part 1 :: visiting
I remember when I was a little kid, a rug rat actually. Television was not well established yet and even if you had one there were only 3 channels, if the weather was right. Anyways my parents would take us kids out visiting to a neighbor’s house for the purpose of having a conversation. There we would sit around the coffee table in the living room and talk. The adults would sit around and talk, I would roam the room, explore, examine the books and bric brac on the lower shelves, crawl under the table.
My father was the minister of a small clan of Baptists that met at the church 2 or 3 times a week and the purpose of his visit was not only to say hello and be sociable but also to encourage the spiritual growth of his congregants and ensure their attendance at church.
I didn’t know any of that, I was just playing and casually noticing that the adults were talking to each other. They were really into it but it seemed to me like a pretty boring way to have fun. I remember feeling fortunate that I was a kid and could crawl around and sit under the table where no one could see me and I could hear everything and didn’t have to say anything.
part 2 :: listening
As it turns out, listening is one of the most effective therapies we can offer each other. It’s used clinically with positive results. It often replaces taking drugs because the person is able to unwind and understand what’s happening in their mind.
It’s used between good friends when they give each other the time to express what’s on their mind and the friend listens with a kind and compassionate ear. It is revelatory for the listener and for the story teller. It’s often transformative because verbally putting things into words activates a deeper understanding of what previously may have only been an idea or a memory hanging out in some obscure part of your brain.
I had a conversation with a friend the other day. She came over to my house for a totally unrelated reason, she thought it was the party day. No that’s next week I informed her. But that wasn’t the reason she came over. She came over because she wanted to talk to me and I wanted to talk to her.
“Let me tell you a story.” I began and went on my rant.
She listened patiently and with compassion because she’s a friend. And I told her my story. And then she began. And she spoke of many things. And I listened. Even a few times I was prompted to listen when my own mind wanted to jump in and say something perfect for the moment. Still I kept silent. She patiently explained way more, went around looking for memory fish so she could tell me about their colors.
We had alot of fun.
part 3 :: the power of being silent
This is something I’m trying to learn.
There is a time to be silent and there is a time to speak, I have learned that much.
I think it could qualify as a life skill. One of the basic ones. Like maybe something the Greeks taught back in the day along with oratory and mathematics and gymnasium.
I tried it at the Summer Solstice Soiree yesterday in the back yard to see what would happen, that was my intention anyway, to see if I actually could be silent.
part 3.b :: the party
Well adjudicate this, I tried to be circumspect, but it was a party. There were conversations going on all over the backyard and inside the house. Conversations started over . . . a common observation, a favorable comment - and off they would go: bonding and exchanging words.
The backyard was open and people were spread out but when it started to rain and we all rushed into the house with pillows over our heads, it got very much more concentrated. We settled down in a large clump in the living room. Poetry was performed and people started playing assorted musical instruments. Mostly drums of one type or another, singing bowls, a large brass thing shaped like a cymbal that made the most mellifluous, boingy sounds. A lot of dinging and trilling. A flute player showed up. It was raucous but not unruly. It was spontaneous and soon grew into body dancing and hand dancing and singing too. If you can call it that. ‘Laughing Wolves” was the name of one of our songs.
The room kind of divided - the women had formed a circle and were dancing with each other while the men were all beating on the drums nearby. There was something primordial about it. Everyone was into their own trance state, their own thought processes but we were all connected too, through the rhythm of the drums and the chanting of the voices rising up now and then from among the dings and the clanks and whether it was from the women or the men it didn’t matter at all, as it was well received and holy.
This went on for awhile and then it began to taper off. People started moving around, getting something to drink, checking out the food table (where a mighty potlach had been established). People were in an exalted mood. With all that dancing and music making? Everybody was exuberant or atleast pretty charming. Young people and old people all together. People all having conversations with strangers and learning all sorts of things.
At one point in the evening, I remembered my vow of silence and that I hadn’t done any of that. I hadn’t even tried to remember. I had whooped and hollered with the music, done my poetry, told people all about it. I was vociferous, plenty.
And this morning, as I sit down to write, I realize how much communication was happening last night. In atleast a half a dozen different languages: dancing, talking, walking, music, screeching and the invisible 5th kind, the kinesthetic body language, where we notice subtle cues and signals, voice tonality and attention retention. We shine like bright little candles when we’re enjoying ourselves. People see that. It was a multi-channel, high frequency, interference free, interaction of the species happening right there in my living room. It was listening and speaking in graceful concert with each other. It was a raging torrent of communication. It was a Summer Solstice Soiree. Everything had changed and now the days were getting shorter not longer.
It was a transformational thing, even if you couldn’t see it, it was there: turning the wheels inside the wheels, spinning and tilting its way through the galaxy in a great cosmic circle. So forget about being quiet. Interact! Be entertained! Find a channel and broadcast your signal. That’s my take away. Communication happens in many ways. We really don’t have to work that hard at it. We just need to notice it and enjoy it when it’s happening.
Whew. I’m relieved. I don’t have to shut up, just listen up once in a while. I can probably do that, with practice.
visiting / listening and the power of being silent