My least favorite thing or my pet peeve would be people who

Hear now the words of Israel Adesanya, the fighter and philosopher of our age, who declared: “My least favorite thing or my pet peeve would be people who literally ignore the other people you’re with, or the situation, and they just dive right in and cut off the conversation.” Though spoken plainly, these words reveal a truth older than empires: that to dishonor conversation is to dishonor the spirit itself, for dialogue is the bridge between souls. To interrupt without care, to disregard the presence of others, is not a small offense—it is a fracture of respect, a wound to the shared rhythm of human connection.

The ancients revered the art of conversation. Socrates wandered the streets of Athens, not to conquer with weapons, but with questions. His dialogues were dances of thought, each partner given space to speak, to pause, to answer. To cut such dialogue short was to strangle wisdom before it could be born. Adesanya’s pet peeve is no trivial complaint—it is a reminder that conversation is sacred, that it requires patience, humility, and honor. To seize it rudely is to show not strength, but poverty of spirit.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, famed not only for his leadership but for his listening. In the darkest days of war, he gathered voices from every side, even those who opposed him. He allowed them to speak in full, never cutting them off, for he knew that truth often hides in the second half of a sentence. His greatness lay not only in what he said, but in what he allowed others to say. Had he been one who “cut off the conversation,” his legacy would not be wisdom, but arrogance.

In Adesanya’s words, we are also warned against the vice of self-centeredness. The one who ignores the situation, who forces his voice above others, is not merely impatient—he reveals that he values his own presence above the shared moment. He dishonors the group, as though their voices were noise and his alone were music. But the wise know that conversation is a symphony, not a solo, and its beauty lies in the harmony of voices, not the dominance of one.

The deeper meaning here is about respect for presence. When we gather, each person brings more than words—they bring stories, feelings, and unseen struggles. To cut them off is to declare those stories unworthy, those struggles invisible. Adesanya, though a warrior in the cage, here shows the heart of a sage: that the battlefield of conversation is not to be conquered by interruption, but to be honored with patience.

The lesson is clear: if you would be respected, first learn to respect. Listen fully before you speak. Honor the presence of all in the room, not only the loudest or the closest. Let the conversation flow as a river, and when you enter it, do so gently, merging with its current rather than damming it with force. In this way, you will build bonds stronger than any words spoken hastily.

Practically, this means cultivating awareness in speech. Pause before entering a dialogue; ask yourself if the moment is yours to take. Watch the faces of others, listen to their rhythm, and join only when the space opens. If you find yourself cutting in, step back, apologize, and listen again. Such small acts restore respect, and over time, they create a reputation not of arrogance, but of wisdom.

So let these words endure: “Do not cut the conversation, but honor it.” Adesanya’s wisdom calls us to remember that dialogue is the thread that binds human hearts. Break it carelessly, and you fray the bond. Protect it with respect, and you weave together a tapestry of trust, wisdom, and lasting connection.