The Sound of Silence

The title of this post is not a reference to the Simon and Garfunkel song, although it is a good song, this post is about the beauty of silence.  What do you think of when you think silence?  I personally think of nature and early mornings but that is probably because I am a morning person.  

Today after my morning walk, I came home and rather than turn on my music (albeit classical) I decided to just make tea and sit outside in silence.  It's the beginning of autumn and the weather is markedly colder than it has been.  (Colder is a relative term, it was colder for my Monterey.)  I can also tell that the season is changing because coming home from my walk, when I reached the normal landmark that I associate with daylight, it was still dark.  It was so beautiful!  I sat outside with my tea and took in the air crisp - I listened to the sea lions barking off in the distance and I heard birds chirping in the garden next door.  As beautiful as classical music is, I ought not drown out these beautiful, natural sounds that inspire musicians and composers.  I would like to just be in them, be part of them.  I don't know that we take much time to appreciate the sound of silence in our hyper-connected buzzing and beeping world with text and e-mail notifications, constant blaring music, etc. but I did today and I appreciated it, it calmed me down and reminded me that there is more to life than my iPhone.  I think I want to try to do it more.  I suggest you do, too. 

Creativity

On account of being on a cleanse and still working full time, I have not been exercising.  I devote my energy to work and thus have not been taking my morning walks, either.  My body wants the time to rest, and that's OK, after all, that is the point of the cleanse.  However, on my solitary walks is when I think about things to write, my thoughts develop with the monotonous movement of my legs and the beauty of my surroundings.  A bird will chirp and inspire a thought or a wave will crash and it will spark an emotional fire.  

A dear friend told me that we are losing creativity in today's society; we are always connected, attached, plugged-in such that we don't have down time which is where creativity flourishes.  In fact, people most commonly say "I had a great idea when I was in the shower!" because that is the only place that the cell phone has not (yet) been able to infiltrate.  At the gym, people have their headphones jammed into their ears to block out all life and get themselves through their miserable workout and what's worse is when this is outdoors.  Wouldn't one want to hear nature, be aware of her/his surroundings, greet their fellow runner? At home, people have the TV blaring as "background noise."  Are we afraid to be alone with our own thoughts?  What happened to sitting and contemplating? Silence?  Isn't is said that Isaac Newton's theory of gravitation was inspired by the fall of an apple?  I don't know that Newton would have seen that apple fall if he was texting and walking or distracted by talking on his cell phone.  (I am guilty of these things,  myself.)

According to the wise Albert Einstein, "The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind."  

Maybe we ought to incorporate some more quiet time in our lives?  Some time to just watch the wind blow.  Maybe it will inspire in us some creativity or maybe just allow us to take in the magnificence of the world.    

A little slower

I took my morning walk a little slower today.  I am doing a detoxification cleanse with a friend of mine so my body is not in-taking the same amount of energy as it normally does, so I'm taking it easy on the physical exertion.  It is amazing to make a change to your lifestyle and watch the effects on the body.  

There must have been rain at some point in the night because the sandy path on which I walk was wet and smooth - it no longer bore witness to creatures' foot steps.  I liked that my foot steps were the first to break the wet, sandy shell that covered the path.  It was chilly and windy, but nothing like the violent winds of yesterday that awoke me in the night - the sound of branches breaking and leaves rustling.  The ocean was a deeper blue today and there was a soft pink haze above the horizon.  The waves crashed with meaning, rotating mechanically, one after the other, after the other...I thought isn't it mechanics that mimics nature, not the other way around?  

Morning flowers

Let me first start off by saying I'm a creature of habit. I have this tendency of finding something I like and obsessing over it.  I'm that person who plays her favorite song (of the week) on repeat until all my roommates, friends, neighbors, classmates, etc. are well aware that (insert catchy pop song of the week) is my (current) favorite song and can no longer listen to it without cringing and thinking of me.  Maybe it's my own form of "friend-security." (:

My current obsession is the meaning of flowers.  I have always admired flowers but this book I'm reading (The Language of Flowers) has taken this admiration to a new level.  On my morning walk there was a garden filled with lavender and rosemary.  Both soft purple flowers.  I thought to myself, what could lavender mean? Whatever it means, I love it.  I love it for its fragrance and beauty.  I also love it because a past amante had fields upon fields of it and would bring me sachets of lavender buds.  If you're curious, lavender means both devotion and distrust.  Those seem like contradictory meanings but I guess both can be involuntary, one can be devoted to something and distrustful simultaneously?  Devotion is a state and distrust a feeling?  I'm still pondering this one.

I kept on my way and stumbled upon a purple iris.  They're everywhere in the forest!  I looked that one up to, it means good news.  The superstitious in me thought, maybe I have some good news in my future?! The logical thought, irises bloom in Spring and it's spring.  I'll stick to superstition. 

It was much more clear today and as I turned the bend, exiting the path and onto the road parallel to the ocean, I looked back and saw the sunrise over the silhouette of cypress trees.  The ocean was still and speckled with brown seaweed, a little head popped up and I smiled at the otter.  I passed the house with the bench in the fence, the one I mentioned yesterday with all that lavender, except today I noticed another thing, behind the bench were several yellow narcissus.  Narcissus means unrequited love and selfishness.  Well that's fitting, one sits on a bench surrounded by remembrance of her/his selfishness.  That's a sad thought.  But it's also reality - people can be selfish and selfishness stems from fear.  Protecting the self is easier, safer than being vulnerable to another.

Yellow and purple flowers.  I have a theory that plants producing these colored flowers have some sort of symbiotic relationship with one another because I have observed that they grow in close proximity regularly and not only in California, I observed this in Spain, too.  Maybe the types of plants that grow in coastal environments have this characteristic.  I have not investigated the biology behind it but I stand by my theory, science could only prove this theory correct (or disprove it altogether).  But take for example the lavender and narcissus, or even a purple iris with yellow stripes on its petals, ice plant with yellow and purple flowers, etc.  

I passed a yellow mimosa (in Spanish) (and not the champagne mimosa although that conjures a beautiful image, too).  I came home and found out the name in English, silver wattle or better known by its scientific name, the acacia tree.  I looked this up and it means secret love.  How beautiful.  You could send your secret admirer a sprig of yellow mimosa. 

Mimosa or Acacia (thanks wikipedia!)

Have a beautiful day!

Let your mind dance with your body

It had just stopped raining when I stepped out for my walk, but you couldn't tell the difference, the fog was so thick it was like walking through a cold steam room.  Glorious.  On my walk, I was reflecting on the book I am reading, The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.  The novel tells the story of a girl, Victoria, who has lived in foster homes for her entire childhood.  It goes back and forth, alternating chapters of her present, adult life (age 18) and her childhood between group homes and foster homes, etc.  In the part about her childhood, we learn that at one point she lived with a woman who was versed on the language of flowers, the old Victorian way for lovers to communicate by sending each other flowers, each one having a meaning.  It is one of the only things young Victoria is interested in. (For example, the yellow carnation means rejection, disdain or "You have disappointed me," while the daisy symbolizes innocence, loyal love, purity or faith.  You can see how lovers would communicate sending these flowers - fresh, pressed or drawings of them, back and forth to one another.) Thus far, Victoria is incapable of having relationships, including friendships.  She has been so betrayed, damaged, hurt that she is unwilling to let anyone in.  I got to thinking about relationships.  I cringed at the internal wounds of ruined friendships or relationships.  We all have those people in our lives with whom we simply cannot communicate effectively.  Our words are misunderstood, we misunderstand theirs, we were young, unaware of our actions, etc.

My melancholy thoughts were dismissed by the song of the birds, beckoning the sun to rise - the sun I will not see behind the thick, drippy marine layer.  I sighed and took in my surroundings.  A bunny scampered across the path and I sped up to catch a glimpse of her/him.  The air smelled acidic, which is characteristic of the shrubbery growing down by the ocean, and although I do not particularly like the smell, I love what the smell is associated with - the beauty of the ocean and countless memories of running along the boardwalk.    Each footstep on the sandy path uncovered an oval of dry sand.  I noticed that I was not alone as there were hoof prints as well; the deer graze just off the path but know no such path. The ocean was calm, deep grey, which was the perfect contrast to the not-so-white sky.  I kept on my way, smiling at a bench that had been built into the fence of a person's home.  It was flanked on either side with rosemary - the deep green speckled with its characteristic light purple flowers, rosemary - remembrance.  How appropriate.