Have you ever sat in deep stillness—not focusing on anything in particular, not trying to concentrate—but simply being quiet?When the mind is truly still, when there is no movement within, we begin to hear everything.
The whirring of the fan, the ticking of the clock, the vehicles outside—suddenly, all sounds become alive to us.In that silence, we hear distant sounds, nearby sounds, and those right next to us.And from this, it becomes evident that the human mind is not limited to one narrow direction; it has the potential to be fully awake to the life around it
If we could listen with such openness—without effort, without resistance—then a remarkable transformation begins to unfold within.
This transformation does not happen by will or force; it simply arises.In that transformation, there is depth, a distinct kind of energy, and a heightened alertness. In such moments, we truly hear ourselves.Listening is a profoundly subtle art—an art so few in this world truly understand.
It brings about a natural clarity, for in this kind of listening, the mind does not interfere. We are simply present, listening fully in the moment.But how do we usually listen?
Most of the time, we translate what we hear through the filters of knowledge, belief, and bias. We’re not just hearing—we’re evaluating, interpreting, and reacting. There’s always a mental commentary running between the sound and our attention.
Can an agitated mind listen in its entirety? True listening requires immense patience—a silence that is not forced, not practiced, but one that arises on its own.
It is a silence that is present in every moment, allowing us to listen not just to what we want to hear, but to everything. Perhaps then, we even begin to hear beyond words—the very emotion that gives birth to words.
It no longer matters whether we are hearing our boss or the traffic; we are present to each sound as it is. In such listening, we discover a sense of unwavering stillness—a stability that exists within every passing moment.Every sound that enters us passes through an internal process.
When we hear a bird, our mind rushes to name it, to picture it, to recall memories. Pleasant words generate good feelings, harsh words generate unpleasant ones. But when we listen with full awareness, the bird’s name, the meaning of good or bad words—they no longer matter.
We simply listen.Who can listen like this? Only one who is fully present in the moment. Have you ever seen a dog listening? It’s alert to every sound—not through thought or memory, but through pure attention. This is why its responses are instinctively perfect.
A child, too, listens in this way. It absorbs our tone, our emotion, our facial expressions—without judgment. For the child, there are no “old” or “new” experiences. Everything is fresh.As we grow older, thought strengthens, memory accumulates, and we begin to listen selectively.
We hear only what we think is necessary. And in this, life becomes confined—we live in a limited world of limited words and emotions.So how do we listen without thought? When do we listen without the mind interfering?
Listening to the people around us, listening to ourselves, listening to the chirping birds, the departing cars—can we listen even in the absence of sound? And can we ever control what sounds arise, or when they arise?We may be listening peacefully and suddenly a phone rings.
We listen to it—and then the sound fades. But we remain alert. Even the subtlest sounds are happening all the time. And to truly listen, the mind must be quiet. Only then can we listen to ourselves—our cunning, our foolishness, our desires, our anger.
Then there is no distinction between the chatter of the mind, the sound of a friend’s voice, or the chirping of a bird. We are simply listening. In this listening, there is no interference, no effort. And it is not some great spiritual achievement either.
If a train passes nearby, we hear it without choice. We don’t resist it—it just is. But when an inner voice arises, we choose how to respond, whether to listen or ignore. When there is no choice, then we can listen to both the inner and outer world in total attention.
I look at a tree. Its leaves, its roots, its branches. But then the name arises, the memory follows, the facts gather. And now, I am no longer seeing the tree—I’m seeing my mind’s interpretation of it. I no longer see its wholeness.
To truly see or listen—this does not happen through the eyes or ears alone. It arises from an effortless insight. Our eyes may be open, but we’re not searching. Our ears may be open, but we’re not grasping for sound.
Listening is indeed a difficult art. Because the mind reacts to every sound—it links it to memory, to meaning, to opinion. And in doing so, it creates a barrier. But when we become aware of that barrier, the sounds remain—but the resistance vanishes.
Then it makes no difference if someone praises or insults us. It doesn’t matter if the voice belongs to a powerful official or a beggar on the street, a child or an animal, a politician or a monk. Listening remains—while the “listener” within fades.When we listen like this, the mind becomes like a calm river.
Then we grasp the meaning of a word in the moment—not hours later, not through imagination or memory. We hear it, and it passes. Another arises—and it too passes. A steady silence remains within.
A silence not forced by discipline or effort—but one that simply is.Listening is a complete process of living. In true listening, we go beyond words, beyond ideas, beyond thought—into a space where only silence remains.And from this silence, all words are born—and into this silence, they all dissolve.
This is liberation from the noises that have bound us.But only one who truly listens—not just to the world, but to themselves—can know this liberation. When we begin to listen to our inner voices, our inner conflicts, and sufferings—without resisting, without giving them meaning or interpretation—then the noise within gradually ceases.
What remains is just listening—a listening that continues moment by moment.So, anyone who truly wants to learn this art must stop saying, “I want to listen to this but not that. I want to hear praise, not criticism.
I want to hear positivity, not negativity. I want to hear motivational words, not fearful ones.” When we go beyond these inner conflicts and listen to everything, this art of listening begins to flower naturally—without discipline, without method, without effort.
Then, we listen from the depth of silence—a silence that never ends. Sounds may come and go, but this silence remains. No sound from the world can disturb it, for it is born within.
It blooms on its own, like a flower—without our doing—and its fragrance spreads into every corner of life.Conflict between the mind and the word arises only when there is inner resistance—when we are something inside and something else outside.
When there is no such conflict, only listening remains—a listening that is deep, pure, and free. A listening that has life.