Hush, hush. Somebody's calling my name

Listen.  In order to hear anything, one has to learn how to listen (which may be problematic since "listening skills" rarely are taught in K-12 curriculum, whether in language arts, English, or speech classes).  I remember teachers reminding students, especially rambunctious ones, "You have two ears and one mouth for a reason!"  They rarely followed up with "listening skills development" techniques.  Adults admonished us to save our "outdoor voices" for the playground or basket ball courts.  Nowadays, noise bombards us, so much so that its opposite typically brings pause.  What's wrong? It's too quiet.  Put on some music; turn on the television; even, "whistle while you work!"

We rarely implore students (or adults for that matter) to put on their "listening ears."  In truth, do we know who or what or when, where, or why to listen? Especially, do we know how to listen?  Probably not, for three of the six.  Some of us do while others of us don't.  At any rate, there's always room for improvement.  Inventive ones may even Google for the how-to-do-it (listen) in this fast-paced world.

Learning to listen takes conscientious effort; it involves undoing bad habits, unlearning misconceptions, or out-and-out rejecting plain stubbornness.  We might not want to toss beliefs we hold sacrosanct.  Like me, maybe others choose to wallow in the  "I know that I know that I know," scenario, rather than trying something that is challenging or dangerous.  Don't mess with my sacred cows and I won't mess with yours!

I don't know, but Courtney's death released questions that may have otherwise lain dormant forever.  I was one of those "Live and let live," rather impassive (maybe selectively involved) personalities.  Often, I hid in the pages of a book or in volunteer work that always needed volunteers.  Many times, I walked around oblivious to personal issues; yet, I could be incredibly involved in community, educational, or Church projects.

Courtney's death brought alive feelings, emotions, and ideas that I didn't know existed.  In many ways, one contradicted the other.  I wanted to burrow into the deepest hole there was; yet, I flirted with impotence, trudging around in a silent scream bubble.  Riding a roller coaster of grief, interspersed with stops in haunted houses.  I had lost all touch with reality.  Feeling guilty and useless at the same time.  I was a mess! Still am in many ways.  Healing turtle-step-by-turtle-step.
Listening, as the prophet Elijah must have done:  

"Then He said, "Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord." And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake,  but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice" (1 Kings 19: 11-12).

I'm learning the fine art of listening, sometimes hearing, the still small voice.  Comforting.  Peace-bringing.

Dear Readers, I invite your thoughts, responses, or comments concerning this Blog as well as any previous ones.