This is a transcript of my podcast Moment by Moment, Episode 3: The Art of Dialogue: Talking and Listening that Transforms. You can listen to it here: https://www.paulwhitehead.co.uk/podcast/episode/27747e6a/episode-3-the-art-of-dialogue-talking-and-listening-that-transforms. You can also listen to the podcast on Spotify.
Opening Poem
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
doesn’t make any sense.”
Hello, and welcome to today’s episode of Moment by Moment - A Gestalt Therapy podcast where we explore Gestalt therapy, spirituality, and the richness of our moment-to-moment lived experience. In this episode we explore one of many techniques in gestalt therapy: the art of dialogue.
I wanted to start today’s podcast with this beautiful poem by Rumi, a poet whose words never fail to move me.
Introduction
This poem speaks to something profound: the possibility of real connection. Rumi invites us to step “out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing,” asking us to set aside the judgments and labels we often place on ourselves and others.
But how do we do that? How do we meet someone in that open, judgment-free space? How do we connect without the weight of assumptions, fears, or expectations?
For me, it starts with feeling safe and secure within myself. When I feel grounded, it’s so much easier to meet others as they truly are, without labeling them as right or wrong. This openness—this curiosity—is what makes genuine connection possible.
Dialogue in Gestalt Therapy
In Gestalt therapy, this kind of open and transformative connection has a name: dialogue. Dialogue isn’t just about speaking; it’s about truly engaging with someone else in a way that allows both of you to be changed by the interaction.
Martin Buber’s Perspective
The theologian Martin Buber described this beautifully:
“The presupposition for the rise of genuine dialogue is that each should regard his partner as the very one he is. I become aware of him, aware that he is different, essentially different from myself, in the definitive, unique way which is peculiar to him, and I accept whom I thus see, so that in full I can direct what I say to him as the person he is”
If we put the older, gendered language to one side, Buber’s point is clear: to have a true dialogue, we need to truly see the other person as they are—not as we imagine them to be, and not through the lens of who we think they should be.
It’s a simple idea, but it’s not always easy to put into practice. Still, when we do, it opens the door to a kind of connection that feels rare and deeply meaningful.
Existentialism and the Relational Self
Buber’s ideas have deeply influenced Gestalt therapy, as has the philosophical movement of existentialism. Thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre famously said that “existence precedes essence,” which means our sense of self isn’t fixed or predetermined. Instead, who we are is shaped by our relationships and experiences.
We’re not isolated beings. Our very existence depends on how we relate to the world and the people around us. Martin Heidegger, a student of Husserl, described us as “beings in the world.” He also talked about “thrownness”—the fact that we’re born into a specific set of circumstances we didn’t choose. Heidegger believed this “thrownness” is a fundamental source of human anxiety.
Contact and the Other
When we truly see another person as unique, we meet them at what Gestalt therapy calls the contact boundary. This is the space where "me" meets "not me," where we interact with the world or another person. The contact boundary is always shifting, and it’s in this space that connection and growth can happen.
In Gestalt therapy, meaningful change doesn’t come from giving advice or interpreting someone’s experience. Instead, it happens through genuine contact—where both people, therapist and client, are open to being affected by one another. Sometimes, this contact happens through words, but it can also unfold in silence, movement, art, or other forms of nonverbal communication.
Non-Verbal Dialogue
For instance, if a client sits with their arms tightly crossed, I might gently ask, “What’s happening in your arms right now?” or “If your arms could speak, what might they say?” Our bodies often express feelings that words can’t capture, and by paying attention to these cues, we can create a dialogue that goes beyond language.
Willingness to Understand the Other
True dialogue also requires a genuine effort to understand how someone else sees the world—while staying true to our own perspective. Martin Buber described those rare, transformative moments of connection as “I-Thou” encounters. These moments can’t be forced; they happen naturally, almost as if by grace.
Most of the time, though, we experience what Buber called “I-It” relationships. These are interactions where we relate to others as objects or roles, rather than as unique individuals. This way of relating is often practical and necessary for daily life, but if it dominates, it can lead to prejudice and dehumanisation. As Buber put it:
“...all living is a meeting. There is no ‘I’ that stands alone, but only the I of an I-It and the I of I-Thou. Without ‘It,’ a human being cannot live. But whoever lives with only that is not human”
Whoever lives with only “I-It” relationships is not truly human!
I-It Relationships
We all relate in the “I-It” way, and it’s necessary in many situations. It’s how we make sense of the world—categorising and organising people into roles or groups instead of seeing them as individuals.
For example, generalisations can be helpful when trying to support specific groups, like people living with certain illnesses or members of particular communities. These assumptions allow us to create large-scale changes that would be impossible otherwise. But if we lean too heavily on this way of relating, it can come at a cost. We risk losing sight of each person’s unique humanity. Stereotypes take over, and people get reduced to categories instead of being seen for who they really are.
This makes me think of a chilling quote by Joseph Stalin:
“A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths are a statistic.”
It’s a stark reminder of how easy it is to lose the individual in the bigger picture.
Balancing I-It and I-Thou
What really matters is finding a balance. The I-It perspective is practical and helps us navigate daily life, but we can’t live fully without those deeper I-Thou connections—moments when we meet someone as they truly are and allow ourselves to be moved by the encounter.
I try to remind myself of this balance often. The functional I-It helps us get things done, but the I-Thou makes life feel rich and meaningful. It’s where true connection lives, and it’s what makes us human.
Talking and Listening in Therapy
This brings us back to today’s topic: dialogue. At its core, dialogue is about both talking and listening—and both are equally important.
Let’s start with listening. What does it really mean to listen? And why is it so hard to truly hear someone else?
In my therapy practice, listening often goes beyond just hearing words. I sometimes use creative tools like art, writing, or meditation to help clients explore their feelings and build awareness. These approaches can open up new ways of expressing what’s inside.
But at its heart, therapy is simple: one person—the client—talks and the therapist listens and responds. The magic of therapy lies in this dynamic. It’s about creating a space where the client feels free to speak openly, while the therapist responds with care and curiosity.
Freud’s "Fundamental Rule
To understand how this focus on talking began, we can look back to Sigmund Freud. In 1913, Freud introduced what he called the "fundamental rule" of psychoanalysis. He believed that clients needed the freedom to talk about whatever came to mind—without worrying about how it sounded or whether it made logical sense.
Freud even imagined what a therapist might say to a client during their first session:
“One thing before you start. What you tell me must differ in one respect from an ordinary conversation. Ordinarily, you rightly try to keep a connecting thread running through your remarks and exclude any intrusive ideas that may occur to you and any side issues, so as not to wander too far from the point. But in this case, you must proceed differently. You will notice that as you relate things, various thoughts will occur to you which you would like to put aside on the ground of certain criticisms and objections. You'll be tempted to say to yourself that this or that is irrelevant here, or it's quite unimportant, or nonsensical, so that there is no need to say it. You must never give into these criticisms, but say it in spite of them—indeed, you must do so precisely because you feel an aversion to doing so.
Act as though, for instance, you were travelers sitting next to the window of a railway carriage and describing to someone inside the carriage the changing view which you see outside.
Finally, never forget that you've promised to be absolutely honest, and you never leave anything out because, for some reason or other, it is unpleasant to tell it.”
I love this quote. It’s such a beautiful invitation to honesty—a reminder to speak freely, without holding back or editing yourself.
Why Speaking Freely Is Hard
Freud understood, though, how hard this can be. He even acknowledged that clients would stop following this rule at some point in therapy. Why? Because speaking without filtering goes against so much of what we’re used to.
We’re taught to present ourselves in a certain way—to fit into the image we think others expect of us, or even our image of ourselves. Letting go of that is hard.
But when we do, something special happens. Speaking freely—without filtering—can reveal truths we didn’t even realise existed. The act of talking brings clarity, like shining a light on parts of ourselves we’d kept hidden.
It’s a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of speaking can be transformative.
The Power of Honest Speech
But let’s be honest—speaking from the heart is also one of the hardest things we can do. There are so many reasons why it feels difficult, many tied to our emotions and the ways the world around us has shaped us.
The Fear of Judgment and Rejection
One of the biggest obstacles is fear of being judged or rejected. Sharing the vulnerable parts of ourselves—our shame, guilt, or anger—can feel terrifying. We might worry that we’ll be misunderstood or even cast out for revealing those parts of who we are.
Vulnerability can feel incredibly risky. In therapy, for example, clients are encouraged to open up emotionally, but if they’ve experienced betrayal or broken trust in the past, it’s no wonder they hesitate. Feeling safe enough to share takes time.
The Challenge of Identifying Emotions
For some, the challenge isn’t just sharing their feelings—it’s figuring out what those feelings are. In my experience, many people have learned to suppress or disconnect from their emotions, making it difficult to put those feelings into words.
Cultural and social norms often make this even harder. In some families or communities, expressing emotions—especially "negative" ones like sadness or anger—is seen as a weakness. Over time, this can lead to habits of holding back, even in spaces like therapy meant for openness.
The Pressure to Appear Positive
Another obstacle I’ve noticed is the pressure always to appear positive. It feels like there’s an unspoken rule to make life look perfect, even when it’s not. We see it in how people end texts with smiley faces or curate their social media to show only the best moments. This constant pressure to “keep up appearances” can make honest sharing almost impossible.
The Fear of Consequences
Then there’s the fear of what might happen if we let our guard down. Many people worry that expressing difficult emotions could lead to uncomfortable changes—shifts in relationships, lifestyle, or even their sense of self. Feelings of shame or embarrassment can also make us avoid certain topics entirely, fearing being seen as weak, flawed, or “too much.”
Deeper Barriers
Sometimes, the barriers to honest speech are more profound and harder to recognise. Unconscious defense mechanisms like denial or avoidance can keep us from accessing the truths we need to confront. And some people don’t have the words to describe their emotions, which can make communication frustrating and overwhelming.
The Impact of Trauma
For those who’ve experienced trauma, the challenges are even greater. Facing painful memories can feel unbearable, and the fear of reliving that pain often keeps people from opening up.
There’s also what therapists call therapeutic resistance—an instinctive hesitation to engage in the deep emotional work that’s needed for healing. It’s a way of self-protecting, even when that protection holds us back from growth.
Difficulties in Being Heard
Just as it’s hard to speak honestly, it can be just as challenging to truly be heard. You might think that being a good listener comes naturally to a therapist, but let me tell you—it’s not as easy as it seems. Listening deeply is incredibly hard work. And most eoople don’t realise how bad they are it!
Why is that? One of the main reasons is that we tend to listen in relation to ourselves.
When someone shares a story, we instinctively try to connect it to our own experiences. We think of similar stories we could tell or imagine what it might feel like to be in their shoes. Even when we’re trying to listen carefully, our responses often centre on our own perspective.
But what happens when someone’s experience doesn’t fit our expectations? When their perspective feels unfamiliar or completely outside our frame of reference, it can be harder to understand them. In those moments, there’s often a temptation to correct their view, to convince them to see things our way, or even to judge their perspective as wrong.
Bruce Fink on Listening
The psychoanalyst Bruce Fink describes this challenge beautifully. He says that:
“ In our haste to identify with the other, to have something in common with them, we forcibly equate stories that are often incommensurate, reducing what we are hearing to what we already know.”
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The Risk of Overlooking Uniqueness
It’s often said that our shared humanity helps us understand one another, and there’s truth in that. But as Fink reminds us, if we focus only on what we have in common, we risk missing the unique and specific parts of another person’s experience.
Listening deeply means stepping outside of our perspective. It means being willing to sit with what’s unfamiliar and truly hearing someone—not as a reflection of ourselves but as they are.
Empathy Without Assumption
In therapy, it’s natural for therapists to show empathy by focusing on shared humanity. While this often comes from a good place, it can sometimes have the opposite effect. Instead of creating connection, it can unintentionally overlook the client’s unique experience.
For example, when someone shares a painful memory, it’s common to respond with, “That must have been so hard for you,” or “That sounds really difficult.” These phrases are caring, but they also carry an assumption—they subtly impose the listener’s interpretation onto the other person’s story.
I’ve found it’s often more meaningful to simply ask, “What was that like for you?” This question leaves space for the client to express their experience in their own words, free from assumptions or pre-defined narratives. It’s a small shift, but it can make all the difference in creating a an open field where we can meet the client.
Conclusion
So, what does all of this mean for how we live and relate to one another?
Perhaps it’s an invitation—an invitation to speak honestly, listen deeply, and remain open to being transformed by what we encounter, even when it feels unfamiliar or uncomfortable. It’s about allowing others to be fully who they are while staying true to ourselves.
Rumi’s words guide us: to step “out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing.” In these moments, we open the door to a genuine I-Thou experience. We let go of the need to change or fix others and instead meet them as they truly are—as an “other.” If they can do the same, then both of you can be enriched by the encounter, transformed through the connection.
In today’s fragmented world, returning to these simple but powerful practices—being present, accepting, open, vulnerable, and curious—feels more vital than ever.
Thank you for sharing this time with me. Until next time, may you meet others—and yourself—with grace, openness, and perhaps a glimpse of that mysterious field Rumi spoke of, where “the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make any sense.”
Bye for now
My name is Paul Whitehead. I'm a Gestalt Therapist working in Glossop, central Manchester and online. I specialise in helping people through significant life transitions and challenges. Whether you’re facing a relationship breakup, a career change, a spiritual or existential crisis, grief, or questions about identity, I’m here to support you.
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