“Silence, Wisdom & The Art Of Listening: Part 1”

Waking Point

by Helen Noakes

“The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. . . . A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well-intentioned words.”—by Rachel Naomi Remen

SAN FRANCISCO, CA—(Waking Point)—4/12/10—A couple of weeks ago, on a day when rain plummeted down on us in blinding sheets, I decided to use a drive-up mailbox rather than brave the storm. After dropping my mail into the receptacle, I noticed an elderly man, carefully making his way along the pedestrian crosswalk in front of my car. Suddenly, he fell.

As soon as I turned off the engine, the woman in the car behind me started blasting her horn. As I got out, I could see her screaming face turn scarlet with rage. My attempts to explain what had just happened by pointing towards the front of my car only enraged her more. She pounded her horn, rolled down her window, and yelled obscenities at me.

Ignoring her, I approached the fallen man, and found him leaning against my bumper trying to rise. He rejected my assistance, but conceded to my request that he check to see if he was all right before walking away. “The only thing hurt, young lady, is my pride,” he quipped. Pride notwithstanding, he seemed unhurt.

I thanked him for referring to me as a young lady, and offered to drive him to his destination. That offer was also declined.

Despite the fact that she could now see what had happened, ‘Enraged Woman’ continued her appalling performance. The elderly gent thanked me and approached her car. He stood staring at her for a second. She looked nervous and went silent.

“God bless you,” he said to her. “I’m referring to the God you’re advertising on this sticker.” He pointed to a Jesus is God sticker prominently displayed in the corner of her windshield. “She’s got no sticker,” he said, pointing at me. “Maybe she doesn’t need one.” He waved at me then, and walked away.

I don’t know how much of what he said had any effect on the woman. I only know that she shut her window and sat, staring at me. At the time, all I wanted to do was get away from her and her rage, but the incident stuck in my memory. It seemed to encapsulate something about our present society.

We’re such a noisy, angry lot. Most of the time, as The Bard phrased it, we’re “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Some of us yell and scream about our point of view, our hurt, our needs, without seeing the needs of others . . . or listening.

Listening is an art, and essential to evolution—listening to others, listening to the world that surrounds us, listening to our inner voice, listening to silence.

The latter is a deeply healing practice, used in Buddhist, Taoist and Hindi disciplines, to access inner harmony and wisdom. And, while my Christian background provides me with a seemingly endless selection of prayers, I find that the most profound prayer I can offer up is silence—silence as an act of respect for all that is greater than me.

In that silence, there is something quite inexplicable.

In that silence, there is a sense of union with all and everything.

If we experience this confluence of being, is it possible to turn away from others in need? Is it possible to demand without also offering? Is it possible to hate so virulently that we cause suffering and death?

I’m not sitting in judgment of that angry woman. She has clearly been struck down by the fatal disease of rage. It’s become an epidemic in our country; yet we offer no vaccine for it, no cure, not even a placebo.

The sticker on this woman’s car spoke of her efforts to alleviate her malaise. But no sticker, no canned prayer, no choreographed ritual can reach into the depths of our being to show us the root of this infection. The root, if we dig deep enough, is fear.

Let’s face it: we’re scared. From the mundane struggle to make ends meet, to the greater fear of war and terrorism, we live our lives in a constant state of apprehension. We live in a state of crisis, which is a condition that cannot be maintained for lengthy periods of time without its taking a serious toll.

Some have acquired coping mechanisms to deal with this state of perpetual free-floating anxiety; others resort to anger and screaming rages. This latter path, of course, solves neither our own problems nor the world’s.

It’s time to shut up, take stock, look, listen and apply calm reasoning. It’s time, in short, to act like responsible adults.

I don’t know what ‘Angry Woman’ did after the incident at the mailboxes. From the expression on her face when the old man spoke to her, I think she felt ashamed. I hope so. In this case, shame would be the first step towards re-assessment and self-observation. God knows we could use a great deal of re-assessment right now.

It’s time to travel into our own silence, to listen, to hear, to tap the font of wisdom we’ve acquired.

Wisdom never comes from screamers. It comes for quiet thinkers.