Immersed in listening

Resisting the impulse to fill silence with consuming noise

Solitude by Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1890 on display at Detroit Institute of Arts Museum

What does it mean for a being to be immersed entirely in listening, formed by listening or in listening, listening with all [their] being? —Jean Luc-Nancy, Listening

Listening is an active posture requiring attentive focus and un-selfing. The practice of listening is a discipline I often fail at. Silence may seem antithetical to listening — an absence of sound rather than its presence. To listen first requires silence and it is a rarity on the verge of extinction. At any moment throughout the day technology offers an easy way to fill the void of silence.¹ Confronting the discomfort of our own selves in silence requires strength and courage.

Katy Kelleher argues that “technology isn't inert. It's not a stone; it's a language. And like a language, we must accept its many uses.”² If technology is a language and we accept its usefulness in our lives, then we must also consider how and when to “speak” or “listen” to this language as well as when silence is needed.

Written in 1964, the iconic and prophetic book, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, by Canadian theorist Marshall McLuhan proposes that our technologies impact the way we perceive or experience information. In other words, the mode by which we hear something impacts our listening. McLuhan says “it is not an exaggeration to say that the future of modern society and the stability of its inner life depend in large part on the maintenance of an equilibrium between the strength of the techniques of communication and the capacity of the individual's own reaction.”

The speed at which technology engenders reaction rather than listening threatens the fabric of our society.³ What happens with distance between the listener and the speaker collapses while also expands; the two are not mutually exclusive.

British-American author Jhumpa Lahiri began writing in Italian to slow herself down and hear language anew; she wrote about this experience (in Italian) in In Other Words. Here is her meditation on technology:

I live in an era in which almost everything seems possible, in which no one wants to accept any limits. We can send a message in an instant, we can go from one end of the world to the other in a day. We can plainly see a person who is not with us. Thanks to technology, no waiting, no distance. That’s why we can say with assurance that the world is smaller than it used to be. We are always connected, reachable. Technology refutes distance, today more than ever.

This refutation of time and distance is wondrous and terrifying. We gain access to those we love no matter our location. We are also perpetually available and engaged. What are the effects of this on the “stability of our inner life?” A plethora of essays and books address possible consequences. Inevitably we become consumed by our habits of consumption.

In a rant against the ills of contemporary society, Madeleine L’Engle writes in 1988:

Today we live in a society that seems to be less and less concerned with reality. We drink instant coffee and reconstituted orange juice. We buy our vegetables on cardboard trays covered with plastic. But perhaps the most dehumanizing thing of all is that we have allowed the media to call us consumers — ugly. No! I don’t want to be a consumer. Anger consumes. Forest fire consumes. Cancer consumes.⁴

Attuning our ears to listen rather than consume actively resists dehumanization. Time with our own thoughts in silence may help recalibrate the soul, that thing we call our inner life. It may even allow us to hear less from the cacophony of anthropocentric voices and more from the species with whom we share this planet.

Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it’s necessary

to talk about trees.

—Adrienne Rich, “What Kind of Times Are These" (1991)

1. I prefer to drown out my own thoughts with music and podcasts.

2. The Ugly History of Beautiful Things: Essays on Desire and Consumption p. 182

3. I can attest to my own rise in cortisol while furiously responding (either in my head or in writing) to something or someone I disagree with.

4. Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage p. 104