It’s ‘Loud Day’ in our neighborhood today. It’s not even Saturday, when mowing is popular. This is a gorgeous autumn afternoon. There is freshness, warmth, and color, and energy all around. It started with extra loud morning birds, the Jays being prominent (of course). I was charmed and didn’t think anything of it. As the day’s audio experiences mounted, my mind wandered to the very definition of quiet: last week’s brief, mid-week excursion up north to be on a lake in the mountains. On the way home, we got to the sea in time for a low-tide walk, a somewhat louder experience of quiet.
So it was noise that led me to this entry and to share quietness using some non-quiet words.
I’ll speak in a soft voice.
I’m not sure if anyone lives close enough to hear these mountaintop wind turbines. They are silent at this distance. On cloudy, misty days they are downright ghostly. On this calm day, if they moved, they moved slowly and hypnotically.
Walk almost done. Clouds are called to mountains. We lean into the coming evening.
An outrageous gift of sight: filtered last-light sun onto clouds, pond and mountains looking along.
It is the place where words fail, if only for a few minutes. Keep staring and I hope you see what I mean.
The final kiss of the day.
Any questions?
Let’s be clear. Sometimes quietness can be creepy. It can amplify fears, sadness, or unsettled memories and voices that stomp around in your head.
All heartache is more obvious in the deep quiet. It is the nature of our heart to be heard. We get our best chance for letting it speak if we give it quiet places.
Sustained listening gives us a quietness that sticks with us as we find our way back to land, back to the painful headlines, or back to our noisy neighborhood day.
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Thursday, 10/12/23. Here is a sampling of my in-your-face audio day.
A couple of hours after the innocent loud Blue Jays, somebody’s inside alarm of some sort, a continuous electronic monotonous pitch that has you feeling like a mosquito is in your ear. This persisted from about 8ish am to 5pm ….an all day mosquito. Hard to locate the house source and we all had our theories. It bounced down an alleyway, through a side yard between two houses, then dispersed to a half-dozen houses. None of us called the fire department, though we all agreed they would investigate.
A city sidewalk repair in front of our house was brief, but then a table saw started up somewhere. A unique type of audio assault: buzz and biting hardwood, escalating to a stressful, high, raspy, grinding pitch, then it blessedly stopped and we are all relieved. But eventually it started again, driving talking neighbors to go inside or part ways, gotta go! Nice to see you and catch up.
Creating some lightness is Honey, a known barker. The neighbor’s cute, energetic little dog is getting better, but not today–today she’s easily jangled and bark-reactive whenever a friend or family member drops by.
An occasional, normal fire engine siren completes the airwaves.
Beautiful photos. Beautiful words.
Author
Thank you my love.
I loved this Wendy. the expansiveness of quiet when I am at my favorite beach, and the way my breathing slowly aligns with each wave is nothing short of whole body calmness.
It’s much the same with singing. I take a deep breath and then my voice joins the dance with the other musicians. Sometimes it feels like a soaring bird. Other times it sounds like a murder of crows. But it is in the silence where the rest makes sense, where pictures and memories rise to meet us once more.
thanks for this lovely reminder.
Author
Thank you for your beautiful comment Jo(yce). I love your singing. And whole body calmness is what it’s all about!
Love your photos, Wendy, and beautiful words.
Author
Thank you Nancy. I really appreciate your comment.