I’ve taken a break from my Thanksgiving obsession with simplicity (it is just way too complex) and have begun musing about silence. Here’s what I discovered as I walked on the beach, listening for silence. First I noticed that the chatter in my head started calming down, at least a little, but that’s another topic. Then it came to me that silence isn’t about hearing nothing, but about paying attention to what we do hear.
When all that mental conversation ceased, all I heard for the next half hour was the sound of a very quiet sea, a few gulls squawking and dogs barking, and the hum of an occasional car. Amazing, considering all the human-made noises out there in our world. (As I write this someone has a leaf blower going next door. Ugh.)
As I have stated, this blog is for people who are looking for silence, solitude and simplicity and who sometimes like to be alone. I have been the first person to sign up and ask a thousand questions. Why do you want silence? What are you hoping to discover in the solitude? What might simplicity offer? What happens when you are alone at your cottage by the sea? The answers are impermanent, washing over me like waves on the sand. At this moment I know that simplicity is complex and that silence is full of sounds.
Thoreau wrote,
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
I’d have to say that I’ve come to the sea with the same kind of wish.
When all that mental conversation ceased, all I heard for the next half hour was the sound of a very quiet sea, a few gulls squawking and dogs barking, and the hum of an occasional car. Amazing, considering all the human-made noises out there in our world. (As I write this someone has a leaf blower going next door. Ugh.)
As I have stated, this blog is for people who are looking for silence, solitude and simplicity and who sometimes like to be alone. I have been the first person to sign up and ask a thousand questions. Why do you want silence? What are you hoping to discover in the solitude? What might simplicity offer? What happens when you are alone at your cottage by the sea? The answers are impermanent, washing over me like waves on the sand. At this moment I know that simplicity is complex and that silence is full of sounds.
Thoreau wrote,
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
I’d have to say that I’ve come to the sea with the same kind of wish.