Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Worth the tango of listening.

May 27, 2016


When I was a kiddo, a high fever left me quite without hearing in my right ear. It's come back, more or less, but crowded rooms, movie theatres, whispered conversations are all still a bit tough to catch. (You know if I put you on my left side, btw, that I *really* want to hear what you've got to say...). 


This used to frustrate me, but now I find this quirk incredibly useful. For one thing, I've learned to read lips (passably, anyway) and, when matched with what I pick up, I follow along without asking the constantly annoying question, "what?" Also? I can't hear high-pitched sounds on the right side. So, camping? If the peepers or the tweets are causing a racket? No problem. Left ear to the pillow. Done. 


But I've also learned to watch people, because what they say isn't, really, the whole story. What is their body saying? Their head? Their hands? Their eyes? We communicate with so much more than sound; we resonate. We vibrate on every level. 


And if we can tune into that? Maybe we could really be heard. We could really understand what lies beneath the fear that is, so often, all we can hear. 


Words, dogma, accents, dialects, languages--they have divided us, well, forever, I guess. But vibration? That's universal.  


Tap into that language, and become fluent. 













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This Quiet Earth