A gift of hearing

cropped-P1000441We sat in a circle. You were speaking. I cannot remember your exact words, but I remember the sentiment, vividly. You were speaking. Everyone was listening. I was listening. Trying was the operative word: I was trying to listen. I was trying to hear you.

Something did not sit well with me. I was not hearing you properly. You were saying gold, but I could not hear you at all. Then something dawned in me. A gentle nugde. It urged me to change how I listened.

I shifted minutely. It was as if I merely corrected my posture slightly. The slight move, however, made all the difference. It was a shift in intention. Instead of me trying to listen to you, I have made the intention to do so. I have given my agreement to be moved, to allow hearing to happen. So It moved me. It allowed me to hear.

It shifted me so I could sit fully before you. It was like I gave all my being to that moment, to what was being spoken. My body relaxed. My senses transformed. My sight met your sight. My hearing heard yours. Our hearts connected.

I could hear. My God, how I could hear.

Gentle, warm tears ran down my face. words became Words. Your words traveled into the depth of my soul. Actual words somehow did not matter that much anymore. It was the sentiment that they conveyed that mattered most. 

That sentiment reached my heart. My heart recognised them. For a brief, fleeting moment, the speaker and the listener did not seem to matter. There was only the hearing. The Heart recognised. It melted, softened for further moulding. 

You ended your words. The room was quite. My gaze fixed on yours and words poured out of my mouth, softly, full of awe, “I can hear you… I can hear you.” You smiled. You understood. So did the room.

It was a taste of hearing, given as a free gift out of benevolence. Beautiful beyond words. Thank You. So much.

Picture was taken from Portibi’s website.

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