Sooner or later I have to tell the conductors of the orchestras in which I play to tell me very loudly, and very firmly what they want me to hear; what they want me to do. I will do what they ask, usually without embarrassment.
I am not hard of hearing, but difficult to penetrate. “Why”? I ask my self. Egocentric? Unwilling, uncaring? Perhaps my own meanderings fill every nook and cranny of my interpretive self, and I leave no openings for more.
Perhaps I hear inner voices loudly claiming, clamoring, competing, unwilling to move over, to make room. Perhaps I am blocking, and merely want to keep noise’s excess managed.
“Tell me loudly and I will hear!”