I did something strange on day 2 of this experience that I’ve never done before.

Went to a restaurant, ordered takeout, and sat there with a pen and paper.

Why?

To seek a deeper connection with my surroundings and listen at a level that requires zero distractions.

This is what I heard:

An upbeat remix of Taylor Swift plays at a volume just a tick above background music but not loud enough to ask the manager to turn it down.

(Full disclosure: I’m a fan of Taylor, not a full-fledged Swiftie, but a fan.)

I’ve never heard this song. If only I had my phone, you better believe I’d have that bad boy pulled out and held up to the speaker so I could Shazaam it.

There’s a child, maybe 3 or 4, crying, not from pain but from the unwillingness to comply with her mom’s plea to sit down. As a dad in this stage of life, I can empathize.

The kitchen is buzzing like only a kitchen can when dinner service starts. It’s only 4:45.

Chefs are clinking pans. Someone is aggressively stacking plates. It feels like whoever is stacking the plates has something else on their mind.

The faint sound of the AC unit cranking.

Waitress (maybe in her early 20s; I’m terrible at guessing the ages of anyone; just ask my wife) welcomes her new guests as they settle in with the standard announcement, “Can I get you something to drink? We have Coke products.”

I wonder, “Why not open with Hi, my name is…?” Oh well, not my table.

Front door could use some WD-40, it creaks every time it opens. Does anyone else notice that?

Every 2 or 3 minutes, the POS system in the distance is humming with new orders coming in.

An older gentleman, maybe 70 or 80, is walking around with a look on his face more intense than Mike Tyson strutting into the ring before a heavyweight fight. He’s having a conversation on his phone through the speaker and is not shy about expressing his displeasure with something that happened earlier.

The young hostess, probably still in high school, wouldn’t make it far in poker – her face has PANIC written all over it. You can tell she’s made a mistake.

It’s as if indecision courses through her veins, not blood.

She accidentally inputted the wrong number into the cash register and has no idea how to correct it. If she only knew how small this mistake was in the grand scheme of life.

Something is being whisked at a frenetic pace in the kitchen, and in rhythm, you can hear the mixer hitting the bowl.

In the bar, alcohol bottles are clanged together by the bartender preparing for the dinner rush. Making sure the labels face the patrons is the only focus for this dialed-in employee as she bounces around the bar like a metal ball in a pinball machine.

I was there for 21 minutes, and that’s what I heard.

Listen and silent go together like Rob & Big. Some of you might not be MTV kids, so I’ll switch up the analogy.

Listen and silent go together like peanut butter & jelly.

They can stand alone, but it’s a perfectly concocted symphony when they come together.

Was I a better listener that day because I wasn’t distracted? Maybe.

But it was the first time I listened to understand, not just respond.

When was the last time you truly listened?

You see, the words differ only in their arrangement, yet they need each other.

LISTEN = SILENT

If you want to listen, you need to be silent. If you want to be silent, you need to listen.