Listening as an Act of Love

Savoring the Song of Life

It’s early morning, just at first light. The house is quiet and heavy with sleep. You’re the first one up. You recognize the possibility of this small moment.

You creep downstairs, put on the kettle, stealthily prepare your tea, and slip out the front door. You settle onto the front steps into a seat of peaceful repose, half asleep and half craning eyes upward toward the light. You sip and soften into the ease of the waking day.

Your mind understands that it’s too early for to-do lists or ambition. There is not a thing you need to do quite yet. You exhale and settle into a receptive, open state. Nothing needs to happen, you recognize, and yet anything might.

And so you sit, watching the day slowly stretch her arms. The birdsong begins, the light shifts, the sky begins to glow. The house creaks, the breeze whispers by, the body rises and falls with each breath.

In these quiet moments of the morning - receptive and open and easy - you sense in your bones the necessity of listening, of opening yourself wide to the mystery and the grandeur of the world. You understand the importance of opening the mind and heart so wide that life pours through with all its delicacy and strength. You sense the possibility of participating in the world without even needing to speak a word.

And you promise to remember this quieter way of being, even later, when the day begins to burn bright with activity and bustle. You commit to staying close to the quiet light that fills the heart. You consider the possibility of listening to others just the way you’ve listened to the dawn, with the doors and windows of the mind open wide.

You smile as you sense how full and tender this way of being feels - expansive, curious, open to every thought and sound. You understand the gift of bearing witness, of listening without judgment. You sense the healing balm of a soul who listens, truly listens, with a mind clear and an awakened heart.

And then you remember Mary Oliver’s words, “Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness," and you feel like this wise poet is sitting right here, smiling. You vow to move forward with these words on your lips as an offering to the greater world.

This very morning, it seems, you have  been given a new pair of ears that allow you to hear the song of life. You sigh in happiness. Somehow, before the day has even lurched into action, you have been made whole.

You pledge to hold you close to love and loveliness, leaning in close to life and listening well. You promise to carry this openness out into the day ahead. Perhaps it will be a gift to others, just as it has already been for you.

The house begins to stir and the teacup is now empty. You take a deep breath, listen to the morning song one last time, and promise to keep your ears tuned gently to the world all day - with an openness and love that shines from the quiet, listening place within.