Yesterday I promised some mind-knitting in today's post. Both mañana-ish and vague. Today I must deliver on the promise. Which is difficult, considering that 'mind-knitting' was the product of a wool brain. Which makes me think of a head full of tangled threads. Which leads me to...
...'The Listening String.' A concept that Peter and I created during an improv show. It's an invisible thread through which you can tune into the truth of any situation. We invented it by accident, but it worked brilliantly. During any scene, we could enter, pick up 'The String' and reveal hidden subtext or information to the audience. 'The String' quickly became universal - all players could use it, to take the most mundane scene to a new level.
It's been on my mind a great deal recently. Probably because Radio 4 is advertising 'The Listening Project' - which aims to record and preserve conversations between two people on subjects that matter to them. Conversations. Not monologues.
'The String' also requires two people to make it work - one at each end (a bit like a yoghurt pot/string telephone). I don't know why it works. But it does. Two of you, listening in the right way, can quite clearly hear things. Not literally (I'm not hallucinating). It's more that in the silence of attending together to a pretend string, you create the space to hear each other's minds. So the 'truths' are obvious and known to both.
This was in 2005. A long time ago, but the concept stayed with me. I would like to use 'The String' more. Not everybody else knows it's there though. (Some people do though.)
So. There's my mind-knitting. 'The Listening String'. You can use it, but you have to choose it. To pick up your end and bother to listen.
Go on.
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