There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of
the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if
you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of
strings that somebody else pulls.
One piece which featured the Australian didgeridoo, sparked a creative wildfire. My brush leapt across the page, almost as if by some unseen force. Raucous reds, impatient oranges and joyous yellows danced together. Fellow students later displayed their work, and many of them were inspired by the same piece. However, no two resembled each other. It seemed that where I had heard electric sunshine, others responded with quiet pastel purity or subtle earth tones of the savannah.
As a storyteller, I have to trust the words to speak, but I cannot dictate how others will react. My responsibility is to create a space where my audience can be free to hear what Thurman calls the "sound of the genuine" in themselves. At the same time, we must tune our listening ear and to hear the cries of injustice, pain and suffering. Not every story I tell has a happy ending; not every song we hear brings us joy.
May we ever hear the music all around us, and be genuine enough to paint, to sing, and to follow the path that leads us to our best and truest selves.