And there is a fine distinction between “listen to” and “to listen.” When we “listen to” we are actively engaging our senses of sound for a particular audible cue. But, when we choose “to listen,” we are opening ourselves up to the sounds of silence and solitude; to ways and words unanticipated, unscripted and often—unfamiliar. We do not choose these words; they choose us.
Albert Lewis
I walked along the edges of one of the ponds at Arapaho Bend Natural Area yesterday evening. This pond is called Big Bass Pond, so I assume at least one large bass was caught there. The water is low until we see snow melt and rains in a the coming weeks. When I found a spot that spoke to me I set up my tripod and camera, grabbed my journal and pen and sat down on the uncomfortable rocky shore to soak it up. I would take a half dozen images then write, repeating for 40 minutes until my butt said that’s enough and I became chilled. I slowly found myself in a place “to listen” to the sound of the water lapping at me feet and feeling the cooling breeze in my face. The words were just what I needed. I hope on my next visit I will be again in a place “to listen”