"Shut Up and Listen to the Other Guy"

Have any of you had to talk to someone who won't listen to what you say? If you haven't you're probably the person who won't listen. You could be both.
It's a really big problem. Everywhere.
The internet, religion, politics, training methods, who cleaned the bathroom last, ect.. It can be about the most unimportant things.
I was talking to a group of elderly people one Sunday with a bunch of friends, and we asked them, "If you could say one thing to the younger generation, what would it be?" One man piped up and said, "Shut up and listen to the other guy."
His word could not be more true. We, as humans, have a really hard time doing that. Our opinion is so important, that it has to be said NOW, and it can't wait to be said until the other person has finished. Do you have any idea how easy it is to have a calm discussion if you let people rant and rave about whatever they feel they need to rant and rave about before you say a word? One at a time though. It can solve quite a bit of frustration.
Here's a story from "Whole Heart, Whole Horse" by Mark Rashid on this topic. If you haven't read this book you should, and if you have, you should read it again. It's very good.
The scene is of Mark Rashid as a young boy working with "the Old Man" at the old man's place on a hot day.

"Whoever was coming up the drive must have been in a hurry, because they didn't waste any time getting from the gate to the barn. We could hear the telltale sound of a four-barrel carburetor opening up as the driver floored the accelerator. WoaaAAAH, screamed the engine as the vehicle left the road over a quarter mile away, throwing dirt and rocks up against the wooden gate and sending a huge cloud of dust billowing into the air.
In no time at all the Ford was in front of the barn, sliding sideways and screeching to a stop. 'Hmm,' the old man said. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that was also soaked with sweat and too wet to light. He grimaced a little at the prospect of not being able to get a smoke in, put the soggy pack back in his pocket, and walked outside.
By this time the car's driver was stomping toward the barn. He was a short, slightly heavyset man, not really fat, but not thing either, wearing knee-length shorts, brown penny loafers with white socks, an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt with red and white vertical strips, and a white t-shirt underneath that. Both shirts were wet with sweat. His dark hair was plastered to his head, which made it hard to tell if it was just wet from him sweating or if he was wearing some kind of hair cream, which was all the rage back then.
'You the owner of this place?' the fellow half shouted as the old man walked past him toward his old pickup truck. In his hurry, the fellow overshot the old man slightly and had to stop himself in mid-stride so he could turn and follow.
'yup,' the old man said quietly, as he continued walking.
'then I got a bone to pick with you.' The man was mad, and getting madder.
'Well...' The old man opened his truck door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that was sitting on the seat. 'Go ahead.'
'You sold my wife a horse,' the fellow shouted as the old man nonchalantly turned toward him, pulled a cigarette from the pack, and lit it. 'And I want you to take it back.'
'Which one:' the old man asked quietly as a puff of bluish smoke rolled out of his mouth.
'What?' the fellow angrily questioned.
'Which horse?' the old man repeated.
'What?' the fellow asked again.
'Which horse did I sell her?' The old man started walking back toward the barn.
'Which horse? hell, I don't know...'
'You mind if we talk in the barn?' the old man interrupted. 'It's not much cooler in there, but at least it's out of the sun.'
The fellow stopped dead in his tracks, as if not knowing what to say next. The old man turned toward him and motioned for him to follow, which the fellow finally did.
'Mind if I ask your name?' the old man interrupted.
'What?' the question shot out of the fellow's mouth.
'Your name...; the old man repeated quietly. 'What's your name?'
'Wheeler.' The fellow said it as if he wasn't sure himself. 'George Wheeler. My wife's name is Maggie. You sold her a horse a couple months ago... a grown horse.'
'Yes... a couple months ago. I remember,' the old man nodded. 'A sorrel gelding named Booker.' He paused. 'Nice horse. Your wife seemed to get along with him pretty good when she came to take a look at him. Is she having a problem with him?'
'No,' Wheeler blurted. ' I just want you to take him back!'
'He's not lame or sick or anything?' The old man asked.
Wheeler stopped talking for a second and stood looking down at the old man from his standing position just inside the barn door. 'Not that I know of...' HIs voice was quieter, as if he was finally trying to control himself.
'Well, now,' the old man said, wiping the sweat form his brow with his already sweat-soaked sleeve. 'I suppose you know I can't just take a horse back for no good reason... specially a horse that was bought and sold in good faith.' He pulled the handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from inside his hat once again. 'Now if she was to have a good reason for me to take the good gelding back, I reckon give it a little thought and maybe see if we could work something out that would be a benefit to both of us.'
Wheeler stood quietly for what seemed like a long time before he spoke. 'What happened,' he finally said, 'was she bought him without asking me first.'
'I see,' the old man nodded. 'Spent some of your  money without telling you, eh?
'Well, no... it was her money.' There was suddenly a slightly sheepish tone in his voice. The old man took another drag from his cigarette and made firm, intentional eye contact with Wheeler. I knew that look all too well. I had seen it many times in the past, usually when I had verbally painted myself in a corner with him in one way or another. It was the look that said, 'Why don't you give what you're saying here just a little more thought before we continue with this discussion?'
'Well, Mr. Wheeler.' The old man slowly lifted himself from the hay bale and walked slowly toward the now slightly red-faced man standing by the door. 'I appreciate you coming all the way out here to have this visit.' As the old man got to where Wheeler was, he gently placed his gnarled hand on Wheeler's shoulder and softly turned him back  in the direction of the station wagon. 'I'm confident you and the Missus will be ale to come to a reasonable solution to this situation.' He quietly guided Wheeler all the way out to his car, with Wheeler looking just like I always felt when the old man would point out how ridiculous something I had just said was.
The old man opened the car door, and Wheeler slid in behind the steering wheel. 'That's a pretty nice gelding she got herself. And if I remember, she rides him real well, too. Now I ain't never  one to get into someone else's business, but I do know you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.' The old man closed the car door. 'Thanks again for coming out, and please give my best to the Missus.'
The old man turned to walk away as Wheeler, looking for all he was worth like a puppy that had just been scolded for peeing on the carpet, started up the Ford.
'Oh, and by the way...' The old man turned back toward the car as if he had suddenly remembered something. 'If you could drive out just a little slower than you came in, I'd sure appreciate it.'
As Wheeler turned and slowly drove down the driveway toward the road, the old man turned toward the barn.
'Too damn hot to fight today anyway.' There was just a hint of a Cheshire cat smile on his face as he walked passed me."

The old man's calmness defused the situation.
Mark Rashid goes on to explain how when you interact with someone or something, together your energies should equal ten. If one of you has a higher energy than the other than one of you needs to have a lower energy, and vice versa.
The same goes with horses. If your horse is freaking out you need to not freak out. If your horse is really lazy you need to raise your energy to get him to not be so lazy.
Mark Rashid explains it way better than I do and goes into more detail.
It will not be easy to control yourself and not get emotionally involved in a situation. It can be done though.

Keep Calm and Ride Your Horse,
Lydia Johnson