Socrates is my homie

Use this 2000-year-old truth to enrich your relationships now

How many times in your life has a question—not an answer—helped you realize something you didn’t know you already knew?

We already have everything we need—sometimes, it just takes someone else to help us bring it out.

Yet, when it comes to others, we rarely trust that they do.

In relationships, we often do the opposite: we bring our own agenda into every conversation and unknowingly push people away, especially with the people we care about most.

Unfortunately, this is the quickest way to make people feel unheard, disempowered, and distanced from us.

I know, because I used to do this all the time.

When helping is hurting

When I decided to take control of my health a few years ago, I made some significant lifestyle changes that profoundly transformed my life. I felt better than I had in years, and I wanted everyone I cared about to experience the same transformation. My father, my brother, my friends—I couldn’t wait to share the life-changing discoveries I’d made.

Except I wasn’t just sharing. I was preaching.

Every conversation became a mini-lecture. I was turning the people around me into projects, constantly thinking: ‘I can fix this,’ ‘Just stop eating junk,’ or even ‘Why can’t they see, it’s so obvious?’—as if telling them what to do should have magically and instantly worked.

Because of my new found identity, I desperately wanted to be helpful. But instead, what I was doing had the opposite effect. I was taking their power away, sending an unspoken but loud message: I know better than you.

But I didn’t know better. How could I? I’m not them.

I can never know the full complexity of their thoughts, feelings, and experiences—the things that make them who they are. Even if I have some ‘critical’ information that they don’t, it does not mean that I know what’s best for them.

As you can probably guess, my approach didn’t work. Instead of inspiring the people around me, I was pushing them away. It was rare for a conversation not to feel frustrating, tense, or disconnected—with neither of us feeling heard or understood.

Not only was I hurting my relationships, but the belief driving my behavior—that I knew better than them—was completely untrue. And as it turns out, I wasn’t the first to stumble upon this truth.

Socrates didn’t have the answer

“Through these questions, he is not learning from me, but remembering the truths already within him.” — Socrates

Socrates knew this some 2000 years ago: the people we care about (and the people care less about for that matter) already hold the answers they need.

In Plato’s ‘Meno’, Socrates helps a young boy solve a geometry problem—not by explaining the solution, but by asking carefully crafted questions. Through these questions, the boy struggles, tries ‘wrong’ answers, before arriving at the solution himself.

What Socrates shows here isn’t just about geometry—it’s about something much deeper: true knowledge is already within us, waiting to be drawn out through inquiry and reflection. The same is true in our relationships: the people we care about already have what they need—we just need to help them surface it.

But what do most of us do? We teach, advise, and inform—thinking that sharing our wisdom will solve the problem. We love jumping in with answers (and believe me, I share this love).

But when we try to ‘fix’ the people we love, we forget what Socrates knew so long ago: they already have the answers—they just need space to uncover them.

Socrates, the coach’s homie

When I became a coach, I quickly learned that my role isn’t to give people answers—it’s to ask questions that help them uncover their own. This belief wasn’t just foundational to my becoming a professional coach, it also transformed my personal relationships.

When I started applying this in my personal life, something incredible happened.

I naturally stopped lecturing my father about his health. I stopped pushing. Instead, I started listening—asking simple, open-ended questions like, ‘How do you feel?’ and ‘What do you think about this? I only shared my story when he was curious and wanted to hear more.

For the first time in years, we really connected. And what was even more remarkable: without any pressure, he started experimenting on his own—not because I told him to, but because he ‘wanted in’. He was inspired rather than pressured and our relationship went from stiff and distant to warm, open, and curious.

This isn’t just some idea from a dusty old philosopher. It’s a timeless and relevant practice, because it works.

You don’t have to be a coach—or Socrates—to see the impact. Whether it’s your family, your colleagues, or your closest friends, letting go of answers can completely transform any relationship.

Socrates makes you think

“I cannot teach anybody anything. I can only make them think.” ― Socrates

Socrates believed that true wisdom comes from within and his approach mirrors the essence of coaching: helping people to uncover their own insights rather than prescribing answers.

The next time you notice a friend wrestling with a problem, you might catch yourself wanting to swoop in with solutions—I know I still do.

But if Socrates was onto something (and he usually was), maybe there’s a better way. And it isn’t complicated: asking questions, listening to the response (i.e. shutting your mouth), and reflecting back what you hear.

That’s it.

Walking alongside people as they uncover what they already know is one of the most profound ways to not only help, but also to deepen your relationship in the process.

Thank you, Socrates.