understanding starts with curiosity—a willingness to ask thoughtful questions and listen without judgment.
When we create safe, open spaces for people to share their stories, something beautiful happens: we begin to realize that we have far more in common with those who seem different from us than we ever imagined. Beneath the surface, we all long to be seen, heard, and known.
Practical Listening Techniques to Cultivate Empathy:
Reflective Listening: Repeat back what the person said in your own words to confirm understanding. (“What I hear you saying is…”)
Ask Open-Ended Questions: Instead of yes/no questions, ask things like “What was that like for you?” or “How did that experience shape you?”
Be Present: Put away distractions. Maintain eye contact. Use body language that shows attentiveness and care.
Suspend Judgment: Don’t rush to offer advice or form opinions. Let the person speak their truth without trying to fix or critique it.
Notice Your Reactions: Pay attention to when you feel uncomfortable or defensive—those are growth moments.
Journal Prompts to Explore Your Empathy:
When was the last time I truly listened to someone without interrupting or offering advice? How did it feel?
Who in my life do I struggle to understand? What might their story be?
In what situations do I find it hardest to offer empathy? Why?
What assumptions do I make about people who are different from me?
How can I create safer spaces for others to share openly with me?
In closing, here’s something to reflect on:
The same values and convictions that drive your decisions are likely the very same forces motivating the people you disagree with—just pointed in a different direction. Most of us believe we're doing what's right based on the lens through which we've lived—our beliefs, experiences, traumas, and pain. And yet, it’s incredibly difficult to step outside our own perspective long enough to truly consider what shaped someone else’s.
But what if we tried? What if we slowed down long enough to ask, “What brought you here?” instead of assuming we already know?
I challenge you to consider: where in your life could you reach across the lines of disagreement or discomfort? Where could you replace assumptions with empathetic questions, and fear with curiosity?
When was the last time you sat down for a genuine, open-hearted conversation with someone who sees the world completely differently than you do? That single brave step—coffee with someone outside your comfort zone—might be the beginning of a more peaceful world.
It starts small.
It starts with you.
And it starts with the courage to listen.
Sending Love, Carey
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