See how nature — trees, flowers, grass — grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence — we need silence to be able to touch souls.
~ Mother Teresa
I spend the majority of my days here at the Wabi-Sabi Ranch in silence. There is no one around to talk to or with except the cats, and although we’ve had many a conversation, they tend to be one-sided in terms of vocalizations except for the occasional mrrrrt, meow, or purr from Izzy or Bella. They nap a lot too, as cats are wont to do, so they’re not always available for conversations.
The house is not silent. If it’s cold outside, there’s the whir and whoosh of the heat pump when the heat kicks on (or, if it’s hot outside, when the air conditioner runs), and the hum of the refrigerator, or if it’s a laundry day, the swish, thump, and hum of the washer and dryer. The sound of water is ever-present. A drip in the tub, the random gurgle of a toilet, the waterfall sound-effect from the reverse osmosis filter as the waste water is carried out, and the music and rhythm of the rain on rainy days all remind me that water is the dominant feature in this area.
The outdoors is not silent, either. The early morning sounds include the songs and chatter of birds, gunshots coming from the hunters in the marshes and the woods, the occasional vehicle out on the road (more than occasional during harvest season when farm equipment is being moved around from farm to farm or when the farmers nearby are out on the tractors), the neighbor’s rooster cockle-doodle-doo’ing, the other neighbor’s beagles who love to bark enthusiastically throughout the day. Trees creak, grasses rustle and swish, airplanes fly overhead once in a while, and last week there was the loud BOOM of a rocket launch.
We’ve had quite a bit of rain this winter, and during those moments when it is quiet outside, you can hear the water moving in the ground, finding its way to the ditches and creeks. The bubbling, burbling sound reminds me of the Bogs. It’s raining today, in a gentle, steady, quiet way, so I’m sure the bubbling and burbling will be present when I go out for my walk tomorrow.
Because I spend so much time here, I’m familiar with the house noises. When M is home and there’s the occasional tinkling-crash or hum or gurgle, he’ll tilt his head in that listening way, then give me his puzzled look, and I’ll say, “the ice maker,” or “the fridge,” or “when you run water in the master bathroom, it eventually gurgles in the guest bathroom.” It’s almost a game, figuring out the thump or bump or whistle or squeak.
The January full moon is almost here (tomorrow night). I should be able to see it, and maybe get in some practice with the new camera. The January full moon, like all full moons, has a variety of traditional names such as the Old Moon, the Wolf Moon, the Ice Moon, and the Winter Moon. I once spent a year naming the full moons on my own, based on my own criteria, as a way to get to know the place where I was living. I think I shall name this full moon the Moon of Silence, in honor of those quiet, silent, in between times. In between the gurgles, the thumps, the splashes, and the booms, there is silence, just as in the gap between the breaths there is silence.
Thank you for visiting today, and watching yesterday’s sunset and moonrise with me. I hope you had a peaceful Tuesday, and caught some of the silent moments in between.
Be good, be kind, be loving. Just Be. 🙂
Today’s gift: A poem, The House of Belonging by David Whyte. It’s beautiful. I especially like the last bits that start with, “This is the bright home/in which I live…” If you have time, please go read it.
Today’s joys: The gentleness of the rain; the warmth of the air; the way the raindrops decorate the junipers and cedars; a day without hammering and sawing; boots to keep my feet dry.