As I lay in bed this morning, halfway between dreaming and being awake, I could hear the sound of water dripping off the eaves from the melting snow. It was a beautiful symphony of sound. Some drips were more steady, falling in a rapid succession. These were intermingled with a slow, heavy drop that must have been falling into a puddle.
Some of the drips were falling in a steady pattern while others fell much more randomly. It was quite soothing and comforting. Light unformed images danced on my eyelids as I listened.
I was really enjoying this hypnotic natural rhythm when suddenly the neighbor's dog bursts onto the scene with its usual 6:30 ritual consisting of being let out, taking care of business, and then barking at the fence for the next 20 minutes. Not at anything really. In fact, most times that I have gotten up to check, it has been barking to be let in. Its funny, but I have learned how to shut this sound out for the most part. But not this morning.
I longed for the peace and quiet. It was more than wanting a few extra minutes of rest. I wanted to feel closer, be closer, to that natural cycle that is too often drowned out by the modernized world. Those few moments of connecting with the melting snow reminded me that we are still part of the natural world. That those moments of slowing down and paying attention to nature, paying attention to sounds, and paying attention to our own bodies, is important.
As I sit here now, the sound of melting snow is still there. There is also the television set on downstairs. There are also cars driving by on the road. My step-daughter is talking to her friend on the phone. The neighbors dog barks once again. The natural sights, smells, and sounds are always there. We are just so accustomed to all the other "noise" that we don't pay attention.
I suppose there's a metaphor in there somewhere and if I were really clever I could find it and write it down for you. I suppose it has to do something with slowing down and just being, or paying attention, or setting your priorities. But, all I can think about right now is that sometimes its just too much. Too much noise, too much business, too many things to do, too many dogs interrupting the silence.
I need peace and quiet in my life. It doesn't have to be all day. It doesn't have to even be most of the time. I don't have to climb a mountain up to a cave. I don't need to buy a dog training video for my neighbor. I do need to purposely and consciously make room for it. I need to cultivate it. Five minutes here. Ten minutes there. A long weekend spent in the woods. A short walk through the park. I need it regularly and often.
When I do that, I feel better. I can then handle all the other noise in my life, at least for a little while.
