Silence Is Sometimes Best
This recent trip into the mountains wasn’t necessarily a vacation for me, as it was answering my own personal distress signals. I had many questions. Change in my life is imminent, yet to what or where or when I don’t know.
When I arrived, I realized I was the only guest at the string of cabins beside the river. At first this was unnerving considering an infamous alien abduction took place across the street, but I consoled myself with the thought it would be unlikely aliens would take me and that if they did, my stay at least would be extended. But one thing was guaranteed and that it would be a quiet stay, besides the river sounds.
My days were simple. I slept until first light. I did allot of what I used to call “hiking” yet now it’s become more of a saunter into the woods. Some days I climbed mountains, others I was satisfied with walking through a birch grove to a pond and sit to watch the swans and listen to the nuthatches or the silence.
Every day I would stop at a farm and buy a cord of wood. At night I would have a fire and sit beside it and watch the flames. Late in the evening I would walk down to the river and admire the stars and the moon, which turned from a crescent to a half as the days passed. I would shake my owl rattle and talk to owl spirit, or sometimes I would just sit there and be.
I wrote every day. I tore apart the novel I am working on, deleted allot, rewrote some, and then decided this is just going to take a long time. The book will be the death of me, yet I do hope I at least finish writing the story before that happens.
I read a book called American Gods by Neil Gaiman and enjoyed it much. In my opinion it is the best take on the Norse gods ever written.
I set up my travel altar on the screened in porch where I would place coffee every day. Then I decided to move it inside, fearing it was too cold. It ended up staying outside when I realized the gods don’t give a shit how cold it is.
I visited a gift shop where I bought a painted glass fox and a pair of earrings. The lady at the register spoke to me for more than an hour about her life and I realized we are all lonely at times and that sometimes strangers make the best listeners. We ended the conversation with “you just have to live. Life never turns out how we expect anyway.” Which I thought was timely and meaningful and perhaps the encounter was more than chance.
I befriended two crows who would wake me up in the morning, follow me to the bagel shop and then appear to greet me when I returned in the afternoon. I played peek a boo with a red squirrel somewhere off Hedgehog Mountain and took a nap on a promontory in the sun. I ate soup and bagels and oatmeal because who wants salads and fruit when its thirty degrees outside. I saw an eagle one day. It was soaring over me and it was so majestic and big it had to have been the god of eagles, if such a thing exists.
I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I left with. But perhaps I do know a little more.
I know the silence is best at times. That less is more. That to connect we should disconnect, and that the thin light of winter is the most beautiful.
When I arrived, I realized I was the only guest at the string of cabins beside the river. At first this was unnerving considering an infamous alien abduction took place across the street, but I consoled myself with the thought it would be unlikely aliens would take me and that if they did, my stay at least would be extended. But one thing was guaranteed and that it would be a quiet stay, besides the river sounds.
My days were simple. I slept until first light. I did allot of what I used to call “hiking” yet now it’s become more of a saunter into the woods. Some days I climbed mountains, others I was satisfied with walking through a birch grove to a pond and sit to watch the swans and listen to the nuthatches or the silence.
Every day I would stop at a farm and buy a cord of wood. At night I would have a fire and sit beside it and watch the flames. Late in the evening I would walk down to the river and admire the stars and the moon, which turned from a crescent to a half as the days passed. I would shake my owl rattle and talk to owl spirit, or sometimes I would just sit there and be.
I wrote every day. I tore apart the novel I am working on, deleted allot, rewrote some, and then decided this is just going to take a long time. The book will be the death of me, yet I do hope I at least finish writing the story before that happens.
I read a book called American Gods by Neil Gaiman and enjoyed it much. In my opinion it is the best take on the Norse gods ever written.
I set up my travel altar on the screened in porch where I would place coffee every day. Then I decided to move it inside, fearing it was too cold. It ended up staying outside when I realized the gods don’t give a shit how cold it is.
I visited a gift shop where I bought a painted glass fox and a pair of earrings. The lady at the register spoke to me for more than an hour about her life and I realized we are all lonely at times and that sometimes strangers make the best listeners. We ended the conversation with “you just have to live. Life never turns out how we expect anyway.” Which I thought was timely and meaningful and perhaps the encounter was more than chance.
I befriended two crows who would wake me up in the morning, follow me to the bagel shop and then appear to greet me when I returned in the afternoon. I played peek a boo with a red squirrel somewhere off Hedgehog Mountain and took a nap on a promontory in the sun. I ate soup and bagels and oatmeal because who wants salads and fruit when its thirty degrees outside. I saw an eagle one day. It was soaring over me and it was so majestic and big it had to have been the god of eagles, if such a thing exists.
I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I left with. But perhaps I do know a little more.
I know the silence is best at times. That less is more. That to connect we should disconnect, and that the thin light of winter is the most beautiful.
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