My Silence

Some mornings I wake up with the sun shining full in our bedroom windows, and the windows are left open slightly overnight to draw in the cool air, so in the mornings they also draw in the sound of the birds in the trees of the park across the street. And when I walk the dogs across to the park and the old dog lays down in the sun, and when I look up and down the valley and then up toward Canmore Wall, there is a light and shadow cast by the rising sun that are both deep and cool, a raven flying over the treetops at the end of the road, swallows darting around the park and then deep into the treeline behind our house. The valley displayed in hyper-3D, dizzying and beautiful and the lighting everywhere reminds me of how small I am, and I’m grateful for that.

I read a line recently that said “I am my silence.” and it’s true, I am my silence. If I can stay with that when work goes bad, or when the bank calls, or when the grocery store is crowded, or when I’m cut off in traffic, if I can stick in the place of my silence I’m unaffected, untouchable.


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