“We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.”
― Leonora Carrington
Good morning from a very quiet Padstow.
Everyone in the flat is asleep — but then it is 5.34 am.
In a moment (without Alfie today — someone else can walk him for a change), I'm going to head off down the Camel Trail. I'm not sure the weather but it doesn't matter: I just need to be alone.
Perhaps it's me — no, it is me — but I crave (often) the full, transcendent bliss of silence. I put it that way but what I really mean to say is that I need to be alone with whatever nature offers and as far away from the maddening (Padstow) crowd as possible.
You might think this a rather sombre, melancholic message and I suppose it lends itself in that direction, but the truth is, we all need what silence offers.
Of course, I don't know that but a holiday should be a way of reconnecting with who we are and not a way to disappear still further into the busyness that life leads us to explore and develop.
Without getting too woo-woo on you, it's a way to lose ourselves and find ourselves all at the same time.
But of course, not everyone, despite the aforementioned, slightly grandiose statement is expressed to seek out and find solace in silence. A lot of us enjoy the disturbance. And that's fine but the more time I have to suffer noise and the discombobulating effect of talking louder and louder to be heard, the more likely it is I'll go into myself, find my breath and sit and say nothing. (People have often accused me of sulking. It's not that but a way to stay sane — seriously.)
Even outwith and away from the holiday scene though, I think there's a lot to be offered spiritually or otherwise in a deliberate practice of silence. I tend these days to lie flat on the floor with a pillow behind my head and allow the wind of my soul to descend over me. Sorry, that's a little poetic. What I mean to say is that I'm disposed to lie there and allow all of life to infuse and track every breath, sensation and feeling but especially to connect with the silence that my little office has to offer. Do I feel better as a result? Not always but if nothing else, it reconnects me with the happening of the moment which is, of course, the only moment we'll ever have.
Right, that's it for now. Sorry it's so short but I am on holiday.
Blessings and much love, Ju.
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