The beauty of silence was emphasised this morning as I sat and looked at a gentle breeze moving through the soft leaves of the chilli plants I have growing on my balcony table. You can only wonder at the marvel of nature and the way the motion of the plant foliage reminded me of dancers swaying motion, or summer crops in the wind sprayed fields, and that oh so slight 'shh' sound of them rubbing bodies in the breeze.
Then, after the coffee had started to kick in, the annoyance of a sound I truly despise; the mosquito. I now sit with a lump on my left knee as a result of not being able to dispatch the little mite before it had taken it's pound of flesh. Or at least, it's sip of my precious blood. It now lies dead at the foot of the window, where it had paused to enjoy it's bounty. Crushed in some sacrifice no Buddhist would condone, but adequate payback for the pain it now causes me. They do say that life is motivated by the 'dog eat dog' mentality, and for that one insect, well, it met the wrong dog today.
Summer, winter; the climate of change. Only altered by the climate of change in that other cycle of life; the daily grind. Mornings are so pleasant, and I saw a quote last night before I fell into slumber that stated (and I'm paraphrasing) mornings should be rejoiced at, as their silence can enable the many tasks of the day to be achieved with some tranquility. It is so here in Greece, in the summer. As beyond a certain hour the heat of the earth and sun combined makes mere stirring of a muscle unbearably tiring. As I type there is a vague hint of a chill that refreshes the body and the muscles and allows this note to be typed. Normally the CPU on this laptop heats to a 'centre-of-the-sun' type affair and working here is unbearable.
One passage of thought towards silence is that in these warm (understatement; read hot) months, the windows are left open in the night. Mainly as I suffer great problems with the air-conditioning being on, and so would rather not endure the problems if I can. But, as in many cases, one solution draws another problem. I am of the ilk of light sleepers. A pin drops and my head rises to see the form of such a sound. Most of the time it would be a distant cat, dog or garbage collection unit in the wee hours of early morning. But as the silence has been disrupted, so has my sleep. Many a reason for these early morning rants.
I'm curious to understand why certain sounds can drive intolerance in one's mind whereas the screeches of the swallows that now dance on air outside seem a pleasant picture to the early morning thoughts of summer. Has the brain programmed itself to distinguish between pleasant and disruptive sounds, or has it been that in the greater design and evolution of objects in his world, the sound they make has been equally added to define their acceptance in life. Could one imagine a the refuge collection van emptying the rubbish into the back, not with the mechanised clatter, but some soft and gentle violin sound?
The world is a crazy place, and we more so for wanting to live in the cities of drowning chaos. My coffee has been drunk and the slight sounds of the day are now become greater. I will move to create silence in my perfect world.
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