The Eternal Listener (a self analysis)

They rarely acknowledged my existence.  I felt invisible at times, being there and yet not being there.  It was a strange sort of twilight zone I seemed to be living in. my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes and dreams churning around inside me continuously waiting for that precious invitation for an outpouring.

The waiting would sometimes last for days but then eventually it would come like water to the thirsty.

I always waited patiently for that moment of truth, as I opened my mouth to speak, to have my chance at last, to let them know of my ideas and to be seen for what I was.  A heart full of love and compassion, a comforter for the lost and homeless, an ear for the deaf and a voice for the voiceless.  I was always there to step into the breach, just waiting to be called.

But just as my moment arrives, when I have every eye on me, it happens.  It's almost as if it happens with pre-planned precision.  They all start talking at the same time, joking and discussing amongst themselves, overriding my utterances.  My thoughts and dreams are stillborn yet again, without being given a chance at birth.

I wonder sometimes, why do they bother to ask me questions?  Is it a thinly disguised attempt at concern or interest?  Do they derive some sort of depraved pleasure from this humiliation of a sincere soul?

Yesterday I left them all behind, just wandered off.  They wouldn’t have noticed, possibly they never did.

I walked for quite some time, with no thought of direction or purpose.  As the distance from them lengthened I could feel my flame growing stronger and my spirit gaining new heights.  I knew that a short while away from them would rejuvenate me.

Then I found my home, the place I was wanted, where I was needed.  Here there was room for me.  It was like returning to the warm hearth of childhood, where everyone counted.

You may ask where it was that I found myself, and why I felt so comfortable at last.

It was a place of shelter for the homeless – the drifters and vagabonds.  A place to relax and just to be.  Here there was neither judge, jury nor condemnation.  Possibly because there were no time limits to restrain the natural order of things.  Thoughts flowed like steady rain and the generosity was as rich as wild honey.  It was a generosity that we all need and yet so few have.  Those who have nothing always seem to have it.  It was the kind of generosity that stretches beyond who we are and what we do.  The kind that overlooks faults and stumblings.  In essence it was love.

I have often been back there, to the vagabonds and drifters.  When my spirits need to be lifted and my heart warmed.  It tends to bring me down a peg or two, at the same time welcoming me home for a brief respite.  It makes me realize what the important things really are.  To be loved and accepted unconditionally.

I have learnt how to adjust to the different needs of people.  It they want me to listen to their ramblings, I shall do so and if they want me to share my thoughts, I know they will give me the opportunity.  Until the time comes for them to explore my world, I shall remain a silent listener, ever alert to the anguish of others.

Cally

1993