Listening

What do we hear when we're quiet?

So much noise. It surrounds us and pervades our days. Blaring horns, pinging phones, idle chatter, and angry snarls. The clatter of hurried life and unease. Where can we find sanctuary from the swirl?

In the 60’s, Timothy Leary advised seekers to “tune in, turn on, and drop out.” The option may still sound appealing to a society besieged by clamor and despair. But it is false advice. As part of the world, we cannot escape it, no matter the effort or intent. We can temporarily evade it and enclose ourselves in shielded cocoons, but these protections erode over time. Ultimately, the noise will catch up and invade our manufactured peace. Learning to live with it, in fullness, is the key.

In our quiet, we can seek the sounds that soothe, rather than annoy. Nature offers a panoply of delight; the rustling of summer leaves, the lapping of a spring, the grunting of a hidden toad, or a rush of rain. We listen to others whose opinions do not mirror our own. We may never agree, but we can absorb and learn. We respect a world beyond our control. Quiet is not easy, nor always a solution when events and attitudes transcend reason and compel us to act. But listening is essential and distinguishing the crucial from the fluff remains a vital path.

An intricate spider web reminds me of all I do not know or understand. I see its artist manipulate the threads and travel, up, down, and around, to create a masterpiece. She labors, relentless and silent, for her sustenance. Is she a reminder of life in miniature—beautiful yet fraught, fragile yet resilient?

I’m listening.