A Conversation with Sally Assor

We welcome Quietude Practitioner Sally Assor to share something of her journey, her work and the reflections that continue to unfold through her practice.

What drew you to the work of Quietude?

I first heard about Quietude through a fellow member of the Heart of London Threshold Choir. As she spoke about her experience, I felt a deep sense of resonance and promptly applied for the next available training opportunity.

I was drawn to give focused time and attention to the conversation of death and dying, a conversation that is so often hushed or avoided, despite death walking hand in hand with life.

Quietude offered me an opportunity to explore this conversation in the company of like-minded seekers who, almost immediately, came to feel like family. There was a rare sense of harmony amongst us, and I didn’t want our learning time together to end.

What has unfolded through the Quietude journey?

One of the most meaningful things continuing to unfold for me is a growing awareness of the difference between listening with empathy and practising compassionate presence.

Empathic listening comes quite naturally to me, but I’ve come to recognise that I can become so immersed in another person’s experience that I lose touch with my own.

Compassionate presence feels different. For me, it is an intentional practice of bringing my full, focused attention to another person while remaining aware of what is happening within me.

I’m learning to notice when I feel the impulse to reassure, respond or fill a silence, and to resist acting on that impulse automatically. I bring this practice to offering gentle singing at the bedside.

Barry helped me understand this more deeply. As he approached the end of his life, Barry was able to communicate only through the squeeze of a hand.

In Barry’s presence, gentle reminders began to arise within me, almost as though I could hear him speaking directly to me:

As you connect with me, remember to stay connected to yourself.

Ask my permission before reaching out to hold my hand.

Then leave some space and listen closely for my response.

Notice my hand, my breathing, my expression, my stillness.

Could it be that one of the most important qualities of the singing

is the quality of the silence that follows it?

Can you stay with that silence without rushing to fill it?

Who inspires you in your work?

I often return to Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings on impermanence, particularly his image of the cloud continuing as rain.

There is something in that image that I find deeply comforting. His way of looking at continuation offers a reassuring way of being with the mystery.

Sitting with Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings, I found myself writing:

Uncatchable

What’s it like to be here in this time and place?

What’s it like resting back in this empty space?

I cannot catch an answer already in the past,

any more than I can hope to make this moment last.

QUIETUDE® COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT