It’s Oh So Thankfully Quiet
A Sound Meditation
Years ago, I made the transition from late night owl, to up and early bird. I was surprised by this change, but in hindsight it was obvious. It’s not so much a choice, as a change in lifestyle. This transition came with age as well as work routines. If a job has you up a 5:30–6:00 am most days of the week, the body adjusts accordingly.
But I’ve come to treasure mornings and the silence and newness of the day. The house is quiet. The neighbors are quiet. The street is quiet. There is this little space everyday where nothing vies for your attention through squawks, blares, and bangs. It’s just you and your thoughts. It’s a time to meditate, think, exercise, and have a cup of coffee before easing into daily obligations.
Morning’s best trait is the quiet.
In America we are loud people who live a loud life. Even our introverts stand out in foreign countries with small talk and loud questions (Ex. “Do you live here?).
It’s as if we can’t imagine not providing a narrative for everything that is happening around us…the weather, the people, the news of the day, the shouldn’t-be-news-of-the-day (Ex. Texas Chihuahua belonging to someone famous greets hairdresser!) And that’s just us. And it’s not enough.
Then we welcome in more noise. We immerse ourselves. The television. The radio. The Internet and its pop-up ads, Tik-Tok, and YouTube videos. The video games. We even hook up massive sound systems to make sure we hear every talking head, every bass-thump and explosion better.
Then we go out into the world. Our stores and restaurants all have a soundtrack playing. I can usually guess the age of the clientele they want by the volume and musical selections. Loudly blaring a mellower SZA song or some shoe-gaze band (Hello Boy Genius)? They want the young ones who will text more than talk to their friends. Playing the hits of the 80s? They want the ilk like me to feel better about grocery shopping. Who knew I would hear the Human League more often now, then in the actual 1980s.
Even our gas station pumps talk to us now. The minute you start pumping, that tinny little speaker cranks up to 11 with offers of sport drinks and pizza inside (Liquid Death now goes with Tombstone! Pick up both for 5-dollars! GET HYPED! AND FULL OF CHEESE!) And the ad is usually followed by some tidbit I can live without. “Rapper Soy Parmesan was seen out with Chicken Marinara, could this be a new power couple?” Or, true story here, where you can learn how to make a festive dessert by scooping pudding (found inside!) out of its plastic shell and into a wine glass. Thanks, but no thanks Maria Menounos, the acclaimed goddess of Gas Station TV.
When I come home, my eardrums have been beat up by all sorts of nonsense, with a thumping soundtrack in the background.
Thus, I’ve come to treasure the silence of the morning. These little moments to keep me grounded and functioning in a society that assaults the senses with screams, dings, squawks, and pay-attention-to-me noises. Sometimes you need space to let thoughts and feelings unspool a bit, and flow through your mind in a lazy river, where you can observe, sort, and find clarity in this muddy experience we call existence.
I’m not alone. When I hear of others who comment on how they’ve become a morning person, usually the second sentence out of their mouths is “I like the quiet.” Thus, the quiet army is growing and it’s comforting to know others would rather give the voice and ears a rest once in awhile.
Yet, there are some that the idea of silence feels just as uncomfortable. And filling their eyes and ears with noise, keeps them humming along, moving from one thing to the SQUIRREL! to the…where was I going again? These are often the cheerful folks who tell me they can’t imagine meditating. And did you notice I bought new pants? And would you like some pudding?
Here’s where I also use my silence, to listen more to my fellow humans. And take care not to judge but honor the differences. After all, I do know that the more quiet I am, has its drawbacks. I hold my own thoughts and vulnerabilities to myself, when perhaps I should be sharing a little more. To connect and learn from my louder friends in life.
Still, it makes me grateful that I have the silence to think these thoughts through. And so I can happily listen to others, their joys and woes, while eating the pudding they just served me in a wine glass.
Thanks for listening all.
