Lend me your ears.

Let’s TALK about LISTENING. 

See what I did there? That’s how TERRIBLE we are at listening. High on my very long list of “to do” inner work (practicing kindness and compassion that doesn’t expect recognition or repayment, offering ACTIVE help rather than passive talk about helping, creating and giving more positive energy, lovingly letting go of attachments to things and people that aren’t in some way life-giving, not burning the potato soup, and so much more) is striving to become a better listener.

If you pay attention to most conversations—really pay attention—you’ll quickly notice this pattern: Someone speaks to you, but you don’t really pay attention or register what they’re saying. Your mind is already busy planning/rehearsing what you’ll say next about YOURSELF. And as soon as the person speaking to you takes a breath or pauses, you shove into the “conversation” something similar, relatable, better, more interesting, or wonderful about YOURSELF. And while you’re talking, the person you’re talking to isn’t listening to you, either…they’re busy getting ready with whatever they’ll shove into the next pause. Ad infinitum.

Good listening is essential, I think, for these reasons and more:

• It can build relationship, community, trust, and mutual respect.
• It can teach us to distinguish nuances, tone, subtleties that can reveal another person’s needs.
• It can teach us about unfamiliar "others." (There really are no others, in the "we're all one" sense of humanity...)
• It can bridge differences between people, but only if we give our FULL ATTENTION.

Most people on this planet long to be heard, but it’s as if we’re all talking about ourselves at once, so NO ONE is really listening. We can’t give our full attention and plan our next monologue at the same time. And listening is so much more than just waiting for our turn to talktalktalk; listening is an ACTIVE art, and like any art, we need practice. We need to practice slowing down, calming ourselves, and giving our speaking partners UNDIVIDED attention.

Think of the way babies and children learn—we think they’re often idling away their time in thoughtless bliss, but as a mom of three who swears like a pirate, trust me—they’re usually listening carefully. The old saying, “It’s more important what comes out of your mouth than what you put in it,” is actually a gem of listening (and dieting) wisdom.

So how did we get to be so terrible at listening? It may be partly the myth of multitasking and our modern obsession with busy-ness. But I’m with creative strategist (whatever that is) Noah Rabinowitz when he suggests our inability or unwillingness to listen is mostly the result of unchecked and/or undisciplined EGO (the culprit in most of my necessary inner work). I like how he explains the ways EGO undermines our ability to truly listen:

-- Preoccupation with Self: When our ego is in control, we become preoccupied with our own thoughts, opinions, and experiences. This self-centered focus makes it difficult to genuinely listen to others….

-- Need to Be Right: The ego often drives the need to be right and to win arguments (debates). This need can lead to interrupting others, dismissing their viewpoints, or not fully considering their perspectives. Instead of listening to understand, we listen to find flaws in the other person’s argument and to assert our own correctness.

-- Fear of Vulnerability: The ego protects us from feeling vulnerable. Truly listening to someone else requires us to open up to their ideas and emotions, which can be uncomfortable. The ego resists this by keeping us guarded and defensive, preventing us from fully engaging in the conversation.

-- Judgment and Assumptions: The ego often leads us to judge others and make assumptions about their thoughts and intentions….We filter what they say through our biases, frequently missing the core essence of their message.

I’m not saying better listening would solve the world’s problems, but I’m pretty sure it would help. It’s our 37th wedding anniversary this month, the alabaster anniversary. I can’t see gifting Ray an alabaster statue of Socrates, so maybe I’ll give him the gift of really listening to him—for a day, at least. 😉

Can it get much colder? Always.

Consider this our “Christmas card/letter,” which I gave up sending out on the regular back when I spent every minute of my holiday break grading essays/finals, prepping for a new semester, and squeezing in a day or two of decorating/shopping/making/wrapping/cooking.

It’s 2026 now, and we’re currently in an arctic deep freeze. Right now it’s 1 degree (wind chill of -7), but it’s been colder in the past week. And none of this is as cold as the turned shoulders in Washington or ICE in Minneapolis.

Winter’s never a joke around here, so it pays to be prepared. As our friend Spiro says about South Dakota winter, “It keeps the riffraff out” of our fine state. (Sadly, politics may have changed our “finery” some, and we may now be attracting riffraff.) We’ve been lucky weather wise—can one be “lucky” in the face of global climate change?—and have had milder winters these last couple of years. Seriously, we probably could have kayaked a couple times last winter. This year seems a “real” winter, though.

Ray is busy with his winter “lockdown” activities—archiving digital music and transferring CDs, tapes, and vinyl to digital; refining/reorganizing several notebooks of chord charts and lyrics; and practicing guitar and trombone daily (you haven’t lived until the trombone version of “Moon River” wafts through your heat ducts). He plays drums every Friday with his pals at our Little Town Watering Hole, a weekly gathering we like to call “church.” And he spent part of his pre-holiday time playing with an annual touring Christmas show, A Holiday for Fiddles.

Meanwhile, I’m off to later this week as a facilitator for two out-of-town stops in the 3rd year of the South Dakota State Poetry Society’s POETRY ON THE ROAD. I’ve been criss-crossing the state from last September till May with other SDSPS members, giving readings and holding open mics in 21 or so South Dakota communities.

My 4th poetry book, Hysterian, came out from Finishing Line Press in August, and we had a wonderful book launch at our Little Town Library, with a reading, slide show, and discussion. Three of our four kids showed up to pitch in—daughter brought her delicious baked treats, younger son videotaped, older son staffed the book sales table, and grandkids ran amok. My fifth book, Stroke Stroke, comes out in February. I’m otherwise busy with jigsaw puzzles (very meditative), knitting silly hats, and being trained by chihuahua Fiona Diane, Goddess of the Hunt (aka Fifi, aka Phoebe, aka Tyrant-osaurus Regina, aka The Boss) to heel and obey.

While we wait for Jack Blizzard to throw his next tantrum—it’s inevitable—the larder is stocked with our summer garden gifts, we’re warm, and we’re enjoying semi-hibernation. Kid visits are always a highlight, and three dogs, 12 canaries, and a 29-year-old grey parrot keep us on our toes. Yes, it may take a LOT of Advil to limber up again in the spring. Yes, we may need to renew our gym memberships to conquer the Festivity Flab. Yes, we may be hairier and muskier when the doors open again for good in April or May. But we’re hearty prairie people, and by gum, we’re just swell.

Wishing you and yours a prosperous, peaceful new year, and wishing us all sanity and justice ASAP.

Fiona, Pretzel, and Pedro