You are a storyteller. I am a storyteller.
Estimated reading time: 9 minutes
That’s not a title. It is not reserved for novelists, filmmakers, or songwriters. It is what we do when we create, whether through words, music, brush strokes, or beats. We take raw experience and shape it into something that resonates.
Table Of Contents
I wasn’t searching for insight when I stumbled on a quote from John Berger, but it landed like truth often does, quiet and impossible to ignore:
“If I am a storyteller, it’s because I listen.”
That stopped me, not in a dramatic, cinematic way, just a long pondering, a mental stillness, because it reframed my thought process.
Maybe creativity does not begin when we speak, sing, or play. Perhaps it starts earlier when we are paying attention and absorbing the world. When we are not performing for it.
That idea stuck with me. And the more I looked, the more I saw it echoed by artists, writers, and musicians who shape culture and make us feel less alone. They all listen first. And maybe that’s the secret we forget in the noise: the storyteller listens before they speak.
Yossi Katzin
Today, in the park, I met a man named Yossi Katzin. He had a simple sign that read: “Give me advice.” Naturally, I had to ask him why.
He told me he wasn’t looking for solutions; he was looking for connection, not the kind you have to calendar, not friendships bound by obligation, just honest, spontaneous human conversation.
Yossi said listening to strangers helped him think things through without exhausting the people closest to him. “There’s only so much social capital you can expect from your friends,” he said. “Strangers are a clean slate.”
We talked about his short story, “The Rod of the Sons of Amram.” It explores Moses, the serpent, and rebellion. Yossi described it as rooted in his deep, personal study of scripture, not as a doctrine but as raw source material. He’s read most of the Hebrew Bible in Hebrew, is learning Greek to tackle the New Testament, and plans to learn Arabic next. His goal? To understand the story of God from all sides, even if his questions are heretical, even if they’re unanswerable.
Am I Listening?
I walked away, reminded of what Berger had said:
“If I am a storyteller, it’s because I listen.”
Yossi is listening to the world, not to change or fix it, but to make sense of it. And that? That is what all of us storytellers do.
Berger’s quote made more sense after talking with Yossi. Listening is not always quiet, and it is never passive but active and engaged. It is how we make sense of the world and our place in it. The most powerful artists I know, across music, writing, and beyond, do not just create. They listen first. To people, to silence, to discomfort, to their own doubt. This is the place where the real stories live. And the ones who tap into that? They are the ones worth paying attention to.
Pauline Oliveros – Composer & Deep Listening Pioneer
Who was Pauline Oliveros (1932–2016)? She was an American composer and accordionist who pioneered the “Deep Listening” concept, emphasizing heightened awareness of sound, silence, and the environment.
“Deep Listening is listening to everything all the time, and reminding yourself when you’re not. But going below the surface too, it’s an active process.”
When I first read that, I thought about how often I rush. Rushing through writing. Through mixes. Through people. But creativity isn’t in the rush. It is in the attention and catching the things other people tune out. I’ve had moments in the studio where something felt off, and it was not in the notes; it was in the air. This identifies the listening Oliveros is talking about. Not just hearing better but being more present.
And this is matter for all of us musicians, writers, painters, and storytellers. If we’re not paying attention, we’re just filling space. Oliveros teaches us to stop chasing noise and start honoring sound. The room, the silence, the pause, that is part of the story too. Deep listening isn’t just a method. It’s a mindset. One that says, “I’m here. I’m awake. And I’m ready to receive.”
Brian Harnetty – Composer & Sound Artist
Brian Harnetty is an interdisciplinary artist and composer who integrates field recordings and archival materials into his work. He emphasizes “contemplative listening” to engage with communities and histories.
That hit me because we fool ourselves into thinking we have things figured out and that we have the answers.
Real listening, the kind that changes you, isn’t tidy. You don’t know what you’ll find when you press record. Or when you sit down with someone and ask, “What’s your story?” That uncertainty? That’s where the good stuff lives. That’s where truth hides.
As creators, it’s easy to get obsessed with our own output. But Harnetty flips the script. He is not broadcasting but rather receiving. In doing so, he reminds us that storytelling isn’t just self-expression. It is interpretation. It’s a willingness to be surprised, change your mind, and discover. When we really listen, we don’t just create better art; we become better humans.
Arlo Parks – Singer-Songwriter & Poet
Arlo Parks is a British singer-songwriter and poet known for her introspective lyrics and soulful melodies. She often draws inspiration from literature and emphasizes the importance of listening in her creative process.
What she’s describing isn’t passive listening. I see it as creative oxygen. For Parks and me, being surrounded by music isn’t a distraction; it is immersion. It is like she’s tuning her inner frequency to something outside herself before she dares to write.
That resonates with me. I have walked into the studio with nothing and walked out with a song because something in the room, be it the right track or the right tone, something was unlocked in me.
Parks lives in that space where inspiration enters through the ears before it ever hits the page.
Listening does not have to be reflective, but rather, it can be catalytic. When you open yourself to other people’s sound, style, and spirit, you don’t become less original but more open.
Stephen R. Covey – Listening to Understand
Stephen R. Covey was an American author and leadership expert best known for The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. His work focused on personal responsibility and building trust, principles that resonate with anyone trying to create purposefully.
“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”
Been there. Done that. We all have. Most of us are not listening; we are reloading, trying to figuring out our response while the other person is still talking. That’s not communication. It is competition. You are not in a duel if you listen to the other person.
Covey is right: real listening takes discipline. You must shut off the voice that wants to sound smart, be right, and prove a point. That voice is the enemy of growth. Whether in a band rehearsal, a writing session, or a one-on-one conversation, you don’t get better by defending what you already think. You grow by hearing what you have been missing.
Listening to understand? That’s where the good stuff is. The nuance. The subtext. The things they weren’t quite saying but needed you to hear. If you’re serious about your craft, whatever it is, get serious about listening. Not just to reply. To receive.
Karl A. Menninger – Listening as Creation
“Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand.”
Menninger is right. Real listening doesn’t just support people. Real listening builds people.
You can see it happen in real-time. A person starts out cautious and unsure. But then you really listen and hear their presence; suddenly, they come alive. It is akin to creating a space for their soul to rise.
I’ve seen it in the studio. A vocalist walks in, unsure of the lyric they wrote. We talk. I ask questions. I shut up. And somewhere in that stillness, the truth shows up, and so does the performance. Not because I told them what to do. I only listened hard enough to let them hear themselves.
Menninger wasn’t talking about some passive act of politeness. He described listening as creative energy, the kind of energy that brings out the best in another person.
Truly? We’re all trying to do that with our art anyway: help people unfold. Maybe even help ourselves do the same.
And In The End
The question?
Before you hit publish, before you play the next note, and you tell your next story, ask yourself:
Not just to others, but to the room, the silence, and the hesitation. Did I listen to the truth hiding in plain sight?
That’s where your next great work is waiting. Go find it.
Can We Help You?
How does your current creative output compare to what you know you’re capable of?
Thanks for reading.
If this post sparked something in you, pass it on.
Please share it with someone who knows what listening means or needs the reminder.
Leave a comment. I’d love to hear what listening has taught you.
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Let’s keep the signal strong and the noise low.
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