Watching these people and the way they interacted with each other, I could not help but be impressed. But there was another feeling, difficult to define. Was I possibly jealous of this Quechua family? There was no denying that I who had never known poverty or hunger felt, if not jealous, at least envy for their ability to enjoy so completely each other, their work, the meager food and homes they shared, and all that was around them. I had learned that Andean Indians often talk to nature. It is not uncommon to hear a man or woman murmur words of greeting to a bird, flower, or cloud. Such things are a part of their lives and the source of immense pleasure. Was it possible that these people knew something I did not understand? Could I learn from the Quechua what my own culture and background had failed to teach?
Listening to others clearly opens the way to understanding the situation. But listening to others requires quieting some of the voices that already exist within us. When this happens, there is space not only for our own truest voice, what the Quakers call the still small voice within. This voice always tells us the truth. And, as Alice Walker has said,
"...the inner voice can be very scary sometimes. You listen, and then you go 'Do whut?' I don't wanna do that! But you still have to pay attention to it."
We need to take time to quiet down and listen to ourselves with attention -- not only in the midst of action, but when we are alone ... we need to listen fully. It is the basis of all compassionate action.