Whether listening to someone else, listening to
ourselves, or listening to nature; the role of silence is critical. Indeed, it
could be argued that the ability to be silent is the most basic skill
required to truly listen.
Listening to Others
Listening to other people is perhaps the first thing
that comes to mind when we hear (or read) the word listen. And, not
without cause. We spend a lot of time in communication with other people;
whether sitting in a café chatting over a coffee, spending time in intimate
conversation with significant others, or in a formal (or informal) setting with
a group of people.
If you were a ‘fly-on-the-wall’ and able to listen-in
to these conversations you would probably notice that there is not a lot of
quiet time, not much silence.
Yet, silence could bring a greatly enhanced meaning to
conversations. Silence can allow for a more abundant depth of listening than
can a spoken response. This is especially true of conversations involving
significant emotional content (such as: grief, turmoil, ecstasy, wonder, pain
and loss, depression, or love and excitement.)
Silence is recognised as a core skill in the art of active/creative
listening. It is a crucial part of healing circles, or indeed, any groupwork circle.
Within such circles the sharing is often deep, emotionally imbued, and sometimes
uttered from a place of vulnerability. Silence following such sharing does two
things: First, it indicates to the sharer (speaker) that they have been heard,
and that what they shared is acknowledged within the silent space that follows.
Second, it allows those of us who have been privileged to listen to drop into a
silent space to reflect upon what has been said and discover our common
humanity.
Listening to Nature
Richard Louv1 coined the term Nature
Deficit Disorder in 2005 to recognise the growing awareness that our
disconnection from nature had serious implications, not only for our environment,
but also for our own selves.
The writer, Hermann Hesse, noted that, ‘Trees are
sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to
them, can learn the truth.’
That requires silence. To go into the forest, or the
bush, or any natural setting, obliges us to do so in silence. In silence it is
possible to truly hear what the trees, nature, the forest, the birds,
the animals, are saying. Such an encounter with nature is at the heart of the
Japanese practice of shinrin yoku (literally meaning to bathe in the
forest environment, to take in the forest through giving mindful attention to
our senses.) One of the first researchers into the benefits of forest bathing,
Yoshifumi Miyazaki, says that ‘…it is clear that our bodies still recognise
nature as our home…’ 2
To reconnect with nature, to recognise our home, and
gain the tremendous benefits that home (nature) provides, we must appreciate
the significant role of silence.
Listening to Ourselves
How often do we truly listen to ourselves? Were we to
stop and sit, and honestly listen to ourselves, we might be surprised by what
we learn. The 17th century French mathematician, physicist, and philosopher,
Blaise Pascal, went further, proposing that, ‘All of humanity’s problems
stem from (our) inability to sit quietly in a room alone.’
Is Pascal correct in this assertion? Perhaps if we did
as he suggested, and sat in silence for awhile and listened, we might discover
that he was telling a truth.
How do we listen to ourselves?
One of the most beautiful descriptions of this inner
listening comes from Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann, a Ngangikurungkurr woman
from northern Australia. She describes the word dadirri as:
“inner,
deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring
that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that
Australia (and the world – ed.) is thirsting for. It is
something like what you call ‘contemplation.’ When I experience dadirri, I am
made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if
someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent
awareness. There is no need of words. A big part of dadirri is listening.
Through the years we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over
and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and
together we hear the sacred stories.”3
What we further notice in this beautiful word picture
is that all three aspects of listening (to others, to nature, and to ourselves)
are woven together like a fine tapestry.
How do we do this? What techniques should we develop
so that we can access that deep spring of awareness? There seems to be four barriers
we must first get past:4
1. Declutter
your mind. Tapping into your inner
wisdom is difficult if there is a lot of clutter
in the way. You will find your own way
to declutter; some ways are to go for a walk, get into nature, listen to
music or meditate. Perhaps a
shower. Have you noticed how often
you’ll get a good idea in the shower?
It’s surprisingly common.
Whatever you do, you need to give your mind freedom.
2. Ignore
what you know. Intuition deals more with
feelings, insights
and emotions than it does with facts and figures. This does not mean that you reject the
facts and figures, just put them aside and ask yourself how you feel about
the question, issue or problem? How is
your body responding?
3. Get
out of your head. Go with your gut. Often we get a “gut feeling” before our
brain takes over and becomes the “knower.”
Get in tune with your gut.
Do your stomach muscles contract and tighten or do they relax? Does
your heart and chest feel as if it is expanding?
4. Let
go the need to control. Our rational mind tells us that we should be
in control at all times. However,
when we wish to tap into our inner wisdom we need to surrender this desire, and trust that our intuition will
provide us with insights without our need to dictate what those insights
might be.
Once we get past these
four barriers, then we need to simply sit and simply be silent. Not easy,
admittedly, but worth the effort to become practiced with.
Since first being alerted to the anagram of SILENT
and LISTEN I have come to appreciate the strong connection between the
concepts of each. Silence is a crucial element in true listening, and if we
wish to truly listen then we must utilise silence.
The fact that they are anagrams of each other is a reminder
of this connection.
Notes:
1. Louv, Richard: Last Child in the Woods: Saving our
children from nature deficit disorder, Workman Publishing Company, New
York, 2005.
2. Miyazaki, Yoshifumi: Shinrin Yoku, The Japanese art
of forest bathing, Timber Press, Portland, Oregon, 2018.
3. For a full description of dadirri and more
information about the work of Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann go to her
Foundations website – www.miriamrosefoundation.org.au
Accessed 23 November 2022.
4. Adapted from, Meder, Bruce: Opportunities Emerging:
Social change in a complex world, Rainbow Juice Publishing, Coffs Harbour,
NSW, Australia, 2016.
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