Listening To Childhood

Listening is a skill. It should be on every resume but the gap is the broad definition that comes with hearing. Listening is more than understanding. It’s processing the point. Writing is a blaring amp cranking out tunes set to a synthesized program thumping out beats to pass the time.

The best musicians are listeners. The best writers are readers. I’ve never connected listening to reading. It’s a different kind of listening. There’s another level of attention building faith. The processed point. Conveying an idea doesn’t matter if it doesn’t reach the heart.

Reaching the heart starts with the right notes. The right beats. The right turn with emotion conveyed through the notes and beats. Who could think that something like the drums could convey conversation. After a while, every musician stumbles into jazz in their old age. After being steeped in music for so long, there is a listless boredom brewing. A decade here. A decade there. After forty years, music theory changes the dynamic. Instead of making snow, snowflakes are the details created in expression.

Sentences go the same way.

Conveying simple and clear thoughts is the only snack food for the writing web. Everything is a snack here and a snack there. There’s no meal. The ingredients of the breakfast, lunch, or dinner turn into a daybreak feast. An event. A marriage of thought conveyed through expression.

Then those marriages break up, get divorced, look for excuses to blame and find fault. These are the ideas…