LEARNING TO LISTEN AGAIN

There’s been a poem tumbling around in my head through the period of lockdowns and Covid disruption. It’s called The Listeners and it was written by Walter De La Mare. It’s a haunting story of non-communication. It’s the lament – it occurred to me - of an Amazon delivery man. Most of all, though, it captures the perplexed feeling of being stood up.

 

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,   

   Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses   

   Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,   

   Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;   

   ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;   

   No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,   

   Where he stood perplexed and still.’

 

 

Throughout these past, quiet months we seem to some extent to have lost the art of communication but, particularly, of listening – not just listening but eavesdropping too – in empty rooms it just isn’t possible. The lifting of restrictions can change this, but we also need to relearn how to do it. As I did last week.

 

All were Zoom calls.  The first was on a train, a man arguing with an HR Consultancy or some such, getting angry and then being apparently being calmed down and smiling. It was like listening to a fight that ended up kissy-kissy. 

The second was in a café and Mr-I’m-In-Charge was attending a meeting but not doing so attentively, gloomily munching toast and throwing in lines like “well, there’s only one answer to that isn’t there?” I concluded he was not as in charge as he’d thought. The third one was on a train from East Croydon when I heard the following: “what we need is a competency framework” What is that? It sounds important. What followed in quick succession was a further need for a “resilience model” and “a check on the number of modules on the data link.”

What did I learn? That Zoom calls seem not to bring the best out of human beings or that I’m rather out of touch. I recalled years ago having one of those informal, exploratory chats with a company Chairman sounding me out about a possible senior role in his company. I found myself as perplexed as that traveller because after he said “the current synergy syndrome” I realised that I was listening to a foreign language of which I had a very shaky command. 

I went for a long walk with my wife on Saturday through woodland and by lakes. Being a much better walker than me I encouraged her to march on as I sat on a bench and listened to the argument some ducks were having as they gathered boisterously, waddling to some kind of party (political ducks!) This was interrupted by five Canada Geese flying in formation who  joined the party landing in the water with a tremendous honking. The sound of waterfalls in the background was soothing yet insistent. It was all wonderfully simple. How seldom I thought do we all really listen and let nature’s sounds calm us. Eavesdropping on nature surely beats doing it to “businessmen”.

Listening is one of the arts lost over the past two years. We have become deaf to all but the monotone of the news. Since last week I’ve been listening to the chatter of children, the barking of excited dogs and the rowdy, end-of-the-pier rude shrieking of the seagulls.

I’ve become a listener again.