Can anyone hear me?
Embodied listening amidst our modern cacophony
John McGraw. Signs of Music Row Nashville (2013). Photograph.
“I have been and am still a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.” ― Hermann Hesse
Years ago, I found myself in Nashville for a Bachelorette Weekend.
We descended upon the city, settled into our hotel and set out for adventure. We had an incredible first day exploring the city, and as midnight approached, we found ourselves in one of the infamous bars on Music Row enjoying live music and cocktails. It was the very definition of a fun, carefree bachelorette party – only problem is I wasn’t having fun.
One of my closest friends noticed that I didn’t seem quite myself. After initially pretending I was fine, she inquired further and I finally confessed that I had a feeling deep in my stomach that we were in danger. ‘Is it these guys that are flirting with us?’ she asked. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think so. I couldn’t seem to pinpoint the source of the potential danger or of the feeling – all I knew was that my body was screaming at me from deep within. Go home. Immediately.
Sam Durant, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?, 2014, electric sign with vinyl text
I listened, left the bar and returned to the hotel, with two friends joining me and another three staying behind. A few hours later one of the three who stayed behind was hit by a drunk driver when they were returning to the hotel and suffered serious brain injuries which led to emergency surgery. Several more surgeries followed in the coming weeks, but thankfully, she made a full recovery.
As we sat in the hospital waiting room the next day, the elephant in the room was my ‘feeling’ from the night before. If we had all left together, would this still have happened? Was my ‘feeling’ even about this danger? We’ll never know the answer to these and so many other questions. But on that day, I experienced the power of true listening, and cannot unhear.
Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
While the soul, after all, is only a window,
and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep
—Mary Oliver, excerpt from 'Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches'