Saturday, November 14, 2015

Listening: Letting Each Morning Tell Me What It Wants to Say



A cup of tea and a quiet chair.  That's all it really takes.  No music, no radio, no TV, no computer.  Just a few first-thing-in-the-morning moments to sit and transition into the day.  Or, if one is fortunate enough to live near the water, a good early morning walk on the beach is splendid.  Or along a mountain trail.  I'm not talking about now and again, I'm talking regularly! 

I often think that it's totally necessary to spend some quiet time with myself ... to sit down and be silent. Or, to put it another way, to simply BE. If I'm to receive easy thoughts--or answers to any questions, for that matter--I need to be in a quiet environment.  Though, yes, they can arrive in the middle of washing the dishes.  Or taking a bath.  Or driving down our main street.

So, I live a quiet life partly to be receptive to whatever might come and partly because I simply prefer a life of peace.  No sounds except maybe a light configuring of traffic out on the main road.  The humming of the refrigerator.  Maybe a neighbor down the hill mowing his lawn.  I don't even put on Bach and Vivaldi as often as I used to.  Though I do enjoy tuning in to Krishna Das on Pandora sometimes when I'm making supper.



But if our minds are so obliterated with noise, with external music, with motors and beeps... how can we truly listen to the silence?  I particularly love going out on a sunny afternoon--usually, late afternoon--and just being in my garden.  With its woods, its grass, its rock walls and chipmunks, its tall white pines and herb garden.  Just to be there and take it in.  Then later ideas come to me.  Things I might write about or paint. (Or put into this blog.)   Places I want to go.  But it's the silence that captures me.  No one is around, no traffic (I'm on a dead-end street), no disturbances.



Of course, my uphill neighbor's dog does its share of barking which can drive me to distraction--sorry, but I have zero tolerance for a dog with an annoying bark--but it's what Zen might call "an awareness."  Zen would call the dog my teacher ... its barking something to set aside.  And the setting aside is something that I need to practice along with "don't know mind" as one teacher described it.  Staying neutral.  Not getting involved with others' dramas.  Taking deep breaths.

Loud music in restaurants is also problematic.  And "music" where I go fill up my gas tank.  Or at the dentist's, the butcher's, baker's, or candlestick maker's.  Just let us be, I want to say.  Just let us be.  We need only the sound of the wind in the grasses, the clouds covering the moon, the waves breaking on the beach, the words of a cheery hello.  And children, especially, need this.  Get rid of the television!  Let them be, let them understand the glories of quietude!




No comments:

Post a Comment