Both ears wide open


A family member dies unexpectedly. Someone drops in for a stay. Family members begin popping in. A change from our usual simple way. We’ve become engaged in daily visits, talked way more than normal and heard how others face, and deal, with the issues in their lives.

During one of our early morning trips to the coffee shop. Time alone, just Man-Wonder and myself, I’ve come to realize what this summer has been teaching me.


To let the grieving say what’s in their hearts instead of rushing in with words because I find their pain uncomfortable.

To be an empty bucket with ears to someone is struggling to find their place in the world; instead of a bucket overflowing with good advice.

To let someone talk through a shitload of anger and frustration without getting all tangled up in their angst.

The art of listening. With both ears and brain fully engaged. To focus on the words coming, to hearing what and where those words are coming from instead of half-listening because my brain is busy creating a response. Really listening.

Someone, somewhere, I forget who or where,  wrote, ‘Listen to the silence around the spoken words and you will understand better.’

The funny thing — as I learn to be quiet and listen — there’s this lovely sense of harmony. Something I’ve been chasing after most of my life and all I had to do was sit down and shut up.

Huh. Who knew eh.


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