If The Time Comes When Our Culture

Loneliness Is A Barrier That Prevents One From Uniting With The Inner Self.

When A Person Realizes He Has Been Deeply Heard, His Eyes Moisten. I Think In Some Real Sense He Is Weeping For Joy. It Is As Though He Were Saying, "thank God, Somebody Heard Me. Someone Knows What It's Like To Be Me".

I Hear The Words, The Thoughts, The Feeling Tones, The Personal Meaning, Even The Meaning That Is Below The Conscious Intent Of The Speaker. Sometimes Too, In A Message Which Superficially Is Not Very Important, I Hear A Deep Human Cry That Lies Buried And Unknown Far Below The Surface Of The Person. So I Have Learned To Ask Myself, Can I Hear The Sounds And Sense The Shape Of This Other Person's Inner World? Can I Resonate To What He Is Saying So Deeply That I Sense The Meanings He Is Afraid Of, Yet Would Like To Communicate, As Well As Those He Knows?

The Action Of The Child Inventing A New Game With His Playmates; Einstein Formulating A Theory Of Relativity; The Housewife Devising A New Sauce For The Meat, A Young Author Writing His First Novel; All Of These Are In Terms Of Definition, Creative, And There Is No Attempt To Set Them In Some Order Of More Or Less Creative.

It Is Astonishing How Elements That Seem Insoluble Become Soluble When Someone Listens, How Confusions That Seem Irremediable Turn Into Relatively Clear Flowing Streams When One Is Heard.