Listening, as you so beautifully trace, is a human act but also an ethical stance. In a world drunk on self-expression, the listener is the radical, the dissenter, the one who withholds the impulse to broadcast in order to receive, absorb, and metabolise.
But here’s another twist: what if listening isn’t just about empathy or presence, but about memory? True listening creates an archive. A living, breathing library of others’ truths stored in our nervous systems, shaping how we move through the world. And in this age of externalised cognition (AI, cloud storage, outsourced recall) perhaps the rarest luxury of all is a human being who remembers what you said last year, or yesterday, not because an algorithm reminded them, but because they listened.
There’s also a strange paradox at work now: the more we speak into the void (posts, stories, podcasts) the more we dilute meaning. Like overwatering a plant. Listening, by contrast, concentrates meaning. It ferments it into something potent.
So yes, let’s not wait for another marketing wave to sell us our own humanness! Let’s rewild our attention! Let’s make listening not a luxury, but a revolt!
I just had a shiver when I read "what if listening isn’t just about empathy or presence, but about memory?"
You've expressed that so beautifully Tamara. We make memory from moments not always loud and expressive, but also quiet and tender.
You're so right about the dilution of meaning and how listening concentrates it. I never thought about it in that way, but it's an exceptionally wise insight.
Reading your comment, it's just so striking how we've reached this point in time, so quickly. I remember in the pre-podcast era how listening to something - from a friend, to an educational class etc - felt like my cup being refilled. It felt refreshing. It still IS refreshing. But now, through the amount of "content" out there, we risk undervaluing what is worthy of our concentration and precious time.
Thank you for being so generous as ever with your comments! I have a feeling you could write a brilliant piece on memory making...
Listening, as you so beautifully trace, is a human act but also an ethical stance. In a world drunk on self-expression, the listener is the radical, the dissenter, the one who withholds the impulse to broadcast in order to receive, absorb, and metabolise.
But here’s another twist: what if listening isn’t just about empathy or presence, but about memory? True listening creates an archive. A living, breathing library of others’ truths stored in our nervous systems, shaping how we move through the world. And in this age of externalised cognition (AI, cloud storage, outsourced recall) perhaps the rarest luxury of all is a human being who remembers what you said last year, or yesterday, not because an algorithm reminded them, but because they listened.
There’s also a strange paradox at work now: the more we speak into the void (posts, stories, podcasts) the more we dilute meaning. Like overwatering a plant. Listening, by contrast, concentrates meaning. It ferments it into something potent.
So yes, let’s not wait for another marketing wave to sell us our own humanness! Let’s rewild our attention! Let’s make listening not a luxury, but a revolt!
I just had a shiver when I read "what if listening isn’t just about empathy or presence, but about memory?"
You've expressed that so beautifully Tamara. We make memory from moments not always loud and expressive, but also quiet and tender.
You're so right about the dilution of meaning and how listening concentrates it. I never thought about it in that way, but it's an exceptionally wise insight.
Reading your comment, it's just so striking how we've reached this point in time, so quickly. I remember in the pre-podcast era how listening to something - from a friend, to an educational class etc - felt like my cup being refilled. It felt refreshing. It still IS refreshing. But now, through the amount of "content" out there, we risk undervaluing what is worthy of our concentration and precious time.
Thank you for being so generous as ever with your comments! I have a feeling you could write a brilliant piece on memory making...