I listen to parenting books on tape.

Hilaria Baldwin, in a moment of honesty both simple and profound, once said: “I listen to parenting books on tape.” To the hurried ear, it may seem a passing remark about a modern convenience. Yet in truth, it speaks of something timeless: the humility to learn, the willingness to seek wisdom, and the recognition that even in the sacred task of raising children, no one walks with perfect knowledge. Her words are a reminder that the journey of parenting is not a solitary act of instinct alone, but a path where guidance, reflection, and learning are noble companions.

The origin of this thought lies in the reality of modern life, where mothers and fathers are often stretched thin by the weight of many duties. Baldwin, balancing the demands of public life and private devotion, admitted that wisdom need not be sought only in quiet libraries or long hours of study. Even while moving through the tasks of daily life, one can learn. To listen to books on tape is to proclaim that seeking guidance is not shameful but wise, that the modern parent must adapt, must draw knowledge in any form, and must welcome wisdom wherever it is found.

History offers us parallels, though the mediums were different. In ancient times, young leaders sat at the feet of philosophers, drinking in their counsel while also bearing the burdens of command. Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, carried with him the teachings of the Stoics, reminding himself in stolen moments of the discipline and love needed to govern wisely. Baldwin’s listening is of the same essence: to remain a student, even while acting as a guide to others. To raise children is a kind of rulership, not of empire, but of souls. And the wise parent, like the wise emperor, never ceases to learn.

Her words also rebuke the arrogance of those who believe parenting requires no preparation. Too often, people trust only instinct or tradition, believing themselves beyond correction. But Baldwin’s confession—I listen—reveals the heart of a true seeker. Parenting is not diminished by guidance; it is strengthened by it. The greatest leaders consult counselors, the greatest warriors train endlessly, and the greatest parents open themselves to wisdom, even from voices recorded in books they may never meet.

There is also a gentle humility in her phrase. She does not boast of mastery, but admits to learning. In an age where many seek perfection in appearance, her words remind us that authenticity lies in admitting what we do not know. A mother or father who listens, who studies, who humbles themselves before knowledge, shows more strength than one who pretends certainty while stumbling in silence. For listening is the first act of wisdom, and those who listen become better guides to those who depend on them.

The lesson for us is profound: in every station of life—parent, worker, leader, or friend—remain a learner. Do not despise knowledge, no matter its source. Use the tools of your age—books, recordings, teachings—to enrich your soul and strengthen your service to others. If you are raising children, let Baldwin’s words remind you that no one is born with all answers, and that humility before wisdom is the surest path to growth.

Therefore, let this wisdom be passed down: do not walk alone in ignorance when the voices of the wise are near. Seek counsel. Embrace learning. Let every stage of life be guided not only by instinct but by the wisdom of those who have walked the road before you. For as Baldwin has shown in her simple confession, listening is not weakness—it is strength, and it is the mark of those who love deeply enough to seek to do better.