Tuesday, November 13, 2012

No Talking —

Today was our designated day of silence. No speaking for twelve hours. This experiment grew out of a book about silence and the rewards of turning inward for a day. We started out each leaving the house at a different time for a two mile walk before breakfast. I tried to make it a meditative walk and half succeeded until I began to count pine cones along the side of the road. Why pine ones? I also found myself fascinated with a closed gate that led to an open field and then on to a small pond. Why close the gate? It isn't as if the area is private. And the gate could easily be opened, but being closed it made the area behind more enticing.

The gate provided me with a metaphor for the day. Closing down in silence really meant opening up to an interior space.



Given that the weather accommodated our day with a balmy 70 degrees I headed over to Walden Pond with my chair, water bottle, pack of books, notebook, and camera. Leaving the house for my day included a number of trips back and forth taking half the house to my car: a sandwich for lunch, an apple, a huge container of water, a thermos of Assam tea, a camera, and finally a tripod.

I parked my car and made a mental note of where it was parked. Since today was Veteran's Day a number of people decided to go to Walden Pond. Many were trekking around the pond, a few families were sitting on the sand, and some other folks were looking for quiet spots. I finally set myself down and looked up to see two people swimming across the pond-- where despite the warmth elsewhere managed to be cooler. Then I spotted two women dressed in wet gear heading for the water.

After settling in I took out my Kindle and read several chapters of 1 Kings and then several chapters of John. A woman settled down ten feet away-- spread a blanket on the sand, took out a book, opened a brown paper bag and removed a sandwich, chips and an apple. A train on the other side of the pond interrupted the quiet. Then a couple settled down twenty feet away on my other side. The woman spread a blanket and the man opened up a lounge chair. They both took out earphones and settled into listening. I moved on to a novel. Two more wet suit clad people jumped into Walden Pond. Now four people were busy circumnavigating the pond. The woman on the blanket went to sleep on her blanket.

Since I had left my watch at home I had no idea of the time. Back at the car I took out my peanut bitter and jelly sandwich. The somewhat stale seeded oat bread needed a lot of liquid to make it palatable. But the apple was still crisp and the tea made the repast appear as a banquet-- or almost a banquet.

I avoided looking at the car clock.



Autumn leaves clog the edges of the water-- a reminder of the season.




Time to walk at Great Meadow where some ducks swim near the cat tails. Today, obviously is a day for swimming. Fewer people are here and those that are walking stop once the water disappears -- the view obscured by high weeds. It's quiet enough to hear the wind breathe between the leaves. I walk and meditate. Two ducks engage in figure eight moves. Too bad they weren't company for the wet suit swimmers.



Two benches suggest a place to stop--I pass on this chance and continue walking.

So what happened today? I counted pine cones, found a closed gate that could be opened, noted that swimmers are drawn to Walden Pond with its 110 feet depth first measured by Thoreau, stared at water bubbles on the pond edge, realized that seeded oat bread is heavy, wished I had an iced coffee, walked six miles, saw a wood duck and a mallard, watched a small boy totally engrossed in playing on the edge of the pond-- dipping his sneaker into the water, and realized that what I see and hear as well as quieting down takes me past the closed gate into the open field.



3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I like your metaphor: 'Closing down in silence really meant opening up to an interior space.'

A very good day. Will you do it again?

November 16, 2012  
Blogger Linda said...

The simple answer is yes.

November 17, 2012  
Blogger Cathy said...

I love "silence". Always have. Not enough people are comfortable with it and have to fill it in. Why is that?

November 20, 2012  

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