Tone Deafness

Leave a comment July 16, 2022 Steve Wiggins

Tone deafness isn’t just for music any more. Perhaps because of the incessant torrent of the internet, we might think we understand something better than we do. Or this may be what comes after years of what Linda Stone has called “continuous partial attention.” We’re all so busy that we don’t have time to think things through. I’ve run into several instances of tone deafness lately, where the sound comes not from music, but from a lack of considering the society. For example, Black Lives Matter. When I sometimes feel pressed upon by the fact that the mongrel peoples who came together to eventually deliver me benefitted from slavery I feel helpless. I can’t understand how Black folks feel, as much as I want to help. This can lead to tone deafness when I think I’m actually able to explain.

This also applies to other aspects of our lives. If someone we know is too busy, asking them to fit us into their schedule may be tone deafness. Unless we pick up on the many hints that “not this day, but that day might work” conveys, we tend to miss the point. I’m always amazed just how many people don’t pick up on the stress conveyed in such situations. Even professional service folk. You can almost hear them looking at their screens instead of the distressed look on your face. When we’re all too busy, ironically, the way to address this is to spend a little more time listening. Paying attention to someone else. The world won’t end if we do.

Short emails may show tone deafness as well. Those who send one or two word emails probably don’t realize how rude it seems on the receiving end. Perhaps they think it’s the same as texting. There’s a reason I don’t text. If someone is important enough for me to contact, I feel that I need to give them the required time. Look at them, not the screen. Try to hear the pitch they sing in, the cadence they use. People make beautiful music. Lives are symphonies. Do we really want to approach their performance preoccupied by what’s next on our agendas? I remember getting dressed up and going to a formal concert hall to listen to live music. I also remember sitting across a table or desk from someone with no devices, being listened to carefully. Even if it was a viva it was a wonderful feeling that someone was actually listening. Now what was it you were saying?

Our Stories

2 Comments May 12, 2021 Steve Wiggins

People’s stories are interesting. The received wisdom is that if you wish to change a politician’s mind, tell her or him a story. In fact, it seems that we’re hardwired to enjoy stories. That’s why it’s so unfortunate that we seldom take the time to listen to other people’s stories. We’re too busy. For an organization to which I belong, I recently asked that five minutes of each agenda be set aside so that one member could tell her or his story at each meeting. That way it’s possible to get to know who it is you’re working with, without the tired “one thing nobody knows about you” trope. The idea was adopted and it seems a worthwhile use of agenda time. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone’s account and found myself anything less than fascinated.

When we reflect back over our lives, we do it in narrative format. We tell ourselves a story about our life. And these stories intersect with other people’s stories. Some of those people may be famous or wealthy or ordinary, but each is unique. Considering that there are billions of us on this planet, that’s a lot of tales. There’s not so much a lesson to be learned from this than there is a simple reminder—it is worthwhile to listen to others. I’ve run into a few people who are household names in my time. Some of them are routinely criticized in the media, by people who never met them. Who don’t know them. Who don’t know their stories.

Much of our time at “work” is really time trying to earn money for a company. It may involve dealing with other people, but not closely enough to really know their story. I think of this every time an author and I could engage in a conversation about our experience of the academic life only to have to keep the discussion to “the business at hand.” The human element, it seems, is unimportant. I would read other people’s stories all day, if I could. We crave a narrative, but getting one’s not a paying position. How have we come to this place where we have time for only disconnected memes and not the stories behind them? Bookstore owners know a perennial selling genre is the biography. We’ll pay to know a famous person’s story. The fact is each of our lives is also a tale worth telling. We would all benefit from listening to each other’s experiences. Tell your story, I’m listening.

Hearing Nature’s Voice

Leave a comment July 25, 2018 Steve Wiggins

Silence is a rare treat. I enjoy music and witty repartee just as much as the next guy, but silence is revelatory. At home and in hotels I sleep to the sound of a white noise generator. You can’t predict the sounds of neighbors, and my hours are askew from those of the rest of the world. Here at the lake, things are different. I awake early, hoping to catch the sun as it trips over the mountain tops across the way, lighting successive peaks before it reaches the near horizon. It is utterly still. Perhaps it’s the interference of humans in the habitat, but crepuscular animals seldom wander past. The stillness is divine. For some the lake means loud jet skis and buzzing motorboats. I come here seeking silence.

Our daily lives lack peace. Even when things are good there are always more things to be done. We cram as much as possible into days impossibly short, giving at least eight out of every twenty-four to those who deign to pay us for our efforts. Sleep is troubled and interrupted. There are noises in the night. You can’t hear your soul. As the first rays seep into the valleys across the lake the birds begin to greet it. Their conversation may interrupt the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Silence is finding one’s place in nature. Taking time to be still. To listen.

Thirty years ago I first came to the lake. My wife had been coming here for years already before that. There have been many changes even in my short time here. I can, however, hear eternity in the silence, for forever is a whisper, not a shout. As I watch the morning mist arise, skate, and dance over the surface of the water as still as the very mountains that cradle it, I strain my ears to catch any sound. The twirling wraiths are as silent as they are ephemeral. They spin away the last minutes before the whine of an early morning fisherman’s boat begins its sleepy journey to the deep water in the middle of the lake, herald of other daylight noises to come. I will await tomorrow’s unction of silence, and although the baptism may be secular it’s redemptive after all. Nature knows far more about the human soul than any measurements might reveal. You only have to listen to hear it.