This post from Scott Galloway is a year and a half old, but it’s worth flagging (again, perhaps). My favorite excerpt:
Add this to the list of ways social media is ruining society: It’s skewing our perception of the relative value of listening vs. speaking. Social media is a contact sport in which “takes” are the game ball. It’s taught us (incorrectly) that all our opinions matter. Worse, that everyone needs to hear and comment on them.
He’s spot-on. You don’t get any sort of clout (or Klout, back in the day) for just reading something and not weighing in.
The delta between hearing and listening is attention, being present. This is difficult in the age of devices, but respect is what makes the other party feel heard.
Scott offers four tips for lending someone our ears.
Not speaking up is easier said (unsaid?) than done. It takes practice. But the payoff for fewer words is more empathy.
This was published in 1991. Seems appropriate for our times.
THE CURE OF TROY – by Seamus Heaney
Human beings suffer, they torture one another, they get hurt and get hard. No poem or play or song can fully right a wrong inflicted or endured.
The innocent in gaols beat on their bars together. A hunger-striker’s father stands in the graveyard dumb. The police widow in veils faints at the funeral home.
History says, Don’t hope on this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime the longed for tidal wave of justice can rise up, and hope and history rhyme.
So hope for a great sea-change on the far side of revenge. Believe that a further shore is reachable from here. Believe in miracles and cures and healing wells.
Call the miracle self-healing: The utter self-revealing double-take of feeling. If there’s fire on the mountain Or lightning and storm And a god speaks from the sky
That means someone is hearing the outcry and the birth-cry of new life at its term.
It means once in a lifetime That justice can rise up And hope and history rhyme.
We could use some rhyme time right about now.
But then, once in a lifetime the longed for tidal wave of justice can rise up, and hope and history rhyme. So hope for a great sea-change on the far side of revenge. Believe that a further shore is reachable from here. Believe in miracles and cures and healing wells.
I do believe that a further shore is reachable from here. Especially if we all join hands.
Hearing Seamus read his poem is like music. And here’s a bit more musical hope:
That nothing grows on, but time still goes on Through each laugh of misery
Everybody’s gotta hold on hope It’s the last thing that’s holding me
Feeling “stuck” in your job (or your life)? Maybe you need some advice from this guy:
Ralph Steadman’s drawing of Hunter S. Thompson’s car beset by huge bats illustrated Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in 1971.
Yes, noted “gonzo journalist” Hunter S. Thompson would like a word with you:
You have the power to change things up. But don’t just take it from Hunter S. Thompson. Pull up a barstool and listen to this fella:
That’s noted Barfly Charles Bukowski, America’s most infamous poet and a “laureate of American lowlife” (Time, 1986). Here’s what he has to say about making your own breaks:
Just a couple of friendly reminders that life doesn’t happen TO you unless you let it. And if it seems crazy to make a change, then embrace the crazy.
You don’t even need a Mission Purse. You just need to take action.
Don’t take it from me, take it from my writing hero:
When you take action, you become the master of your universe.
“It doesn’t matter how good it is, or how bad… ” Damn straight! No one starts out as a master of their craft. It takes a lot of “bad” to get “good.” Don’t be paralyzed by the fear of “not good enough.”
“Action is hope”… and we could use more of that in our universe, to combat the Dark Side.
It’s heart-healthy and provides 100% of your recommended daily allowance of optimism (which has been in short supply of late).
Here’s the text only, if you prefer to linger longer on Wendell’s words:
The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
May the peace of wild things be with you today, my friend!
You done said…