listening to syracuse

I’ve moved to a different corner of the country.

The goodbyes got said and the stuff got packed. After three days here I can say that it’s an adjustment, and the people I’ve interacted with are incredibly hospitable and genuinely nice. 

I was the first to arrive, and as I explored my house and thought/prayed about meeting my new housemates in the morning before the chaos of moving in and “orientation,” an odd command emerged from that silence. Listen to this place. After so many months of trying to speak, trying to pull what I could out of myself to give away, looking for a voice, it seemed a little fruitless. To listen when I am finally gaining readiness to speak?

But maybe listening and speaking well are more interwoven than I usually think. Maybe give and take are not alternating activities but simultaneous ones. Maybe I am not as good at listening as I supposed before.

It is a problem with blogging and all generally noisy places – listening may take so much concentration that we just quit.

I’m not sure what exactly it means to listen to a place [the house? the city? a metaphorical place?]. I’ve started with listening to my housemates.

I’ll let you know if Syracuse says anything.

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