The zen of silence
March 28, 2008, 12:45 am
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Koalas sighted: 1

CD playing: refer title:-)

A simply beautiful morning for walking this morning. A little overcast but clear after a cold, cold night, the air feels so fresh after the rain we’ve had (we’ve had rain – hallelujah!) and the colours of the leaves look a little brighter now the dust has washed off. And if you look  hard enough, you can even see the tiniest tinge of green as new grass peeks out of the sundried earth.

And it was so quiet! So quiet I could hear birdsong from way across the valley, the squawk of parrots wheeling through the gum trees, the bleat of the sheep in the paddock. So quiet I could hear the voices in my head speak to me. That’s why I love to walk. It gives those voices a chance to be heard and to argue and laugh and be passionate so that when I get home again, there’s half a chance I might be able to capture something of that passion on the page. But they always put it so much better than I can capture it.

 I love driving for much the same reason. And while there are times I curse the mum’s taxi life so many of us have, I do love the solitude and the chance to take my characters with me to continue a scene, or work out where I’ve gone wrong and how to make it better. It seems so much easier to do that when I’m not staring at a computer screen for some reason. So it drives me to distraction when miss 17 jumps into front seat and immediately starts punching buttons on the radio, switching between channels. Why is it that 17yo’s can’t think without the radio and I can’t think with it? Unlike a CD I choose to play, with commercial radio I have no control over what is played, over the mood or tone or the lyrics. It messes with my head. It messes with my voices. And I need my voices.

So I’m walking around the block today and thinking how totally peaceful and serene it is and enjoying listening to my voices and wondering why I can never think of lines that good, and I swear there was the roar of engines and half a dozen cars pelted past in both directions.

And while I’m there thinking, so much for silence, the voices in my head laughed at me and said, “what’s your problem? – stop  eavesdropping and get home to work!” and I figured they were right.  Silence doesn’t last (at least, not until that big final sleep and even then I’m guessing)  but then neither does chocolate or cherry blossom or even orgasms, and maybe that’s a good thing.

Not only because it makes us appreciate them all the more. But because otherwise we’d never get a thing done. So, to work…

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