Listen Here!

I’m not a musician myself but I remember talking to a highly accomplished singer and guitar player once about his line of work. “I spend most of my time just listening,” he said. “That’s how to make music. You have to learn to listen.”

Over the years, we uniters have talked a lot about what and who we listen to and who we don’t listen to also. I’ve joined others in reducing how much I listen to mainstream news and have tried hard to tune out hatred. I was happy when I saw recent data that suggests that lots of us are listening less and less to the voices of division in the news media. “We’re being manipulated,” one friend told me, “and they’re making money by scaring the hell out of us.”

But tuning out the voices of division and hatred is only half the challenge. The other half is learning to listen—really listen to each other. In that regard, I was lucky to “Zoom meet” a reporter from the Philadelphia Inquirer last week, Ronnie Polaneczky. Just as we’ve been tough on journalists who benefit from fear-based manipulation, we should also shower support on those who don’t.

Ronnie is one of those: a tough, award-winning reporter for one of America’s great newspapers, who has also been on a journey of learning to listen. Check out her TED Talk and listen to the epiphany she gained from the mother of a murdered son, who was embittered after reading a story by Ronnie about another mother of a murdered son. Fueled by the thought “no one cares about my son,” the mom had called Ronnie and left a message dripping with contempt and the pain of thinking “why did no one ever write an article about MY son?”

Ronnie called back. She listened to the mother’s anger and she heard the pain underneath. Once the mother had finished. Ronnie said, “I am so sorry. Can you tell me about your son? What was he like?” And the wounded mother opened up and the two moms talked on and on.

Later, Ronnie, having done some thinking about listening—about how hard and rare (and healing) it is to listen without judging—set up a sign in Clark Park in Philadelphia that read, “I will listen: with compassion, without judgement, with an open heart. So, is there something you need to say? Tell me. I will listen.” She stayed all day as people came to talk and be listened to.

Ronnie believes that deliberate listening changes the listeners and those listened to—it draws us out of ourselves and shows us that we are all connected. That’s news folks—breaking news.

Ronnie closed her talk with a story of another mother of a murdered child. This mother listened to the 15-year-old killer of her son during the trial and came to forgive him, and gave this rationale: “I think of my son a hundred times a day, and every time I think of my son, I think of the boy who murdered him, and every time of I think of the boy who murdered him, I feel hatred. Which means every time I think of my son, I feel hatred. That cannot be.”

So she listened until she forgave.

That may be the only prescription strong enough to change the destructive course of our country. Some will say that’s impossible and others, that it’s just a fantasy. The real world is tough and mean. Listeners are losers.

Wrong. I think if we listen deeply to each other, we’ll realize that most of us are starving to be heard and seen. Last weekend, my daughter Caroline, 24, organized a “salon” for young artists like her who want to be listened to and supported. She posted an invitation on Instagram and the numbers of RSVPs quickly exploded and she had to turn folks away. Obviously, she tapped into a hunger within her generation of young people wanting to be heard and of young people wanting to listen deeply too.

Those who made it to Caroline’s show were treated to four spectacular acts: dance, acting, music, and visual artists, too. Everyone performing was under 30. Everyone attending was under 35 (except Linda and me, who snuck in!). Caroline and her co-producer, Mark Wright, welcomed everyone with a simple message: “We really need you all to support us and we really want you all to join us in creativity and change.” One of the performers, Sophia Parker, danced to the old classic, “It’s gonna take a lotta love to change the way things are,” sung by Nicolette Larson. It was so beautiful that I cried. When Caroline performed her ten minute piece of dialogue and dance all centered on recreating the funny and original and heart wrenching loss of her deeply loved cousin, Saoirse, the small room almost exploded. If you could see love, you would have seen a flood. The young artists spoke and, I daresay, we listened.

So, if there’s something you need to say, tell us. We will listen. And that might make all the difference.