Around
here, the wind sounds like the surf and the surf sounds like a heartbeat.
Sometimes the receding ocean pulls on the pebbles and the beach sounds like a
bag of marbles, which comes full circle in how the wind sounds when it blows
through the trees.
I thought
it was the pebbles that woke me this morning. When I stepped onto the front
porch, however, I discovered it was actually the wind rustling the leaves.
Sometimes the little chirpy birds wake me up, sometimes the morning sun angling
through my bedroom window will do it. Or the crows next door will engage in a
cawing match, or the gulls will go off at six a.m. And I thought I heard a
raccoon close by because I heard an ungodly vocal emanating from somewhere. I
sat on the porch and listened to the constant
chirping-rustling-crying-scrabbling and felt like all was silent. Then a car
drove by.
Humans are
the noisiest, most intrusive, disruptive critters on the planet. Our noise is noise.
No rhythm, no lullaby, no softness – every sound I heard this morning was muted
and I can’t figure out why. Nature is vibrantly alive, but there’s a music in
its breathing that our man-made racket cannot follow.
It’s like
the difference between mind and spirit. My mind is constantly chattering. It
loops TV show themes and calls me an idiot. It foils my imagination with work
stuff. It minds the time and interrupts my dreaming. It makes so much darned noise
that sometimes I feel like throwing myself from the highest turret to get away
from it. My spirit, on the other hand, seems barely audible. It’s always there,
but I can’t always hear it. Spirit comes from the same source as the birds and
the wind and the sea. It’s part of the natural cycle that we, as humans, have
drowned out with the cacophony of invention. Spirit doesn’t have a volume
control. It’s always set to “quiet.” True creativity is born from spirit.
Listen and let it roll unhindered, and you’ll be rewarded with a story, song or
poem. If you try to mind-manipulate it, all you’ll get is noise.
Today I’m
hoping to get a lot closer to finishing the story I started back in May (or was
it April?) It took a strange turn and I ran out of vacation time in which to
complete it. The process has reverted to cold starts each Sunday, though I’ve
been writing it in my head all week. Truly, I have no idea how it will go
today, but I’m hopeful. All I have to do is cut out the noise.
Wish me
luck.
