Monkey Salvation
The Art and Science of True Leadership Listening
Most leaders hear. Few truly listen.
"What on earth are you doing?" said I to the monkey when I saw him lift a fish from the water and place it on a tree.
"I am saving it from drowning," was the reply.
Can you see it? The sun that gives sight to the eagle blinds the owl. In other words; What brings clarity to one can create blindness in another.
"Absurd, isn't it? Yet, in leadership, as in friendship and parenthood, how often does this scenario play out? Driven by urgency and expertise, leaders frequently rush, with the best of intentions, to provide their solutions without genuinely understanding the issue at hand.”
They become the monkey, their team the fish.
The meaning of this parable is profound. Solutions, well-intentioned though they may be, are often misguided when leaders fail to truly understand the nature of the issue or the unique circumstances faced by their team members. The monkey’s ignorance of the fish's different natural environment—a place where the fish thrives—highlights how imposing solutions based solely on one's own perspective can cause unintended harm rather than help.
The leader. Or the monkey?
Emma was the kind of CEO everyone admired—sharp, driven, deeply caring. She’d built her company from the ground up and led with an open door and an open heart.
But something wasn’t working.
Her leadership team—once vibrant, engaged, solution-oriented - had grown quiet. Ideas dried up. Conversations turned surface-level. And behind closed doors, the feedback was consistent: “Emma means well, but she doesn’t really listen.”
This confused her. After all, wasn’t she always available? Didn’t she spend hours in meetings trying to help? Didn’t she offer insights, strategies, shortcuts to sidestep mistakes?
She did. And that was the problem.
Emma, unknowingly, had become the monkey from the parable, plucking her team out of their natural currents and placing them where she thought they'd thrive. Because that was where she thrived herself. Her solutions were clever. But they weren’t theirs.
She was solving the wrong problems, because she wasn’t asking what the problem was in the first place. Instead of creating space for her leaders to find their own clarity, she filled the silence with strategy. And so they stopped bringing real questions. They stopped owning the growth. They began to drown, quietly, in disengagement.
Is Emma’s situation a 'problem'? Or simply a lack of clarity?
I would call this a conditioned response masquerading as leadership. A mind conditioned to act, but untrained to truly see.
What if we drop the entire premise of 'problem-solving' as an externally imposed act. Instead, ask yourself: can you look without distortion?
That’s the shift.
Leadership, then, becomes the art of presence, not projection. The art of seeing what is without the noise of what you think should be. Of being with someone, not above them.
A situation isn’t a problem to fix, but a mirror to look into. By doing so, you don’t just solve the problem, you shift perspective and dissolve its illusion. Clarity unravels the root cause. When you see clearly, intervention becomes unnecessary. Insight leads the way, and action follows, not as a command, but as a consequence. And once someone sees for themselves, they move, not because they were told, but because it makes sense.
From this lens, listening isn’t a technique. It’s a way of not interfering. It’s not strategic silence. It’s internal stillness.
When Emma finally stopped offering answers and began asking, gently, “What do you need from me in this moment?” something changed. Her team began to breathe again. Ideas returned. So did ownership.
She had stopped lifting the fish from the water. And instead, she had begun to see the ocean.
What Emma discovered isn’t just anecdotal, it’s deeply rooted in science.
The science of true listening
Listening deeply is not hearing more, it’s hearing differently. Neuroscientist Uri Hasson explains that genuine listening creates neural synchrony—a state where the listener’s brain patterns closely mirror those of the speaker. This synchronization fosters profound empathy and authentic understanding, essential for building trust and psychological safety within teams.
Why does this synchronization foster trust and safety?
Louis Cozolino, in The Neuroscience of Human Relationships (2014), emphasizes that attuned, present listening activates neural systems responsible for attachment, empathy, and relational security, significantly reinforcing interpersonal bonds and trust.
Carl Rogers, in Client-Centered Therapy (1951), established that deep, non-directive listening provides the optimal conditions for personal growth by making individuals feel genuinely understood and valued.
When individuals feel genuinely safe and heard, their defenses naturally lower, facilitating openness and vulnerability. This state allows for the authentic exchange of deeper, essential information, enabling listeners to guide speakers towards their own meaningful insights and solutions.
Why is it that defenses naturally lower in such moments?
Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory clarifies this phenomenon: feeling safely heard engages the parasympathetic nervous system, inducing calmness, openness, and receptivity. Conversely, interruptions or unsolicited advice trigger defensive responses, limiting genuine communication.
Stephen Covey, in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, famously advises, "Seek first to understand, then to be understood." This practice hinges on true listening, which, as mentioned above, cultivates feelings of trust and safety, opening the path for both listener and speaker to appreciate and integrate diverse perspectives meaningfully.
Consequences of Shallow Listening
In contrast, shallow or response-driven listening—listening solely to respond or fix—disrupts neural alignment. The listener’s attention is divided between truly hearing and formulating responses, reducing neural synchrony and inhibiting empathic attunement (Zaki & Ochsner, 2012). It leads to frustration, disengagement, and diminished collaboration.
Listening isn’t fixing; it’s serving.
Simon Sinek captures this succinctly in his iconic phrase: “Leaders eat last.” Effective leadership isn't about racing to provide the quickest answer; it’s about pausing deliberately to genuinely understand others’ needs first.
Erich Fromm called this skill "complete concentration"—the disciplined art of setting aside your thoughts, ego, and biases to authentically tune into another’s perspective. This practice of focused empathy is rare yet profoundly transformative.
Deliberate listening practices
Psychologist Carl Rogers championed "active listening" as a cornerstone of effective human connection. Rogers emphasized the power of unconditional positive regard—listening without judgment—to empower individuals and facilitate genuine growth.
Harvard professor Amy Edmondson highlights that effective teams thrive in environments characterized by psychological safety, fostered largely through active listening. Leaders who deliberately practice listening enhance their team's innovation, resilience, and commitment.
Before you speak, deliberately ask yourself:
Does this person simply need the space to be heard and validated?
Are they seeking a partnership to co-create clarity?
Or do they genuinely need your perspective and guidance?
By clearly setting your intention, you transform ordinary interactions into powerful exchanges of clarity and trust.
Intentional listening separates true leaders from mere managers. It elevates your leadership from reactive fixing to responsive serving.
Next time you sense urgency to solve, pause. Ensure you’re not pulling the fish from its water. Instead, become the leader who listens, aligns, and empowers.
Because when people feel genuinely heard, their mindset shifts From ‘I need saving’ to ‘I know the next step’, transforming them from dependent problem-presenters into empowered, confident solution-creators.
In another conversation, I offered this to a client who felt crushed under constant emotional tension:
“You’re not broken,” I said. “You’r just in conflict with yourself.”
He looked confused until I shared this:
A man once took great pride in his lawn, but it was plagued by dandelions. He tried every method he could to get rid of them. Nothing worked.
Eventually, he wrote to the Department of Agriculture asking, “What else can I try?”
Their reply was simple: “We suggest you learn to love them.”
Like dandelions, your emotions will keep showing up.
The more you fight them, the more they spread.
Stop fighting them, start understanding them.
