DEEP LISTENING

One of the journal prompts that I recently developed for the students I teach asks four questions:

• What is awareness?
• What is attention?
• Can I be aware of something without giving it attention?
• Can I give attention to something without having awareness of it?

After writing this prompt, I was happy to learn about Pauline Oliveros (1932-2016), an American composer who coined the phrase "deep listening." This phrase isn't just about the horizontal nature of what I think about when I think about deep listening. That is, to intently lean into a person, to hold their gaze, and quietly absorb what they are expressing. In such moments I want the person to feel that I'm not distracted. That I'm neither looking up or down or sideways. That I'm meeting them eye-to-eye and that I'm completely tending to them. Their words. Their fervor. 

The reason I say that Oliveros' phrase isn't just horizontal in nature is because her phrase came about after an experience she had, of descending 14 feet vertically into a cistern in Port Townsend, Washington. A cistern is an underground tank for storing water. Kind of like a well but shorter and fatter. In that cistern, Oliveros made a music recording and found that in such a context, sounds reverberate in ways that are not imaginable unless you make that vertical trek firsthand. 

Back to my journal prompt.

What is awareness?
I think it's when I notice that a person or group is there. And that they are saying or doing something. 

What is attention?
I think it's when what I notice captures my interest or compassion or ego or love or guilt in such a way that I decide to spend extra time to interact with that person or group.

Can I be aware of something without giving it attention?
As much as I want to think that all of my expressions are worthy of captivating every person who experiences them, I know that they don't always captivate. Sometimes they infuriate. And as disappointing as that feels sometimes, I don't want to demand or strong-arm the kind of attention I want. It feels best when it's given to me with free will.

Can I give attention to something without having awareness of it?
I think awareness always precedes attention. And even though awareness alone can feel incomplete, it's not nothing. Not everybody has to dedicate their time leaning into my expressions. Especially if my one person loves me enough to tend to me and my fervor with free will. Even to the depths of an underground cistern. 

"To hear is the physical means that enables perception. To listen is to give attention to what is perceived both acoustically and psychologically." (Pauline Oliveros)