Mine is a life of listening. Some listen to music, to words, to God. To what do I listen? To life itself. And surely to God. I listen with my whole body. I listen with my pen as words flow through it onto the page - words I had not planned or expected. I listen with my eyes and hands as colours call to swirl and blend. I listen with my toes in sand as the waves lap over them on a still and silent Sunday morning.
Is it selfish? Undoubtedly. Deeply. But here is what I’ve learned. The continuum between selfishness and selflessness is a circle. Consider the contemplative nun who withdraws from the world in order to pray for it. At a certain point, if I listen long and truly enough, I may arrive somewhere I had not planned.
I shall not pretend my listening is any form of virtue; I listen thirstily, greedily, deliciously. I listen because I must. I listen with the pores of my skin and with a joyous heart. I listen because I want to listen, even as I want to breathe.
And so I shall keep on listening. Who knows where I may find myself today?
Is it selfish? Undoubtedly. Deeply. But here is what I’ve learned. The continuum between selfishness and selflessness is a circle. Consider the contemplative nun who withdraws from the world in order to pray for it. At a certain point, if I listen long and truly enough, I may arrive somewhere I had not planned.
I shall not pretend my listening is any form of virtue; I listen thirstily, greedily, deliciously. I listen because I must. I listen with the pores of my skin and with a joyous heart. I listen because I want to listen, even as I want to breathe.
And so I shall keep on listening. Who knows where I may find myself today?