"True silence is the rest of the mind; it is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment."
William Penn (1644 - 1718)
The still water turns into a mirror reflecting the ever changing colors of the sky as the sunset fades exposing the secrets of the evening. Bird calls fill the air with a multitude of sweet sounds as they signal the waning daylight. Cormorants that once stood along the water’s edge with long coal black wing capturing the sun are long gone, replaced with a silhouette of the lone sentinel standing on a small rise, a tall sand hill crane. The glass like surface of the water is broken by the head of a small snapping turtle as small circles radiate out proclaiming his presence like a target on a radar screen. Slowly without purpose the turtle drifts past the in a silent parade chasing the clouds. Across the other shore bull frog calls bounce and skip along the water’s surface competing with a chorus of crickets as the symphony of sounds reach a summer crescendo.
Deeply I inhale the heavy dense humid air into my expanding lungs as my skin glistens with the moisture that fills every pore. The heat of the day is ebbing, but the evening air is still warm, slowing activity to a quiet deliberate crawl. Each deep breath strips away my concerns of the past couple of days falling like petals of a faded blossom. For the first time in many days tension flows grounding me like electricity seeking the earth. The rich laden moist air is a long lost friend that has returned to reminisce. Sitting silent draped in a moist blanket of mist my comforted mind begins to drift, wandering about looking for hidden points of connection like a blind man fumbling to read braille with thick pudgy fingers. I seek to find the latch to open the door allowing me to enter a room filled with the joys of life and childhood insight.
With my eyes closed I become immersed with the sounds of the water on this summer night. I am no longer an object removed and apart from my surroundings peering from the edge of a balcony seat, but totally enveloped and connected. As the line between my inner self and the natural world melts away, my senses become boundless stretching through the dark trees and over the horizon. I can taste the earth for a considerable distance as if it was placed in my mouth to savior. Carefully I drink in each bird song as the rolling dialogue allows me to understand a call and response from another bird across the water, eavesdropping on the conversation between two hopeful lovers.
This isolated sanctuary provides me great solace as a retreat from the realities of the moment. It is such a shame that I take few opportunities to visit, always deciding that there is something more important to do, an event more critical to attend or a client more demanding that needs attention. This house has been a part of the family for more than a decade and my constant efforts to return result in one or two visits each year. The environment is so nurturing and serene that much of my time in residence, I’m in a deep blissful slumber as my mind restores the structural foundation of my sanity. I have never found a place that so completely shifts my mind to quiet surrender.
Solitude is infinite and the world cannot intrude. No one has this phone number, the cell phone is turned off, there is no internet connection, there is no email, the television has not been turned on in days and I can see no reason to pick up a newspaper to read the depressing news of the day. Entering this sanctuary immediately negates the relevance of all the pressing issues of all that surround me, allowing me to cultivate a connection with my inner voice. For that brief moment my mind drifts and dreams fills me eyes as I listen to sounds of the world so far removed.
TO SOLITUDE
O SOLITUDE! If I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; - climb with me the steep,
Nature's Observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes - its rivers crystal swell,
May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilioned; where the Deer's swift leap
Startles the wild Bee from the Fox-glove bell.
Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee;
But the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
John Keats (1795-1821)
Deeply I inhale the heavy dense humid air into my expanding lungs as my skin glistens with the moisture that fills every pore. The heat of the day is ebbing, but the evening air is still warm, slowing activity to a quiet deliberate crawl. Each deep breath strips away my concerns of the past couple of days falling like petals of a faded blossom. For the first time in many days tension flows grounding me like electricity seeking the earth. The rich laden moist air is a long lost friend that has returned to reminisce. Sitting silent draped in a moist blanket of mist my comforted mind begins to drift, wandering about looking for hidden points of connection like a blind man fumbling to read braille with thick pudgy fingers. I seek to find the latch to open the door allowing me to enter a room filled with the joys of life and childhood insight.
With my eyes closed I become immersed with the sounds of the water on this summer night. I am no longer an object removed and apart from my surroundings peering from the edge of a balcony seat, but totally enveloped and connected. As the line between my inner self and the natural world melts away, my senses become boundless stretching through the dark trees and over the horizon. I can taste the earth for a considerable distance as if it was placed in my mouth to savior. Carefully I drink in each bird song as the rolling dialogue allows me to understand a call and response from another bird across the water, eavesdropping on the conversation between two hopeful lovers.
This isolated sanctuary provides me great solace as a retreat from the realities of the moment. It is such a shame that I take few opportunities to visit, always deciding that there is something more important to do, an event more critical to attend or a client more demanding that needs attention. This house has been a part of the family for more than a decade and my constant efforts to return result in one or two visits each year. The environment is so nurturing and serene that much of my time in residence, I’m in a deep blissful slumber as my mind restores the structural foundation of my sanity. I have never found a place that so completely shifts my mind to quiet surrender.
Solitude is infinite and the world cannot intrude. No one has this phone number, the cell phone is turned off, there is no internet connection, there is no email, the television has not been turned on in days and I can see no reason to pick up a newspaper to read the depressing news of the day. Entering this sanctuary immediately negates the relevance of all the pressing issues of all that surround me, allowing me to cultivate a connection with my inner voice. For that brief moment my mind drifts and dreams fills me eyes as I listen to sounds of the world so far removed.
TO SOLITUDE
O SOLITUDE! If I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; - climb with me the steep,
Nature's Observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes - its rivers crystal swell,
May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilioned; where the Deer's swift leap
Startles the wild Bee from the Fox-glove bell.
Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee;
But the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
John Keats (1795-1821)
