Hi Everyone - I’m only doing my Sunday posts twice a month. But a really lovely conversation happened in the comment section of The Bookmobile - In Praise of Librarians & The American Public Library System). I created a WordCloud so you can see a graphic representation of many of the thoughts, words and ideas that threaded through our conversation.
I was recently remembering the deep quiet that covid brought to the world. With far fewer planes in the air and most cars parked in front of houses sequestered all except for us 'lucky' essential workers. Bicycling to work was so much quieter and the sound of birds and even of my bike tires in the pavement, came through so much clearer. A questionable trade for the fear and crushing loneliness that the pandemic brought to many of us.
I found myself musing on the different kinds of quiet that calm my mind/heart and bring me joy. I live near the Seattle area- but grew up in the midwest/Minnesota. The sound that came forth for me is the deafening hush of a silent snowfall. It’s rare out here- but when I see those flakes I can hardly keep myself from rushing outside- so I don’t miss them. One night a few years ago we had such a snowfall- completely quiet- no wind. We went out for a walk among the deserted streets and I remembered that quiet- when soft flakes are falling all around- and the earth is covered in white. Spoken words are muted and the sky seems to offer a gentle embrace. What a delightful meditation experience. Smiling.
Sounds I love....crickets, bird song, water flowing over rocks, my mom when she sang quietly as she held me as a child. These sounds and others help me feel calm, joy filled, and loved.
We live in a small town across from the wide end of a triangle park. The trees are 100+ years old and wearing all their green glory. Blessed silence broken occasionally by slow traffic and doves, finches, robins and jays.
my quiet time is on Sunday mornings. I live in the Bronx, but I do a ten mile run to City Island. It is a fishing community in the Bronx. I start my run at 5AM and I get time to think because it is so quiet. When I make the turn over the bridge, and if I am lucky like today, I see a deer grazing and sometimes some wild turkeys. It always puts a smile on my face
Last week I turned 60. Thanks to your song, I promise myself to "listen for what never made a sound; to take more time, and cover less ground." Slowing down, and listening to quiet prompts, I hope to discover more; not in the horizontal dimension of area, but rather in the vertical dimension of thougths.
Here is wishing you renewal and new life as you spend time at Gethsemane. Finally the weather has turned and we are able to have the house open today. So I'm hearing all sorts of sounds that make me smile! Thank you for the suggested practice. A good meditation for a lovely day.
of us who revere Merton-poet-jazzman-priest-wisdom teacher. I am headed to Patmos this morning in Greece to a salon with Krista Tippet and Pádraig O’Tuama. I know I am “traveling on behalf of community.” Thank you for invoking Gethsemane in case I never get there.
I am a dawn riser. Today, when I opened the back door it was to catch my two favorite “first sounds”. I listen for the bird whose name I do not know that sings only before the sun is up and then only one note. At the same time the mockingbird tunes up and begins inventing whole arias of original music. What fascinates me here is the single note AND the many notes that bring on my day…..On this particular Sunday the day will start in the deep silence of my tiny Quaker Meeting and then the voices of family and friends celebrating the life of a joyful young woman there only in spirit. Silence and sound.
I have. Been hunting for a quiet mantra I could use when I need to quiet my mind from the daily noises of insecurity, I need to…………, and self inflicted demands. I think this may be it. Thank you Carrie.
I remember reading an article in French and English in which the translator missed the opportunity to translate a phrase as “a symphony of silence.” I love the eloquence of that. And I love the often hilarious mimickry of mocking birds. I once heard one imitating the rotating, annoying racket of a car alarm. A reminder of how we misuse sound.
Makes me look at the sky. Ineffable gratitude
Sound: “Hello”
🙏
Beautiful that big wide sky and your voice!
I was recently remembering the deep quiet that covid brought to the world. With far fewer planes in the air and most cars parked in front of houses sequestered all except for us 'lucky' essential workers. Bicycling to work was so much quieter and the sound of birds and even of my bike tires in the pavement, came through so much clearer. A questionable trade for the fear and crushing loneliness that the pandemic brought to many of us.
https://jeffastle.substack.com/publish/home
Really enjoyed first silent meeting for worship with IL Quakers, hearing bugs, birds, children joyfully playing, and a few beautiful testimonies.
I found myself musing on the different kinds of quiet that calm my mind/heart and bring me joy. I live near the Seattle area- but grew up in the midwest/Minnesota. The sound that came forth for me is the deafening hush of a silent snowfall. It’s rare out here- but when I see those flakes I can hardly keep myself from rushing outside- so I don’t miss them. One night a few years ago we had such a snowfall- completely quiet- no wind. We went out for a walk among the deserted streets and I remembered that quiet- when soft flakes are falling all around- and the earth is covered in white. Spoken words are muted and the sky seems to offer a gentle embrace. What a delightful meditation experience. Smiling.
Sounds I love....crickets, bird song, water flowing over rocks, my mom when she sang quietly as she held me as a child. These sounds and others help me feel calm, joy filled, and loved.
We live in a small town across from the wide end of a triangle park. The trees are 100+ years old and wearing all their green glory. Blessed silence broken occasionally by slow traffic and doves, finches, robins and jays.
my quiet time is on Sunday mornings. I live in the Bronx, but I do a ten mile run to City Island. It is a fishing community in the Bronx. I start my run at 5AM and I get time to think because it is so quiet. When I make the turn over the bridge, and if I am lucky like today, I see a deer grazing and sometimes some wild turkeys. It always puts a smile on my face
Last week I turned 60. Thanks to your song, I promise myself to "listen for what never made a sound; to take more time, and cover less ground." Slowing down, and listening to quiet prompts, I hope to discover more; not in the horizontal dimension of area, but rather in the vertical dimension of thougths.
Here is wishing you renewal and new life as you spend time at Gethsemane. Finally the weather has turned and we are able to have the house open today. So I'm hearing all sorts of sounds that make me smile! Thank you for the suggested practice. A good meditation for a lovely day.
Thank you for being there on behalf of all
of us who revere Merton-poet-jazzman-priest-wisdom teacher. I am headed to Patmos this morning in Greece to a salon with Krista Tippet and Pádraig O’Tuama. I know I am “traveling on behalf of community.” Thank you for invoking Gethsemane in case I never get there.
I live in Texas where the heat is unbearable. I am grateful when I feel the gentle wind kiss my cheeks, and the sounds of the birds sing good morning.
I am a dawn riser. Today, when I opened the back door it was to catch my two favorite “first sounds”. I listen for the bird whose name I do not know that sings only before the sun is up and then only one note. At the same time the mockingbird tunes up and begins inventing whole arias of original music. What fascinates me here is the single note AND the many notes that bring on my day…..On this particular Sunday the day will start in the deep silence of my tiny Quaker Meeting and then the voices of family and friends celebrating the life of a joyful young woman there only in spirit. Silence and sound.
I have. Been hunting for a quiet mantra I could use when I need to quiet my mind from the daily noises of insecurity, I need to…………, and self inflicted demands. I think this may be it. Thank you Carrie.
I remember reading an article in French and English in which the translator missed the opportunity to translate a phrase as “a symphony of silence.” I love the eloquence of that. And I love the often hilarious mimickry of mocking birds. I once heard one imitating the rotating, annoying racket of a car alarm. A reminder of how we misuse sound.
A quiet glory on this Sunday morning by our lake. Breathing same easy rhythm as my Labrador.