a botanical whodunit: r.i.p., yellow magnolia
8 hours ago
Even the sun is silent. No longer does it come up like thunder. Its light seeps into the day, pale as pearls.Pat's words about keeping the noisy media at bay resonated with me. A few years ago, the CBC (for you Americans: the Canadian Broadcasting Corp is public radio, without commercials) had a strike, and so we stopped listening for a few weeks. What we discovered was that we felt better not listening to the news. We found that we had much less aggravation in our lives that way. You know how you feel when you hear George Bush talking. Well, who needs that?
Such deep silence is hard to ignore. I avoid turning to the sounds of the modern world, radios, TVs, records. The news, such as it is, commentary, chatter, even music, can all wait for awhile. I need to fill my ears with silence, and let it penetrate blood and bone. Noise is exhausting and I need to rest. Just for a while.
I don't wish for endless silence. I wish for balance and rhythm. All music includes rests. A silent beat. Without silence you can't hear the melody or harmony. You can't appreciate the beauty of the song.
I love the song of life, the bass line of my own true love, the trilling of the children, the adagio of friends, the timpani of joy, even the beat beat beat of routine, all building to the crescendo of December.
But then rest.