Finding silence has been a challenge for me, and I think for others as well.

I remember, when in the waning days of seventh grade, our teacher asked that we all be completely quiet.  The windows were open as we had no air conditioning and it was unusually hot.  She repeated her request several times and threatened detention, before we settled down.  She further suggested we close eyes for the exercise.  I hesitated…close my eyes?  Then she explained.  Tell me what you hear she asked calmly.  At first we laughed and made juvenile grunts, but after our immaturity ran its course, we began to see, I should say hear.  After a few minutes she asked class to voice their discoveries.  Our ears absorbed the sound of distant sirens, birds, breezes rustling in newly formed greenery, young children’s laughter emanating from nearby backyards, cars passing on road fronting school, dog’s bark, train’s horn, and so on.  Some of these I only detected after classmates’ declarations.  It was a hidden world that wasn’t.  It was all around us and had always been, but we rarely chose to notice.  Though years have passed, I’ve never forgotten this drill.

Now days, I pray or you might say I meditate.  On occasion I stay reasonably focused, but many times I drift to the day’s concerns and have to bring myself back to my “ohm”. This is particularly evident when life has handed me unusual difficulties.  Ironically, under these circumstances, when I most need the peace that comes from palliative words, it is the most elusive.

A few days ago I was on lunchtime walk.  I try to keep this fifteen minute habit for reasons of health, flexibility, and break from spreadsheet and email.  During my walk my mind continued to draw back to a relationship recently ended by my girl.  My logical mind knew it was best this bond had been broken, but my heart lagged the rational.  As I struggled to right the ship, I remembered the gift my middle school educator had bestowed.  I took breath, began to listen, and again that magic hidden world emerged.  The air resonated with bird’s call, wind in tree’s branches, Circadia’s buzz, tractor’s engine, factory’s roof-top units, dock worker’s whistle, stone crushing under foot…it was all there.  Each time I was tempted to heed siren’s call, I chose to listen.

I remember a movie from my youth titled Kung Fu.  The story line centered on a boy admitted to a monastery of Shaolin priests where he was taught martial arts and meditative skills.  During his long journey to become a master there was a scene where instructor hears the sound emitted by tiny grasshopper at boy’s feet, illustrating what is possible if in tune with the vibrations of nature.

I cannot yet hear the grasshopper, and I don’t know why being quiet and listening sooths my soul.  I guess the why of it matters not; I’m just pleased it does.