I don’t know – why not? For almost seven years I’ve worked for The Griffith Observatory – the hood ornament of Los Angeles, CA (as ‘The Director’ likes to call it. And yes, if you follow that link, that is me with the ball in my hand.) For seven years I’ve told people ‘we tell stories about the sky here.’ And for seven years about 33 minutes after I tell them that, men, women and children come up and want to spend some time with me. They linger. They want to shake my hand. They want to make a joke, share their story, kibbitz. They want to wait just a moment longer… before they leave and that fragile, tentative thread is dropped; that thing that they felt is lost; that delicate, intangible moment is shattered and gone forever.
In that telling, in that speaking one to another, we shared a figment, a blessing, a peek into who we were centuries ago when listening and seeing and telling and touching were all we had. When the night sky was ablaze with ‘tiny sparks of light’ and the only thing that kept us teetering on the edge of the great abyss was a blazing fire and a small group of others just like us.
We’ve lost the quiet in many ways. We’ve lost the time. We’ve lost how to listen. And if I can sit on someone’s shoulder and whisper in their ear, tell them a story…. Give them a moment when they can look into who they are…who they were…who they could be….
I narrated a book about a cloistered nun from the 17th century. You know what the word ‘cloistered’ means? If you don’t, look it up. Sister Maria of Agreda, Spain. I thought it was going to be a big yawn. It changed my life. She said, “Every soul without exception is capable of embracing its inner light. Yet in order to receive so delicate an influence, quiet is essential.”
I think , done right, it can start with audiobooks. Kelley Hazen
- Kelley Hazen: narrating a book can be ‘quite literally, transcendent’ (knightofswords.wordpress.com)
- My Muse – Griffith Park Observatory (rhiannonsinteriors.com)