Listening Week

When did you last listen whole-heartedly?

Last week, the world felt too heavy. Too dark. Too complex. I couldn't seem to fight through the overwhelm and it seemed hardly the ample place for creating a playful environment.  

I couldn't quite find my play. And for someone who works in the space of inspiring others in their playful – this was quite the conundrum. It seemed the growing complexity of conflict, grief, concern, and struggle waded over me like thick seaweed. Entangling. Suffocating. 

All a quandry, I found solace on a walk with my four-legged friend – it reminded me of a time in India. Staying in the religious town of Pushkar, the village is built around a holy lake devoted to Lord Brahma and a place of pilgrimage for those seeking salvation. It has a remarkable spiritual energy, surrounded by worshippers and many sacred cows.

Up early one morning, before my companion, I chose to walk this holy lake at dawn. In bare feet, I wandered the circumference. An incredible magical silence echoed across it, and anyone who has been to India will appreciate that silence is rare! 

There was an exquisite beauty in the soft hues and the morning rumbles of pilgrims and creatures. It felt almost 'other-worldly'.  

Before returning to our accommodation, I wandered to the river's edge to place my hand in the holy water. Fairly sure I'd already caught some fairly robust germs through my sodden, bare feet, I felt no fear of placing my hand in this cold, holy space. 

As soon as my hand entered the water, it felt like a message from beyond rattled up through my arms and into my heart. A message so clear, it almost jolted me to attention – looking around to see who was whispering these words straight into my aorta.

“‘Leave your tears in the river and let go’.”

Succinct. Clear. To the point. 

A message given and received at a time that was needed. And I did. I changed my life from that moment and focused on 'letting go'. 

And now, all these years later, the same message came through as I pondered how I reckoned my playful ways with a dark space. I would 'let go'. I would find the playfulness in a week of stopping and listening to the world, just as I had done all those years ago. 

So I did. 

I spent a week challenging myself to listen deeply. The challenge became the play. How much could I listen to? I challenged myself not to step forward with opinions, rhetoric, and comments but to stand back and truly, truly listen to the world around me to see what inspiration may or may not occur. 

What I expected was novelty; I was not ready for the deep impact a week of listening would have. 

As humans, we are rubbish listeners. Our brains work faster than our ears (or mouths, for that matter), and we are all so busy that we have neither the time nor the space to truly comprehend what's coming at us beyond the surface. 

Not only that, but we live in a world where people want our opinions, comments, and contributions, and the time it takes to add to the world leaves us little time to receive. 

So I listened. 

I stopped adding to social media. I simply read. I stopped listening to podcasts on trains and instead soaked in the conversations around me. I stopped contributing to workshops and communal discussions, and I became that quiet lady in the corner, disappearing but missing nothing (a challenge in itself if you know me) 

When I flew, I put myself in the corner of the QANTAS lounge so I could listen to the experience of the staff, I sat in my university study area so I could hear young people and took myself to cafes. 

And what happened was unexpectedly profound. 

People both young and old grumbled of the same issues, unaware that each generation is facing them in different guises. Laughter was had between people. Discussion was robust as people explained their passions, their wants, and their plans. 

I heard of young love planning anniversary weekends, old ladies organising 80ths, uni students bereft at neurodivergent support and mothers bereft at playgroup staff: lovers, friends, siblings, all matter of humans experiencing the same thing in different guises. 

And I felt hope. 

Because the one common etching was connection. As humans, we need connection. 

We live in a world where we are now 'entitled'. Entitled to speak, contribute, yell out. But by doing so, we often miss the nuance and beauty that is humanness, because we have no space to listen to each other if we are all yelling. And I feel like we are all yelling. Because we feel lost. And a bit hope-LESS.

But I feel we need to listen. Deeply listen. 

This week has shown me that now, more than ever, we need to play. We need to play because the thing that will unite us is connection, and we can't do that if we don't stop and see each other. Hear each other. Connect with each other. 

I urge you to spend some time deeply listening this week. Be it an hour, a day, a week. 

Challenge yourself and play. I hope it is the holy lake YOU are seeking, and provides the answers you didn't know you needed if the world feels heavy for you.