Deep listening?
What is deep listening
when the listener is gone?
Silence of Being
that has no answers
as all questions cease
Where all questions cease
and no answers form
no conclusions are drawn
Where no conclusions live
no opinions begin
And experience is free to be
Origin Nature of Silence of Being
And Silence of Being
Knows only One
One Life
One Presence
One Breath
One Fragrance
And all reason dissolves as Love
Love that needs no reason
needs no qualification
For to truly love
"I" am not
and Love Is
Reflection
This writing moves into a place that cannot really be called listening anymore, at least not in the ordinary sense.
Ordinarily, listening implies a listener — a center that receives, interprets, judges, agrees, disagrees, or stores what is heard. Listening in the human mind is usually a subtle activity of identity. There is always someone who is listening to something.
But the question at the beginning quietly removes that center:
“What is deep listening when the listener is gone?”
When the listener disappears, listening no longer belongs to a subject. It becomes the openness of Being itself.
This is why the writing immediately turns toward Silence. Not silence as the absence of noise, but silence as the condition of reality when the mind’s structures stop forming themselves.
Questions belong to the mind that seeks to grasp.
Answers belong to the mind that seeks to resolve.
When both cease, what remains is not ignorance — it is direct participation in what is.
That is why the writing says:
“no conclusions are drawn
Where no conclusions live
no opinions begin.”
Opinion requires a position.
Position requires a self that stands somewhere in relation to something else.
But when that self dissolves, reality is not interpreted — it is allowed.
This is why experience becomes free again.
Not free as in “pleasant” or “positive,” but free as in unconfined by the interpreter.
Experience returns to what the poem calls the Origin Nature of Silence of Being.
This phrase points toward something very ancient in mystical understanding: that silence is not merely the absence of speech but the ground from which all existence arises.
In this silence, existence is not fragmented.
It is simply:
One Life
One Presence
One Breath
One Fragrance
These lines move from the metaphysical to the intimate.
Life — the total movement of existence.
Presence — the immediacy of being.
Breath — the living rhythm animating all creatures.
Fragrance — the subtle beauty of existence itself.
This progression shows that the unity being spoken of is not abstract philosophy. It is tangible reality.
And when this unity is seen, reason naturally falls away — not because reason is wrong, but because reason functions only where separation appears.
Where there is no separation, there is nothing to calculate.
Thus the writing says:
“And all reason dissolves as Love.”
This is a profound reversal of how the mind usually understands love.
Normally we believe love needs reasons.
Reasons to trust.
Reasons to care.
Reasons to remain.
But the love revealed here does not arise from reasons.
It precedes them.
It is the very substance of being when nothing stands apart.
This leads to the final movement of the writing:
“For to truly love
‘I’ am not
and Love Is.”
This does not mean a person disappears in a destructive sense.
Rather, the illusion of separateness dissolves.
What remains is the realization that love was never something the self produced.
Love is what remains when the self is no longer occupying the center of existence.
The poem therefore describes a shift from:
listening as an activity of the mind
to listening as the openness of reality itself.
Deep listening, in this sense, is not the effort to hear better.
It is the disappearance of the one who stands apart from what is heard.
When that happens, there is no longer listener and sound, subject and world.
There is only the quiet flowering of being itself — breathing, moving, and loving without division.
And in that condition, listening and love become the same thing.