{"id":2894,"date":"2026-10-30T13:54:54","date_gmt":"2026-10-30T20:54:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/phcprimarycare.org\/?p=2894"},"modified":"2026-10-30T13:54:54","modified_gmt":"2026-10-30T20:54:54","slug":"seeing-and-being-seen-lessons-from-theo-of-golden-for-clinical-leaders","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/phcprimarycare.org\/?p=2894","title":{"rendered":"Seeing and Being Seen: Lessons from Theo of Golden for Clinical Leaders"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Robert L. Moore, MD, MPH, MBA, Chief Medical Officer<\/strong><\/p>\n

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\u201cAttention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.\u201d<\/h1>\n

– Simone Weil, French philosopher and mystic<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Every so often, a piece of art that has nothing\u00a0to do with health care can offer helpful insight that applies to the work we do. \u00a0The novel Theo\u00a0of Golden<\/em><\/a>, Allen Levi’s debut, is one of those examples. (No spoilers here, the book’s quiet mysteries are worth discovering for yourself; I highly recommend it.)<\/p>\n

Self-published in 2023, Theo of Golden<\/em> has since become a national bestseller, spread largely by word of mouth. The premise is almost a fable: Theo, an elderly Portuguese gentleman, arrives in the small, fictional Georgia town of Golden and discovers a coffee shop whose walls hold 92 pencil portraits of local people. He sets out to get to know the\u00a0town, one person at a time. Mostly, he listens and stays for about a year in the small community.<\/p>\n

After finishing the novel, I\u2019m convinced that this book has several lessons that can be adopted and appreciated by clinician leaders.<\/p>\n

Theo is not a clinician, a manager, or a fixer. What he offers is unhurried, courteous, and genuine interest. He does not judge or lecture. He does not tell a person what he ought to become. When someone carries guilt, he does not rush to wave it away with easy reassurance; he stays with them in it. His friendships encompass multiple people of various walks of life: a graduate student, a university custodian, a struggling family, and a woman who has long felt invisible. As you continue reading, the people he meets begin to treat others with more kindness, too.<\/p>\n

In other words, the book is a year-long demonstration of how being truly seen, heard, and understood can change people, and also, how anyone can offer a listening ear.<\/p>\n

The sociologist, \u00c9mile Durkheim<\/a>, used the word anomie<\/a><\/em> to describe the condition of people who feel cut off from shared meaning and from one another. It is not a word often used in clinic huddles, but we can resonate with the feeling. It can be easy for our everyday work to simply look like appointment slots and panel numbers. Everyone is busy, which can make it difficult for us to feel seen and understood.<\/p>\n

Researchers have long described three components that can contribute to burnout: exhaustion, cynicism or depersonalization, and a diminished sense of accomplishment. Depersonalization is anomie<\/em> in a white coat. When we stop seeing and understanding the person in front of us, whether patient, medical assistant, or colleague, the work can lose its meaning, and we lose something of ourselves along with it.<\/p>\n

Being seen and understood is one of the most reliable antidotes we have, and as leaders, we set the tone for how much active listening happens in our health centers.<\/p>\n

Three Lessons for Leaders<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

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  1. Listening is an intervention, not a courtesy.<\/strong> In our earlier newsletter article on Project Oxygen, we noted that great managers coach by asking before answering, and that psychological safety is the strongest predictor of high-functioning teams. Safety comes from the experience of being heard. A clinician who has shared honest challenges with you and watched you actively listen is far more likely to come to you sooner for support.<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n
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    1. Every person’s story is part of the work.<\/strong> A patient’s story includes where they grew up, what they fear, and what they are trying to protect. The same is true of the front desk staff member who is the first face of your clinic that patients interact with, the clinician who has stayed in a rural community for twenty years, and the person who cleans the exam rooms at night. Our individual stories underscore our humanness and the importance of connection. As one Partnership medical director reflected here last December, the long-term relationships that allow primary care physicians to truly know their patients are exactly what is threatened by lost continuity and shrinking visit time. The same is true inside our teams.<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n
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      1. Resist the urge to fix.<\/strong> Clinicians are trained problem-solvers, and that is usually a strength. But Theo’s gift is that he does not hurry. Sometimes the first and best response to a hard story is simply to hear it out and to let the person know it landed. Solutions offered too early can tell people we were not really listening.<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

        Here are some ideas you can try to incorporate these lessons:<\/p>\n