The sound of silence - a short story

The sound of silence - a short story

I appear to be developing heightened sensory powers. Not of X-men proportions you understand but certainly at a level I have not appreciated or been aware of for a long time. Spending all my time at home, adapting to a new way of living and working is clearly giving me time to stop and think, more often than was previously the case anyway.

This afternoon I have been seated in the kitchen, working away on my laptop, with my back to the door, slightly ajar, the outside joining me in. Between tasks I found myself taking a little, unscheduled time out, a momentary lapse of concentration that quickly morphed into to a more reflective and peaceful phase. What hit me was the silence. The absolute peace and quiet. To quote the Oxford Dictionary and it’s definition of silence, “a complete lack of noise or sound.”

In then focusing on that silence however I became aware of more. There was a recognition of what I couldn’t hear. A blissful absence of anything man-made. The normal day-to-day sound of motor vehicles passing on the lanes, or the sound of a jet engine accelerating its way across the sky. A look to the heavens confirmed no twin white arrows of spent aviation fuel. Even a Tesla cannot remove the sound of rubber tyres on tarmac. Here I was, in heavenly silence.

This is where I move on to the next stage of my silent journey and heightened state of consciousness. Still not super-human but a wonderful, elevated level nonetheless. If Stage One was recognising the silence, Stage Two appreciating it,

then I was just entering Stage Three, where I would fully immerse myself in it. This stage I found to be exquisitely beautiful. It was not silent at all, far from it. When I focused on the stillness it became alive, full of precious, soft and calming noise.

The silence I heard was one of birds frantically chatting to each other, caught up in feverish song. Listening more intently I became aware of the bees, busily flying early season sorties on the hunt for fresh pollen.

Moments later, a very special sound, to me anyway, the slow, methodical, heart-warming clippity-clop of a horse and rider as they pass by somewhere, out of sight but within ear-shot.

I’m immediately reminded that it’s not just me that is mesmerised by this sound of silence, as the dog contentedly lets out a deep sigh as she curls up on the sofa. On second thoughts, maybe she is just fed-up of waiting patiently for her dinner.

The silence was briefly and pleasantly punctuated by the distant sound of young children at play. The infectious nature of a child’s laughter hardly gives one cause to begrudge it’s disturbance of the peace.

Next up is a small squadron of geese flying overhead, sharing coordinates with each other as they go. Then, the gentle flap of a blackbirds wings as she disappears back to her nest in the laurel hedge.

I’m not at the beach or the lakeside but the tranquil surroundings give me cause to close my eyes and replay times of being in such places and hearing the gentle lapping of waves on the shore.

As late afternoon draws and the temperature drops there is a faint rustling of leaves as the breeze picks up. This would appear to be my cue to close the door and get back to work.

I have never engaged in meditation and I suspect I never will but I can understand the attraction. I might however lobby the Dons at Oxford to come up with a more practical definition of silence and it’s true sound.