Anthology for Listening Vol. II – An essay on listening or about listening or about getting lost…
An essay on listening or about listening or about getting lost…
Rikke Lund Heinsen
(See original Danish version further down)
(Translated from Danish to English by Lukas Quist Lund)
”Listening prompts a critical and creative curiosity, a receptiveness and responsiveness, to what one may hear or encounter, see and feel, and also what such listening may give way to, from knowing and meaningful exchange, lazy thoughts and critical attention, to social debate and poetic imagination”
(On the Listening Academy – general perspectives https://listeningbiennial.net/academy-editions/on-the-listening-academy )
This quote makes my knees weak and my heart anxious.
Simultaneously. In the same moment.
Listening animates a critical and creative curiosity, a receptiveness and responsiveness to what one might hear or encounter, see or feel…
How simple it seems, when one truly listens. Stand open in heart, mind, body, and ears, so you can hear, meet, see, and feel what is stirring. In the Other, in the event, in the in-between. And see the path open for meaningful exchange.
Lazy thoughts.
Critical attention.
Social debates.
Poetic imagination or fantasy.
But why do my lived experiences tell me otherwise? Why does anxiety knock? I listen to my own almost existential confusion over how difficult it is to recall spaces and situations where such listening actually occurs. I recall spaces I helped create as an educator, where, very deliberately and facilitated, listening communities were formed among students who had the courage to be receptive and attentive, in the most basic sense.
Yet, these moments feel like small Maggi cubes of intense and concentrated will, sharply defined in time and space, and then puff… gone just as quickly. Or, I don’t really know, but these listening spaces can be experienced as a tight staging of a longing that many of us have, but which we get 50 minutes for in a workshop on a Tuesday in a theory room with 13, maybe 14 participants, who also have other things to do, and remember bathroom breaks and who took the electric kettle…
Suddenly, I remember something. Professor Eva Skærbæk has researched the concept of care and writes somewhere she suggests approaching the term “care as an existential condition of life demanded from all human beings” (Abstract from Navigating in the Landscape of Care: A Critical Reflection on Theory and Practice of Care and Ethics, 2011). This is to free the concept of care from a specific identification with femininity.
Can we think of listening as an existential condition in life, something we require or wish for from all human beings, rather than tethering it to exclusive, staged spaces for the initiated few? Or is this simply my privileged Self forgetting that listening must be seen as a surplus maneuver? A special place one can only inhabit if not utterly overloaded with problems or simply struggling for life and survival?
In my lived experiences, I have countless memories where listening is tied to power.
People with power who say:
“I hear what you’re saying,” and you feel the rhetorical circle kick to the gut when you know they mean the exact opposite. Imagine, if a leader at least dared to say, “I do NOT hear what you’re saying.”
People with power, who interrupt, because it’s too painful for them to hear others’ sentences to the end.
People with power, who “listen” while frantically nodding their heads, tapping pens on the table, shifting in their seats, their bodies vibrating with unrest.
People with power, who write emails saying they will “look into your inquiry” and then never respond.
People with power who feel most comfortable when they hold the floor and the rest of us listen. Just as a standard. Just as a culture. Just as EVERY TIME. Just as ALWAYS.
There’s that anxiety again and the feeling of being lost.
Because I truly don’t know what we should do to become better at listening.
Those of us who can. Those of us who want to.
I believe in every effort. I hope every day that I listen better. That I am listened to better.
Right now, I’m listening to the wind. The leaves are rustling wildly outside my window. The birds have special wind-beaks this morning. I’ve been awake since 5 AM. It’s now 9 AM. I’ve been listening to all sorts of things for 4 hours without speaking. It’s a relief. Maybe sometimes freedom lies here: in stopping the flow of speech for a while. In being in silence. In listening to something other than ourselves and other homo sapiens. If we are to become more receptive and responsive, perhaps we need to practice in silence. In the slowness that settles in. In the slower pace of our thoughts. In the slower pace of our responses.Suggestions for things we can say to each other:
“Would you mind saying what you just said again, a little more slowly?”
“Thank you for listening without interrupting. Now it’s my turn to listen to you.”
“I need some time before I respond to what I just heard. It’s too important for me to rush my answer.”
“Would you like to start our conversation with some silence first?”
–
”Listening prompts a critical and creative curiosity, a receptiveness and responsiveness, to what one may hear or encounter, see and feel, and also what such listening may give way to, from knowing and meaningful exchange, lazy thoughts and critical attention, to social debate and poetic imagination”
(On the Listening Academy – general perspectives https://listeningbiennial.net/academy-editions/on-the-listening-academy )
Dette citat gør mig blød I knæene og ængstelig i hjertet.
På samme tid. I samme moment.
At lytte animerer til en kritisk og kreativ nysgerrighed, en modtagelighed og en lydhørhed overfor det man måtte høre eller møde, se eller føle…..
Hvor simpelt egentlig, når man lytter efter. Stil dig åbent i hjerte, sind, krop, ører, så du kan høre, møde, se og føle hvad der er på færde. Hos den Anden, i begivenheden, i mellemrummet. Og se vejen åbne sig for meningsfuld udveksling
Dovne tanker
Kritisk opmærksomhed
Sociale debatter
Poetisk forestillingsevne eller fantasi
Men hvorfor siger mine levede erfaringer noget andet? Hvorfor banker ængsteligheden på? Jeg lytter til min egen nærmest eksistentielle forvirring over, at det er så svært at genkalde rum og situationer, hvor disse lytninger rent faktisk finder sted. Jeg mindes rum, jeg har været med til at skabe som underviser, hvor der meget bevidst og faciliteret blev skabt lyttende fællesskaber blandt studerende, der havde modet til modtagelighed og lydhørhed, helt basalt.
Men de føles også som små maggiterninger af intensitet og vilje, defineret skarpt i tid og rum og også helt afgrænsede og puf…væk igen lige bagefter. Eller, det ved jeg jo reelt ikke, men disse lytterum kan opleves som en stram iscenesættelse af en længsel, som mange af os har, men som vi får 50 min. til i en workshop en tirsdag i et teorilokale med 13, måske 14 deltagere, som også lige skal nå andre ting og husk tissepauser og hvem har taget el-kedlen….
Jeg husker pludselig noget. Professor Eva Skærbæk har forsket i begrebet care og skriver et sted, at hun foreslår at man tilgår begrebet” care as an existential condition of life demanded from all human beings” (fra Abstract fra Navigating in the Landscape of Care: A Critical Reflection on Theory and Practice of Care and Ethics, 2011). Dette for at befri omsorgsbegrebet fra en særlig identifikation med kvindekønnet.
Kan vi tænke lytning som en eksistentiel betingelse i livet, som vi kræver/ønsker af alle mennesker, mere end at lænke det til eksklusive, iscenesatte rum for særligt indviede? Eller er det blot mit privilegerede Jeg, der glemmer, at lytning må ses som en overskudsmanøvre? Et særligt sted, man kun kan være, hvis man ikke er fuldstændig overloaded med problemer eller slet og ret bare kæmper for livet og for overlevelse?
I mine levede erfaringer har jeg masser af erindringer om, at lytning er forbundet til magt.
Mennesker med magt, der har sagt: ”Jeg hører hvad du siger” og man har mærket det retoriske cirkelspark, der rammer én i maven, når man ved, at det er det eksakt modsatte, der er tale om. Tænk, hvis en leder i det mindste turde sige ”Jeg hører IKKE hvad du siger”.
Mennesker med magt, der afbryder, fordi det er for pinefuldt for dem at høre andres sætninger til ende.
Mennesker med magt, der ”lytter”, mens de febrilsk nikker med hovedet, banker kuglepenne i bordet, kurrer rundt på stolen, sitrer i kroppen af uro.
Mennesker med magt, der skriver mails om, at de vil ”se på ens henvendelse” og så aldrig vender tilbage.
Mennesker med magt, der har det bedst, hvis de fører ordet og vi andre lytter. Bare sådan som standard. Bare sådan som kultur. Bare sådan som HVER GANG. Bare sådan som ALTID.
Der kom ængsteligheden igen og følelsen af at fare vild.
For jeg ved faktisk ikke hvad vi skal stille op for at blive bedre til at lytte.
Os der kan det. Os der vil det.
Jeg tror på ethvert tiltag. Jeg håber hver dag på at jeg lytter bedre. At jeg bliver lyttet til bedre.
Lige nu lytter jeg til vinden. Bladene rasler helt vildt uden for mit vindue. Fuglene har særlige blæse-næb her til morgen. Jeg har været vågen siden kl. 5. Nu er kl. 9. Jeg har lyttet til alt muligt i 4 timer uden at tale. Det er en befrielse. Måske ligger friheden nogle gange heri: At stoppe talestrømmen for en stund. At være i stilheden. At lytte til andet end os selv og andre homo sapiens. Hvis vi skal blive mere modtagelige og lydhøre kan vi måske blive nødt til at øve os i stilheden. I langsomheden, der indfinder sig. I det nedsatte tempo i vores tanker. I det nedsatte tempo i vores responser. Forslag til ting, vi kan sige til hinanden:
Vil du ikke sige, det du lige sagde igen, lidt langsommere?
Tak for at lytte uden at afbryde. Nu er det min tur til at lytte på dig.
Jeg har brug for lidt tid før jeg responderer på det, jeg lige har hørt. Det er for vigtigt til at jeg vil skynde mig med at svare.