1965 - In my second year at college, I signed up for a course in Japanese literature and culture. I had heard that the professor was particularly good. Fortunately, his course also fit into my schedule. Mr. Solomon, an appropriate name for a wise man, had a unique way of getting us to inquire about our own concerns. One day, Mr. Solomon stated that anything done with attention becomes interesting. It cannot be annoying or irritating, a popular complaint among the students. One classmate argued, “Yeah right, but what about when the faucet won’t stop dripping? That is just IRRITATING.” This was surely the experience for many of us who lived in high-rise apartments in New York City. In fact, there was an entire protest movement based on dripping faucets featuring the protest song “The Faucets Are Dripping.” I had heard Pete Seeger sing the song with its biting verses and learned to play it on my guitar. Here’s the chorus: The faucets are dripping in Old New York City The faucets are dripping and oh what a pity The reservoir drying because it’s supplying The faucets that drip in New York To hear Pete Seeger sing the entire song go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtQ94J8qLD4 Mr. Solomon smiled and challenged the student. “I don’t believe you have ever actually listened to the dripping faucet. If you did, you could not possibly find it irritating.” This was completely baffling for both the student and for me as well. I had been listening to dripping faucets since I could remember. Mr. Solomon proposed the following assignment for the whole class. “See if you can actually listen to your dripping faucet. Don’t judge what is going on, don’t label it, just listen to it. See if you notice your thoughts while you are listening. See if you can let yourself settle and experience what is happening. Try this for the next three days until our class meets again. Do it for at least 10 minutes at a time”. Although I really had no clue what he was talking about, I decided to give it a go. I chose the leaking faucet in my bathtub for my “listening pleasure”. The first few times I “tried” to listen I found all sorts of excuses for not listening. My thoughts buzzed around: including where I should sit in order to listen. It is a small bathroom. Should I sit on the toilet or the floor? Time passed and I ended the first two sessions still not able to listen. On my third try, I decided to actually focus on whatever listening might really be. I would intentionally leave my thoughts and other distractions alone, select a place to sit, (I sat on the toilet with the seat down), and settled in and listened for the drips. However, I still did not hear the dripping, What I did hear was a cacophony of noise from the apartment building. I heard swooshing water from flushing toilets, creaks from walls, muffled human voices, footsteps in the apartment above, and a number of sounds I could not easily identify. “Wow, this is really loud and I never hear these sounds”. At first, I did not hear anything that sounded like a “leaky faucet,” and the thought popped into my head that the leak was fixed somehow. But I decided to continue listening and then … “plink”. Oh my gosh, I heard the “plink”. I did not hear a “leaky faucet”. It is not possible to actually “hear” a leaky faucet – just the “plink.” Then, a little while later, another “plink” and then two “plinks” in quick succession, and so it continued. I was amazed. Mr. Solomon was quite correct. It is not possible to actually listen and be “irritated” by a leaky faucet. I reported my discovery at our next class meeting. Mr. Solomon simply said “Good start”. 2022 - 57 years later – Most every week, Catherine and I drive with our four dogs to the drive-up window of our local bank. We deposit our checks and withdraw four dog cookies. The dogs are completely familiar with this routine, choose their favorite waiting places in the car, and intensely stare at the window that will deliver the cookies. One of the dogs, Molly, a lab – pit bull mix, stands in such a way that her mouth is directly above my right thigh. While impatiently waiting, the drool begins to form at the corner of her mouth and then it “drips” onto my jeans. I watch as the liquid spreads out and the pattern it makes and, on some occasions, the wisdom of Mr. Solomon comes to mind.
1 Comment
Garry mangion
1/6/2022 04:52:26 am
Well done, enjoyable reading.
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David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |