Bellow: (v) to emit a deep loud roar, typically in pain or anger.
I do not really want to hear what you have to say about how you hear what I have to say.
That’s the truth.
All my ways seem right to me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t do them because then I would have to admit I was wrong. That also can be very painful.
But somewhere along this journey we call life, we have to realize that we are not alone and our opinions not only fail to be superior, but in many cases, are insignificant.
I may have a conversation with my children, my friends or my partners in business and feel that I have a completely rational tone, filled with reasonable proposals. Yet if I asked them what they are hearing, they will explain that they feel intimidated, criticized and even might perceive my approach to be “bellowing.”
In response to their accusations, I bellow, “I am not bellowing!”
I’m not so sure what ultimate maturity is supposed to look like. I’m not positive that I understand all aspects of human relationships, or even could write a decent pamphlet on the subject.
But I know this:
If another human being tells me that they hear me bellowing at them, attacking them or expressing displeasure in their direction, the only way to ever maintain that friendship is to listen to what they are proposing … and at least consider that the volume coming back my way is much less than what they’re hearing.