How often have I noticed or, indeed, listened to him? We talk, but do I actually listen, or is our conversation mainly a question of my waiting for him to stop and for it to be my turn to say something? For how many of us is that what conversation means – the setting up of our lines?
One must find rhythms others’ ears don’t hear.
I listened; I wrote; I learned. I do not know why so many women trusted me enough to speak to me, but underneath anything I write one can hear the percussive sound of their heartbeats. If one has to pick one kind of pedagogy over all others, I pick listening. It breaks down prejudices and stereotypes; it widens self-imposed limits; it takes one into another’s life, her hard times and, if there is any, her joy too.
If you can sit with your pain, listen to your pain and respect your pain – in time you will move through your pain.
The biggest communication problem is we do not listen to understand.
We listen to reply.
There is something divine, mystical, magical and unexplainable in the universe that is listening and responding to each of us.
Nothing listens as well as a blank page.
The girl was kind in a special way; when you spoke to her, she seemed to stop thinking of whatever she been thinking and listened to you altogether.
If I bother to listen, I can navigate by failure just as much as I can navigate by success.
I have witnessed how the power of listening, storytelling and embracing gray areas breaks through the rigid ‘us vs. them.