Reflections on what it might mean to listen for new stories
small brave thing #236
I’ve placed payments on hold as I reconfigure this Space, but if you feel gratitude for this post and want to support me, you can always
Hello beautiful human,
I believe we need new stories. So, let’s listen for them. Together.
Listening for New Stories
a listening circle held by Sarah Sadie of An Inviting Space
Experience the slowing of time with me in an online listening circle through Zoom. Scheduled for June 18, right at the brink of solstice, we’ll make time together to listen to the messages and gifts of nature, to each other, and to ourselves, to discover new stories and next steps. There will be time for participant reflection, discussion and sharing in this experiential circle.
Wednesday, June 18
3 PM UK/10 AM Eastern/9 AM Central/7 AM Pacific
or
11 PM UK/ 6 PM Eastern/5 PM Central/3 PM Pacific
Scheduled at two times across the day, please feel free to register for one or both. Share the registration links above with a friend, your sister, your circle. We’ll have opportunity to listen to each other, to the more-than-human natural world, and to ourselves as we lean in to the possibility of recovering and remembering new stories and potential next steps. This is a free offering. Registration required.
1.
I led with the invitation for once. But this morning, let’s also stretch into this inviting space and ask, What does it mean, to listen for new stories? I pepper that phrase all around and about this Space. I deeply believe in the words I write. It certainly sounds nice…but what does it mean?
I can’t tell you what it might mean for you. I think we each have to listen for our own meanings. Maybe that’s the tricky part. Maybe that’s the part we’ve been avoiding.
What would it mean for you, this morning, to listen for new stories? How would it feel? What would make it easier?
2.
I can tell you what it means for me, to listen for new stories. And why I’m excited to open these circles this month, to invite us into community and connection.
3.
For me, listening has become a foundational pillar and practice of all my work. Whether I’m writing a poem, having coffee with a friend, finding a prescription for a customer, or planting an apple tree, I try to listen. To what the person is saying, how they are holding themselves, where the silences are. I try to listen with not just my ears but my spine, my feet on the floor, my hands—to open myself to what is happening in the here and now. I notice. I pause. I open.
It’s a high bar: I don’t always succeed. But this is what I attempt.
4.
I grew up in a fast-talking family. I grew up as a “smart girl” in a small town high school. I listened for where I could point our a flaw in an argument or an assumption in a statement. I had a reply ready before the person I was with had even finished speaking. Those habits, that eagerness to share my voice, before I’d fully heard the person I was talking with, didn’t serve me—or my companions—well. I gradually learned how to slow down, to wait. To let them express fully. To make sure I really heard them. It’s hard! Listening like that is sometimes uncomfortable. The mind can wander. The feelings can come up unexpectedly.
I had to unlearn a lot. The unlearning continues.
And because I have had to unlearn so much and find new ways…I know we are capable of change. We can practice this. We can get better. We can remember and learn focus, slowness, receptivity. We can feel into the difference between reaction and response. Even in this moment, with the scary headlines and the even scarier silences, we can make space.
5.
As for new stories…well, if you’re like me, maybe you look around at where our current stories, our patterns and paradigms, our myths and beliefs have got us…and figure maybe it’s time for us to try something else. Whether in our personal lives, in our families, in our communities. To find some medicine, some balm or salve, some practice we’ve forgotten or set aside for too long. Something that we can awaken within, something we might share into together, maybe even something the wide world has ready to gift us…as soon as we open to the possibility.
So many possible nexts and new, I can’t tell you what yours will be, but I’m certainly ready to hear all about it.
Maybe on the 18th, yeah?
xo
S
I believe our world needs new stories. what if those stories lie curled within us like seeds? This is An Inviting Space to experience where and how we might discover, recover and nurture the secret, magical gardens of soul day by day. Starting where we are, as we are.
A Celebration Corner for sharing the Good Goodies
Mark Nepo’s Seven Thousand Ways to Listen is a great book to begin to expand our definitions and ways of thinking about what “listening” is. And that link will take you to the imaginary bookshop, where you’re free to browse and find the treasure that speaks to you today.
What readers are saying:
“I love how authentic you are about changing up your Substack space when it feels right. Things I love and wouldn’t want you to lose: questions for reflection or creativity, micro essays about small but large moments from your life, the goody goodies section.”
“What I love, Sarah, is your voice, the elegant and honest way you respond to the world. I love your perspective, your understanding, and your let's-just-see-what happens-in-this-little-plot approach. I'm glad you are experimenting and dreaming of a new shape for this space but I would really miss it if it were not in my life.”
So what about you? What do you love about An Inviting Space? What keeps you opening the emails and coming back in? As I pivot gently this summer, I’m hoping you’ll tell me what you most value.
I’m listening.
Your support is welcome, and your attention and time are true gifts. Thank you.
Sarah, I love the idea of this space. Listening without already having an answer. Feeling the words land in your body and holding them. Feeling how they resonate. I look forward to reading more and look forward to listening!