When people express opinions that differ from yours, take it as a

Host: The afternoon light slanted through the library’s tall windows, slicing the dust-filled air into golden shafts. The room was silent except for the occasional rustle of a page, the soft click of old radiators, and the whisper of time itself. Books lined the walls like silent witnesses—thousands of voices, all waiting to be heard, not defended against.

Host: At a long oak table, Jack sat hunched, a stack of books before him, his hands clasped around a cup of black coffee gone cold. Jeeny sat opposite him, her notebook open, her pen still, her eyes—soft but fierce—studying him with quiet patience.

Host: The sunlight caught in the edges of her hair, turning it into a dark halo. Outside, the wind carried the faint sound of children laughing, as if innocence itself were trying to break into the room.

Jack: reading aloud, voice low “When people express opinions that differ from yours, take it as a chance to grow… seek to understand over being understood…” He scoffs, setting the book down. “Sounds nice on paper, Jeeny. But in the real world, that kind of attitude gets you eaten alive.”

Jeeny: smiles faintly “Or maybe it’s the only thing that keeps you human while the world forgets how to be.”

Jack: “Human? You call letting people talk you in circles human? You call letting someone walk all over your beliefs growth?”

Jeeny: “No. I call it listening. There’s a difference.”

Host: The silence between them was like glass—clear, fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest word.

Jack: “Listening doesn’t change facts, Jeeny. If someone believes the earth is flat, I don’t have to understand them. I have to correct them.”

Jeeny: “But you can’t correct what you don’t understand. You can only attack it. And once you attack, they stop listening, too.”

Host: The clock on the wall ticked louder than before, marking each second of stubbornness.

Jack: “So what—every time someone says something stupid, I’m supposed to nod and smile and pretend I’m learning?”

Jeeny: “No, you’re supposed to listen long enough to know why they think it. That’s what Glennon Doyle meant—‘the only way to disarm another human being is by listening.’ Not agreeing, Jack. Disarming.”

Jack: “Disarm? You think we’re at war?”

Jeeny: quietly “Aren’t we?”

Host: Her words fell like stones into the still air, leaving ripples that reached the corners of the room. Jack looked at her, brows furrowed, as if trying to see the battlefield she spoke of.

Jack: “If we’re at war, Jeeny, it’s a war of truth. And truth doesn’t need to disarm—it needs to defend itself.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. Truth doesn’t need defense. It needs voice. It stands on its own when we stop shouting long enough to hear it.”

Host: The light from the window had shifted now, falling in a long stripe across the table, dividing them in shadow and gold.

Jack: “You talk like people want to be understood. They don’t. Most of them just want to win.”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But that’s because they’ve never been heard. We fight when we’re afraid. We raise our voices because we don’t trust anyone’s listening.”

Host: Jeeny’s tone was gentle, but it stung. The kind of truth that doesn’t bruise—it blooms under the skin.

Jack: “You’re telling me to listen to people who hate what I stand for? Who’d tear it down if they could?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Especially them.”

Jack: snaps “That’s madness.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. That’s mercy.”

Host: Her words hung there, soft but unyielding, like a candle refusing to be snuffed out in a storm.

Jack: “Mercy doesn’t build a world that works. It’s naive. You think Gandhi stopped the British with mercy? Or that Martin Luther King changed America by listening?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. They did. They listened—even to their enemies. They didn’t fight back with fists, Jack, but with ears. Gandhi said, ‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.’ MLK said, ‘Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.’ They didn’t win by shouting louder. They won by standing still and hearing even the hatred that came at them.”

Jack: “And they suffered for it.”

Jeeny: “And they changed the world because of it.”

Host: A ray of sunlight shifted, catching a thin trail of dust, turning it into a tiny constellation between them. The air felt holy, heavy with the echo of names too sacred to say lightly.

Jack: “You know what listening gets you in this world? Misunderstood. Manipulated. Overlooked. You hesitate for one second, and someone else takes the stage.”

Jeeny: “Maybe that’s the problem, Jack. Everyone’s fighting for the stage. No one’s tending the audience.”

Jack: “You’re turning this into poetry. The world doesn’t run on poetry.”

Jeeny: “No, but it heals with it.”

Host: He looked at her then—not like a man debating—but like a man standing at the edge of something deep, something that both terrified and tempted him.

Jack: “So, I should just let people say whatever they want? Even when it’s wrong? Even when it hurts?”

Jeeny: “No. You let them finish. That’s all listening means. You let them finish before you begin. Because sometimes the last sentence they say changes everything about the first.”

Host: The sunlight had faded to amber, and the room now glowed like a memory.

Jack: quietly now “You think listening can really disarm someone?”

Jeeny: “It disarmed you, didn’t it?”

Jack: smirks faintly “Maybe a little.”

Jeeny: “Because listening says, ‘You’re safe.’ And when people feel safe, they stop fighting. Isn’t that what we all want, Jack? To stop fighting?”

Host: The clock ticked, but slower now, as if time itself had softened.

Jack: “You know… I spend so much time trying to be understood. I never stopped to think what it would feel like to just understand.”

Jeeny: “That’s where growth begins.”

Jack: “And what about the ones who won’t listen back?”

Jeeny: “Then you’ve still won. Because you’ve chosen peace over pride.”

Host: The library had grown darker, the light from the lamps now pooling softly on the table, like the afterglow of a long conversation.

Jack: “So, to disarm another human being… you don’t fight. You don’t shout. You just listen.”

Jeeny: “Yes. Because the moment you listen, you stop being enemies. You start being human again.”

Host: She closed her notebook, the sound gentle but final. Jack stared at her for a long moment, his eyes distant, as if he were hearing not her words, but the echo of his own silences.

Host: Outside, the children’s laughter had stopped, replaced by the evening breeze that murmured through the trees. The world seemed to breathe again.

Jack: softly “Maybe you’re right, Jeeny. Maybe the strongest argument isn’t made with words—but with ears.”

Jeeny: “And the truest victory isn’t winning—it’s understanding.”

Host: The last light of the day slipped through the window, resting on their faces, two shadows turned gold. Somewhere beyond the walls, a bell rang in the distance—slow, deliberate, like a heartbeat rediscovered.

Host: And in that moment, the world didn’t need to be right or wrong—it just needed to be heard.