All those years/forgetting/how easily/you can belong/to everything/simply by listening... - David Whyte
When I was five, my father (with me, at left, when I was two) sustained an injury that almost killed him. After seven days in a coma from a blow to the head while playing handball, he lay at home in his bed recovering. The doctor had given strict instructions that he was not to move from that bed.
One day in 1948, I found myself playing alone in a room nearby his with a knapsack and knife - one whose blades he had warned me not to open. I opened one and it closed on my thumb.
As I watched the blood pour from my gashed thumb (I have the scar to this day) I knew I should not disturb my father. He was dangerously ill. I only had a cut.
Hiding my bleeding thumb behind my back I asked Dad if he could reach a bandaid in the cabinet above my height. Listening with the ear of a caring father, he knew there was something else going on. "Why are you holding your hand behind your back?" he asked.
When I showed him my thumb, I watched him struggle to his feet to help his tiny son. It took all of his strength to help me deal with my little cut. I will always remember this act of his caring heart.
It is in the "listening" that caregivers discover the need of others and the nature of their role in meeting that need. What a gift lives in this power each of us possesses and infrequently uses - the power to listen with our hearts!
Of course, listening symbolizes every other way we connect to the need of another - through seeing, through touch, through tasting another's agony, through smelling the fear that lives in those who have become vulnerable, and most of all, through listening with our hearts.
"Listening" here, means listening and seeing with through the eyes of our hearts. It means reaching back through everything we have learned to touch the core truth of what we knew, intuitively, as children - the truth that lives beyond our mere senses.
My dad died in 1995. One of my many sweet memories of him is how he rose from his sick bed to care for his little son - a thing he could do only because he heard a need beyond the words I spoke to him.
Today, someone will speak their need to you. They may use other words. They may seek to cover their true pain. If you are "listening" you will hear what gift of love is needed from you to meet the unspoken desire of another.
Live Love, not fear.
-Erie Chapman
I love the quote/poem of Whyte's that began this essay. We, caught up in the world of noise, busy-ness and self-importance, forget to listen to the story unfolding before us. Your emphasis on listening through all of our senses and returning to the genius of our childhood to be attuned to the needs of others is powerful. Thank you.
Posted by: Karen York | July 01, 2009 at 08:12 AM
What sweet tenderness lies at the heart of your story, I appreciate reading this poignant memory of you and your dad and today’s encouragement.
I too have a remembrance of my dad from when I was about eight years old. He asked me to go retrieve a book for him. Well, I ran somewhat exuberant to fetch it from a high glass shelf. The shelf was much taller than I but I was able to eye the book through the glass. What I didn't see was a pair of eyeglasses resting on top of the book. In one fell swoop, I reached up on tiptoe and the book and glasses came flying down. I stood mortified and looked at the shattered lenses. I knew I had to go tell my father what I had done and I that I was in big trouble. I fearfully told him of my mis fortunate act and I was amazed at his response. He was so kind, compassionate and forgiving of my mistake.
I guess when all is said and done, it comes down a child within who still needs to know, through little acts of caring, and band aids when we bleed, compassion and forgiveness when we make a mistake, that someone will listen and respond with Love. For we are loved not for any act or achievement of our own but simply because we belong to Love. Through remembrance, we know that Love is our natural inheritance.
P.S. My dad died in 1995 too.
Posted by: ~liz Wessel | July 01, 2009 at 08:53 AM
Erie, what a beautiful story to read today. I spent the last three days with my father in San Antonio. He is quite ill and confused about desperately needed dialysis for his failing kidneys.
By the time I left I was relieved, as my father was very surly and controlling as my time drew to an end. I didn't realize this was his unspoken call to me of his pain and fear of his future. When I call him today, I'll listen more carefully to hear beyond my father's pain to his true message.
Thank you for this timely lesson in reaching deeper into my heart to provide loving care to my father during this time...V
Posted by: Victoria Facey | July 01, 2009 at 01:20 PM
I am amazed that anyone can expressed so wonderfully what you have. I remember so many times my parents showed me love and protection and created "moments" that have remained in my mind and heart. I only pray that I have been the kind of parent that you have described. May my children someday bring a smile to someones day with a story of my love and protection for them. as you have Thank you so much for sharing
Posted by: Deb Gerlica | July 01, 2009 at 01:20 PM