I just hung up the phone with a fantastic friend, author, thinker and my writing teacher. Patricia Francisco is the tidal dose of grace that I encountered when my book, Waking: A Memoir of Trauma and Transcendence was less than a sapling.
She said something so simple to me today, “A story needs a listener.” It rocked me. Such an elegant statement of a profound truth. I believe in stories. I believe that stories are what shift the world, not knowledge. Knowledge-based stories are just one type of story and often particularly hard to feel. Knowledge does not readily inspire enough direct action. Instead, we need to feel in order to act. That is what stories do. They are an essential agent of change.
A story needs a listener. Of course, that’s intellectually obvious. It’s just a variation of the question, does a tree that falls in wood make a sound if there is no one to hear it? In principle, we cannot answer this question with absolute certainty. The way around the paradox is to say that, without a listener, the sound (or no sound) has no meaning. So yes, a story needs a listener.
Patricia, however, had something else in mind with her utterance, something deeper. The courage and motivation to tell a story, especially a true story, requires a listener. Ultimately, the strength to begin comes from the need to help others, and then hopefully the teller also gains in the process. This does not mean that every story must be heard. The storyteller simply needs to feel that a listener is out there somewhere in the ether. Imagine storyteller and story-listener as in an intimate, archetypal embrace. The embrace does not make the story real. Rather, the embrace gives it birth.
I want to take a moment and honor the listener. I am so grateful for the listeners in my life, not the least of which is my mother Paula. She has been a listener to her suffering child since the moment he opened his eyes from a coma at age thirteen. There have been countless other listeners in my life, too many to mention, including you reading this blog right now. So take some moments to thank the listeners of your life. They are essential to the realization of your story.
More than that, this week be a listener. Truly listen to someone. Let them feel – in their bones – that you are listening, even when you are not there to physically hear them. This is a most wondrous gift to offer another. I am reminded of an incredible take-away line from author and spiritual teacher Parker Palmer, “Listen someone into speech.” I dare you to do this.
Finally, I want to tell you one of my stories. I have been working for an Institute of Consciousness for over 23 years, one founded of the principles on storytelling and mind-body integration. Today, I got Patricia to pinky-swear onto the faculty. I am hoping you will too, whether as a storyteller or as a listener. Our faculty knows no distinction.