I HAVE PUBLISHED the poem below once before. But recently my friend Hsing-ay Hsu (think Sing-I Shoo), a fine pianist, suggested “pairing’ the poem with a musical composition.

Music and words have formed partnerships for a very long time, and Hsing-ay reminds us that by listening more thoughtfully we can gain deeper understanding both of the words in the poem and of the images that the music evokes. She calls her approach Conscious Listening™, and she is tireless in encouraging students, friends, and colleagues to pay closer attention to what they hear.

For my poem Angular Momentum, she suggested Novelette No. 3 in E Minor by Poulenc. Recently, Hsing-ay performed the composition for a small group at a home concert. Before the performance, I read my poem. We also did the reading and music at a concert earlier this year, video below.

I invite my followers to listen to the Poulenc and read the poem aloud. You will need to read slowly; the composition is a couple of minutes in length. You may discover phrasing in the poem that pairs with phrasing in the music. Try it a couple of times; see if you think the two work together. You might want to note for your own interest how and why you chose a different meter or phrasing on a second or third reading.

Hsing-ay has three suggestions for you:

If you like the music and the poem, please say so. I like ideas, even if, or especially if, they’re beyond my current understanding. And Hsing-ay appreciates feedback on her performances and her listening method.

As an aside, I will say I am reminded of the Psalms in the Old Testament, or of Homer’s Odyssey. The Psalms, for example, were often accompanied by music. 2 Homer's poetry was sung by bards, often to the accompaniment of a lyre. 3 I imaginatively compare such tranquility with the din of today’s urban and suburban life or the shameful tirades so common on social media. I wonder if eventually we will tire of the persistent cacophony that seems to characterize today’s harried lifestyle. Maybe we will slowly begin to embrace anew our front porches and chats with the neighbors. Who knows? As John Lennon sang, you may say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m probably not the only one.

In his column in the New York Times on Friday, David Brooks writes that he sees a changing cultural atmosphere in which people are growing weary of shallow “pagan” worlds and hungry for more depth.4 For some, as Brooks suggests, this means a religious search, and for many others it means turning away — turning away from the tiring language of anger and retribution and towards the words of grace, humility, respect, and fellowship. Can there be any doubt that listening is an essential component? In Hsing-ay’s words:

“Imagine a world where we listen multidimensionally to ourselves and others, stay open-minded about what we don't yet understand, and find personal meaning in how we fit into the big picture.”

You can enjoy more of Hsing-ay’s playing and her ideas on listening by visiting her website. By the way, one of the tabs on her site refers to her writings. You’ll find references here to essays she’s written for a variety of publications, including Psychology Today. Check them out. I think she’s on to something with her ideas about more thoughtful listening.

ANGULAR MOMENTUM

By the brook near my home

I read my poem

words chiseled then rounded

like river stones

and then gone

and when mothers come

dip their babies in its water

never still, always not the same

I wonder, why care about words?

Words are in the river.

Words are in the wind.

Words bend like life.

And then, like an apparition

a mom dips her slender arms

again, retrieves a child

now 20 or 30 or 80 years

Old. Old. Old.

And the river grips

And the rocks shatter

And the stars circle

And forces here and there

Pull and tug as if all words matter.

--Ron Stewart