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We live in an attention economy.

In conversations, this can play out in each person’s jockeying—consciously or not—for the attention spotlight, as if attention is a “zero-sum game.” Namely, with the thinking: “If you get more, I get less.”

Often, people do not even wait for a person to finish speaking before changing their mental focus to be on what they want to reply, sometimes—even frequently—not even waiting for the other person to finish a sentence before interrupting to share the thought that is so important it cannot wait.

But what if in conversation we not only waited for the person to finish a thought before we got busy formulating our response, or started talking, but we created space and invited the person to say more, or go deeper in what was being shared?

I suggest we can do this by using the simple phrase: “Tell me more?”

I’ve been experimenting with this and have found that this simple phrase has the power to consistently transform ordinary exchanges into moments of deeper understanding, surprising revelations, trust, and more satisfying connections. And it can be used at almost any time or in any situation—even where the communications seem straightforward, “complete,” or trivial.

One such instance stands out clearly in my memory. A friend of mine with whom I have regular morning walks casually stated one morning as we were finishing our walk, “I really enjoy these walks.” In the past, I likely would have responded with something simple like “I do too.” and both of us would have understood what the other meant and left it at that.

But instead of responding with “I do too,” I said “Tell me more.”

“Well,” he continued, “When I was younger, my parents were often rushing around, and I had the impression that I was mostly an inconvenience to them, and they had more important tasks than me, or knowing what was going on in my world. I think I interpreted that as meaning that I wasn’t that important. When we’re on our walks, there’s a genuine and sustained interest in what’s going on with me.” Here he choked up a bit, and some tears rolled down his cheeks, and he finished “And that’s really important to me.”

Wow! I would have never gotten to that depth and beauty if I hadn’t asked, “Tell me more.”

Below are a few more examples from conversations I’ve had:

A friend and I had just finished seeing a movie, and as we left the theater she said, “I loved that movie.” Instead of just replying “I did too.” I asked “What’d you love about it?”

She slowed down, thought for a moment, and then replied: “The way the main character kept trying, even when no one noticed her. There’s a way in which I guess I’ve felt invisible most of my life. Watching her finally be seen…it felt like something in me was being seen too. And thereby, in some way, healed.”

We went on to have a deep and rich conversation about her upbringing, and mine, childhood wounds, and some of the things we are both doing to heal.

Another time I was walking with a friend by the ocean and he exclaimed, “What a beautiful day!” On some level, of course, I knew exactly what he meant—clear blue skies, warm temperature, a slight breeze, the beautiful Pacific Ocean spread out before us—but I asked him, “What do you like about it?”

With a big smile on his face he said “I think it reminds me of the first day of summer break when I was a kid. That feeling that nothing urgent was chasing me, and the world was mine, carefree, to explore.” I would never have known that beautiful nuance of what the day brought up for him had I not asked.

And then there was a time when a friend was going through a difficult break-up and asked me for some support. After spending some time together she said, “Thank you so much for showing up to support me. It means a lot to me.” An easy (and fine) response would have been “Of course! You’re welcome.” and leave it at that. I know what it means when someone says, “Thank you.” and “It means a lot to me.” so no need to ask for further elaboration.

In fact, it felt somewhat edgy to ask “Tell me more” in that context, when it could be interpreted as asking her to expound on how significant my contribution was, or how important I am. But I kept building the “tell me more” muscle and did ask, “Tell me more. Why did it ‘mean a lot’?”

“I’m not used to people staying when things get messy.” She shrugged. “Growing up, if I was upset, I was ‘too much.’ You didn’t try to fix me. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t try to minimize what was going on with me. That felt…new. And I really appreciate that.”

Her eyes teared up a bit when she shared this, and our connection and care for each other seemed to deepen even more with the additional vulnerability.

With my partner, it turns out, there are many opportunities, for both of us, to go deeper in our communication. One morning I checked in with her about how her morning was going and she said, “I did some journaling today about missing my mom and had a good cry.” One response might have been “Oh, Sweetie, that sounds really hard.” or “Yeah, I miss her too.” But instead, I said “Tell me more. What came up for you?”

She thought for a moment, paused, and then said, “I realized I don’t just miss her. I miss who I was with her. I was somehow more secure. After she died, I think I lost a bit of my confidence and sense of security in the world. It’s as if a foundation that I didn’t even realize I counted on seems to have crumbled away beneath me.” [More tears.]

“Tell me more” uncovers depth and nuance for both the listener and the person sharing. I’m constantly amazed at how impoverished my snap “I know what you mean.” understanding is relative to the depth of nuances and detail that’s just under the surface.

Another benefit is that it cultivates the practice of true empathy, in the sense of getting or understanding “what it’s like for you” as opposed to “what I imagine or assume it’s like for you.” So often in communication—of course—we assume we know what the other person is talking about. But one consequence (and gift, in my estimation) of cultivating the practice of “tell me more” has been realizing how I can miss whole swaths of what it’s actually like for the other person, with depth and nuance and poignancy, that I wouldn’t have known about had I not explored deeper.

And perhaps most significantly, at its core asking someone to “tell you more” communicates to the other person that they matter. I’m not in a rush to get away from you. I have a genuine interest in your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. And you deserve spaciousness and attention.

It’s my belief that the world is hungry for experience of mattering, and cultivating this simple communication practice will do at least a little to heal that wound, one conversation at a time.

~

Enjoy this mindful perspective on deeper, more meaningful conversations? Check out Mark’s previous article where they discuss five scenarios where skillful interruption may be appropriate: