I am drawn to the act of listening, not merely hearing sounds, but attuning to the subtle currents that
bind self, other, and the more‑than‑human world.

In the quiet moments of daily meditation I discover that awareness is a form of relationship; it is a way of relating through which the distance between interior and exterior, between me and other, gradually erodes.

When I step into a free‑improvisation circle, the usual hierarchy of performer and audience disintegrates. Every body, voice, object, and breath becomes a common in a shared emergence. A discarded bottle may become a resonant drum; an undulating body may dictate a tempo. These fleeting gestures illustrate a deeper truth: a single local action can set off ripples that travel far beyond its point of origin, even when those pathways are invisible to the eye.

This awareness carries moral and ethical weight when I contemplate the climate crisis. The dominant, extractive mode of living silences many of the delicate feedback loops that sustain ecosystems. When we cease to listen — to the soil, to the water, to the chorus of wildlifes — we also mute the voices that whisper when a system is falling out of balance.

The practice of attentive listening, therefore, might become a modest yet potent way of reopening the possibility of reciprocal exchange, reminding us that wellbeing is a collective, emergent property rather than an individual achievement.

By gathering with people in non‑hierarchical, curiosity — driven play spaces, I feel we are cultivating a commons of listening. Where creativity is not a commodity to be sold but a communal act of discovery and healing; a dialogue that includes humans, objects, and the living world when practiced outdoors.

Each improvised moment, each pause to notice a shifting cloud or a humming insect, each line written, moved, or drawn, stitches a new thread into the fabric that connects us all.

Rita P.
30.11.2025