Listening With Care: On Compassionate Audio and the Power of Story

Creating safe audio spaces—holding space through sound, one conversation at a time.

by

Kris Cirkuit

There’s something inherently intimate about audio. Without images, without eye contact, we’re left with just the voice—and everything it carries. Hesitation. Laughter. Strength. The tiny human pauses where life spills out.

Recently, I’ve been working with the Edinburgh-based third sector organisation Rowan Alba on a project that asked for that kind of deep listening. The goal was simple: to record stories. But the reality, of course, was far more complex—and far more rewarding.

Stories That Stay With You

Rowan Alba’s work is centred around long-term, compassionate support—meeting people where they’re at, without judgement. Their CARDS service offers regular social contact to people who might otherwise be isolated, helping them build and maintain a stable, connected life.

As part of their ongoing mission, they wanted to capture the lived experiences of those involved in the service: clients, volunteers, and staff alike. Not a glossy promo. Not a marketing piece. Just real people, in their own words, reflecting on the journeys they’ve been on—and the changes they’ve made.

I was brought in to make those recordings.

Building Safe Space

Technically, the process was familiar—find a quiet, accessible, affordable venue; set up the Zoom H6 recorder; and begin the recording. I’ve captured audio many times before, so the setup itself came easily. But this wasn’t just recording background sound or structured interviews—these were tender, often emotional conversations. The challenge lay not in the equipment, but in creating a space where people felt safe enough to speak openly, and in holding that space with the care it deserved.

Emotionally, this project asked something different of me.

To get to the heart of a story—especially one marked by difficulty, resilience, and change—you need more than just a mic. You need trust. You need time. You need to know when to speak and when to stay silent. And above all, you need to listen with care.

These weren’t casual chats. They were real, sometimes raw exchanges. Many of the people I spoke with had experienced addiction, trauma, and homelessness. Their willingness to speak at all was an act of bravery. My role was to hold that space responsibly—to honour what was shared, without intruding or overexposing.

Editing with Integrity

Once the recordings were complete, the next stage was post-production. I edited everything in Ableton Live—carefully, respectfully, and always with the intention of protecting the speaker.

In many cases, I pulled just five minutes from an hour-long conversation. Not because the rest wasn’t valuable—but because a short clip, handled well, can carry a huge emotional weight. Where needed, I altered voices to protect anonymity. Where stories touched on trauma, I was especially mindful not to amplify distress.

After editing, I mastered each recording to ensure clarity, consistency, and a calm listening experience. This final stage helped bring a sense of cohesion across the different voices and spaces, making sure that despite the varied environments and emotions, the recordings held together with both technical polish and emotional sensitivity.

This kind of editing isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about ethics.

Why It Matters

The resulting audio pieces are now live on Rowan Alba’s website, and I’m proud of the impact they’re already having. The recordings are helping to:

• Highlight the effectiveness of the organisation’s approach: person-centred, patient, compassionate support.

• Encourage new clients to attend social events by sharing the stories of others who’ve overcome hesitation.

• Secure further funding to ensure the continuation of this vital work.

But beyond that, the project reminded me—again—why I do what I do. Working on this pushed me emotionally, yes. It asked me to slow down, to pay attention, to really hear people. And in doing so, I learned more about myself, too.

Continuing the Work

I’ll be continuing to work with Rowan Alba on this project, and I’m grateful for the trust they’ve placed in me. It's rare to be part of something that feels both creatively fulfilling and genuinely useful.

These are the kinds of stories that stay with you. Not just because of what they say—but because of how they were shared. Carefully. Quietly. In someone’s own time, and their own words.

And that, I think, is the heart of good audio work. Not just recording voices—but holding them, respectfully, in sound.