THE SOLITUDE OF SILENCE

Price Lake, Blue Ridge Parkway, NC

“Listen to silence.  It has so much to say.” –Rumi

I was listening to the PBS program On Being with Krista Tippett this morning and she was having a discussion with a man who has apparently dedicated his life to recording the quiet sounds of nature away from the noise of modern life.  I’ve also observed that there can be moments of “silence” on a moonlit winter’s night when the winds are so silent that one can actually experience the gentle sound of a snowfall.  I’ve stood at the water’s edge of a mirrored lake just off the Blue Ridge Parkway at sunrise and experienced the silence of being still and knowing God.  The glorious silence was only interrupted by a bird’s song echoing across the water as it was stirred awake by the sun’s warmth.  I’ve recorded short video clips from my own backyard deck of bird songs at daybreak that are very conducive to calming the chatter of the ego mind.

The man noted that he has recorded the songs of many birds out in nature and concluded that the sweet spot of human hearing coincides with the range of their singing.  He believes that our hearing evolved over the millennia to be acutely aware of bird songs because foraging humans found those areas to be compatible with survival.  He also noted that the winds, especially those singing in the pines, have a higher range with shorter needles and a lower range if they are longer.  It makes intuitive sense that our environment and subtleties such as this can have a positive subliminal influence on our wellbeing.

Mindfulness teachers suggest that even if we cannot actually be out in nature away from the busyness of life, we can discern and go to a favorite “quiet place” in our mind.  I have at least two specific places in Colorado.  The first is at the base of a mountain lake in Maroon Bells National Park outside Aspen.  The other is sitting on a boulder among the pine trees as the Bernoulli-effect breezes slice through the pine needles in the canyons of Mesa Verde National Park.

Ralph Waldo Emerson encourages us to “be silent, that we may hear the whispers of the gods.”  Mozart understood that “the music is not in the notes, but the silence between.”  And the naturalist Henry David Thoreau observed that “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.  We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers.”  

While extroverts often dislike being alone and introverts tend to prefer it, people do need a support network and social connections, while taking time for yourself outside in nature can be very healthful.  That’s something to ponder in this unprecedented period of pandemic masking, lockdowns, quarantines, Zooming and Facetime! 

 

THE SANCTUARY OF A MOUNTAIN STREAM

Vail, Colorado

Gore Creek

STREAM SONG

Shakespeare was a man of incredible insight and observation of human behavior and the world around him.  So, it was no surprise to stumble across his observation that “The earth has music for those who listen.”  Of course, there’s a great distinction between music and noise for the most part.  I’ve observed that there doesn’t appear to be any distinction for some bands, but that’s for another post.

All of us need quiet time to sort out life and clear the cobwebs of the mind so that we can carry on with the business of living.  One ideal place to be still and meditate on life is in the sanctuary of a consecrated place where sacred worship is held, but in my view that can either be inside a building or out in nature.  A wildlife sanctuary provides protection from predators.  And I’ve always found sanctuary beside a cold, gurgling mountain stream rushing over polished glacier stones and calling out to me as they plunge headlong toward their origin in the vast oceans.

These tranquil waters need no interpretation, as God sings universal songs in nature that stirs our soul.  The moving waters of a summer mountain stream have slowed now that the initial wild rush of the spring snow melt has passed.  The soothing sound of Aspen leaves rustling in the cool breezes coupled with the stream song tranquilizes the senses and leaves one at peace within the consciousness of the universe we inhabit.

We consciously and subconsciously find comfort and solace in all of these sounds as they complete the unique playlist for the soundtrack of a life.  A sage native American Indian proverb still provides relevant wisdom from the people that spent their entire lives out in nature:

“Listen to the wind, it talks.

Listen to the silence, it speaks.

Listen to your heart, it knows.”

IRONY

After the Storm, Jamestown, NC

I was out walking on the golf course last week when a buddy commented on the very hot and humid August weather. Without giving it much thought, I responded that was quite true, but if we weren’t enduring the heat and sweat that day, we wouldn’t have much appreciation for the beautiful fall golfing weather that we'd be enjoying in just a few short weeks.

Isn’t it ironic that we generally have to experience the extreme negatives in life to fully appreciate the wonderful blessings we receive all the time? There are many times when I’m driving down the interstate highways with the windows partially down and the wind is coursing through the interior cabin. That prompts me to crank up the volume on the radio to sing along with some of my favorite road trip songs. Then just as I become aware of the noise pollution surrounding me, I close the windows and turn off the radio. Only then do I really have a genuine appreciation for the beautiful silence that was there all the time.

We’ve been given life so that we may experience it to the fullest. Of course, there are stretches of time where the fullness is overflowing and overwhelming. If we can just make it to what I like to call “the eye of the hurricane” after a grueling project or rough patch in the road and take some vacation time off, that period of rest and relaxation can really get our batteries recharged again. And we appreciate the peaceful moments even more.

A dark and dismal day in late autumn with a nuisance misty rain coming down for hours can certainly create a sad and depressing mood. There’s a realization that the warm days of summer and fall are quickly fading and the cold and fallow season of winter is near. Then the clouds begin to clear, a rainbow appears in the east and sunbeams stream through the windows. As you step outside, the air is crisp and clean. The light is filtering through the colorful autumn leaves, creating an atmosphere of standing in the middle of a grand European cathedral with the soft light of multi-colored stained glass warming your face. The switch to happiness clicks on in an instant.

We enjoy one another’s presence for years. We become so complacent with someone’s company that it is easily taken for granted. Then one day that presence is absent forever. That gives us plenty of time to appreciate the memories of being with them. Isn’t it ironic that we have to experience the negative and positive opposites in life to fully appreciate our blessings? And sometimes that works in reverse.

SILENT REFLECTION

Mystery Woman, David Joles, Star Tribune, Minneapolis, MN

David Joles had just left his workplace at the Minneapolis Star Tribune during a late winter snowstorm. The photographer detoured by the Fort Snelling National Cemetery to photograph the rows of white tombstones against a stark white background of fallen snowflakes. I’ve taken similar photographs at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, DC and Leavenworth, Kansas. The ordered rows of manicured grounds are sobering and awesome in their sheer numbers of visually geometric tributes to those who have served our great country and offered up the ultimate sacrifice.

As he scanned the blurred white surroundings with the lifeless “pen and ink” black outlines of trees in the background, a solitary black silhouette appeared through the lens. Joles instinctively realized that this was one of those serendipitous moments in life and pressed the shutter button on his camera. He captured a powerfully evocative scene with a mysterious dark figure wearing either a hooded winter coat or a black cloak to ward off the cold snow. She paused by a tombstone only briefly and then was gone. He didn’t want to interrupt even though his journalistic instincts always sought the details of any keeper image.

People have since speculated on the mystery woman and have considered that someone prompted to venture out into a snowstorm must have had a special occasion date to acknowledge such as a birth date, death date, wedding date, last date, etc. Certainly a more pleasant day would have made more sense if one was stopping by to pay their respects. I’ve stopped by gravesites when I was traveling with just a few minutes to visit a cemetery before I had another plane to catch. The weather wouldn’t have been a deterrent in that circumstance.

Joles now isn’t sure that it would be a good thing to know who the woman in black is or why she was there on such an unpleasant stormy day. He notes that “in her anonymity, she represents everybody.” We all can place ourselves or a loved one in that bleak surreal scene. We can all better understand the silent reflection that overcomes us at the gravesite of a loved one or a stranger that sacrificed his life for our freedom. We can all observe our own mortality reflected in the lone figure standing in stark contrast amongst all those restful spirits in a heavenly blanket of white snow that smothers all sound in the stillness of our soul.

CHANGING THE GUARD

Evening Light, Jamestown, NC

The long, golden rays of the setting sun cast a sharp contrast onto the slender trunks of a crepe myrtle tree and transparently filter through delicate strands of decorative grass. A distant chorus of crows caw a litany of curses after a hawk that had sought solace from the days hunt in the tree top canopy. A departing airline’s jet engine breaks the silence and its alien sound rises and then falls as it passes overhead, giving way to a distant drone and then silence again. Even the three crows give up their taunting and wing overhead toward their night’s secluded roost in the trees. Not a leaf is stirring amidst the soothing calls of distant insects settling into the resurgent green grasses. And in the midst of the peaceful calm of the glowing fall sunbeams, you can sense the seasons changing the guard.

The hot days of summer quietly slip away and acquiesce to the cool nights of fall. The temperature drop prompts green liquid chlorophyll to ease from the tree leaves finally revealing their true colors. Rose branches make one last desperate reach to the heavens and unfurl their colorful blooms in silent and reverent wonder. Song birds lower their singing in response to their circadian systems slowing to the rhythm of the cool ambient air surrounding them. All creation pauses and breathes a sigh as the growing season surrenders to a melancholy time of winnowing down into fallow fields and barren landscapes.

Another circle of life has marked the earth’s passage around the sun. The sky turns a clear blue grey while a trough of colder air passes, triggering an ethereal fog that settles into the low lying valleys and lakes. Spirits rise and gracefully dance on the water’s surface to herald the autumnal equinox. A brightly shining harvest moon provides just enough reflective light to enable rural farmers to gather the last remnants of the growing season’s bounty. And God whispers through the stillness, “Well done, rest and be at peace” as dark shadows silently descend on the motionless land and its muted inhabitants.