I want to explore listening and not listening. I welcome anyone who would like to join me…
I feel the threatening tone in what I wrote in the article above, ‘... But maybe one day, you will be affected by my story, because you are not immune from what happens to me in my part of the world’. I see an old woman waving her bony finger at those of us who turn away from the untold stories and storytellers still waiting to be heard. “Ignore me at your peril!” she cries.
So, yes, our world is more and more interconnected, and what happens in one place can have ramifications for people elsewhere, whether immediate shock waves or tiny ripples (that may gather strength over time and erupt far from their source). Sometimes we only see or guess at the connections when we look back. This happens across geography, bodies, genes and across time. (Thinking about colonisation, war and intergenerational trauma).
But there are more reasons to pay attention to other’s stories than just our self-interest.
And more reasons to listen than because we might be implicated in the story in some way, for example as beneficiaries of colonisation or war. (Often a reason for turning away, hiding in confusion, shame or denial. I want to say more about soon that in the Australian context).
Listening, deeply listening with my whole being to someone’s story– changes me. Cracks open my heart, my mind, and transforms my reference points. Through relationship I become more than…who I was. How can we not be affected by other people’s and communities’ stories of injustice, pain, struggle and inherently their resilience, and hopes and dreams and calls to action? Aren’t we all trying to figure this out? These ancient themes of conflict, power over, seeking justice and restitution, … themes that ricochet through our human experience…. continually lived out and repeated until... something changes.
And, then there is listening for no other reason than joining with another person, no matter how hard it is.
As I write, I think no matter what the reason, together in the telling and the listening we are growing new ways of relating, and that gives me hope.
I love how the WWJ space has progressed into an insightful space of learning, and I resonate with the voices. Standing on the rooftop and shouting resonates with me, maybe it might just amplify the voice enough, thanks for the learning and looking forward to the continuity of the project.
I’m very curious to know. Who are you to do these things? Who are you not to?
I want to explore listening and not listening. I welcome anyone who would like to join me…
I feel the threatening tone in what I wrote in the article above, ‘... But maybe one day, you will be affected by my story, because you are not immune from what happens to me in my part of the world’. I see an old woman waving her bony finger at those of us who turn away from the untold stories and storytellers still waiting to be heard. “Ignore me at your peril!” she cries.
So, yes, our world is more and more interconnected, and what happens in one place can have ramifications for people elsewhere, whether immediate shock waves or tiny ripples (that may gather strength over time and erupt far from their source). Sometimes we only see or guess at the connections when we look back. This happens across geography, bodies, genes and across time. (Thinking about colonisation, war and intergenerational trauma).
But there are more reasons to pay attention to other’s stories than just our self-interest.
And more reasons to listen than because we might be implicated in the story in some way, for example as beneficiaries of colonisation or war. (Often a reason for turning away, hiding in confusion, shame or denial. I want to say more about soon that in the Australian context).
Listening, deeply listening with my whole being to someone’s story– changes me. Cracks open my heart, my mind, and transforms my reference points. Through relationship I become more than…who I was. How can we not be affected by other people’s and communities’ stories of injustice, pain, struggle and inherently their resilience, and hopes and dreams and calls to action? Aren’t we all trying to figure this out? These ancient themes of conflict, power over, seeking justice and restitution, … themes that ricochet through our human experience…. continually lived out and repeated until... something changes.
And, then there is listening for no other reason than joining with another person, no matter how hard it is.
As I write, I think no matter what the reason, together in the telling and the listening we are growing new ways of relating, and that gives me hope.
This group process stirred the following questions within me. It feels relieving to share.
Who am I to speak about what is happening in Congo, Sudan, and India
Who am I to take on a role that I don´t know enough about
Who am I to take up someone else´s space
Who am I to decide that it is my time to speak now
Who am I to shout louder than others
Who am I to take the focus away from something that feels far more important
Who am I?
I love how the WWJ space has progressed into an insightful space of learning, and I resonate with the voices. Standing on the rooftop and shouting resonates with me, maybe it might just amplify the voice enough, thanks for the learning and looking forward to the continuity of the project.