Welcomed my birthday in silence this year. If one could call two dogs pouncing after sleeping ducks – with all the thumps and squeaks and the slap of wings and the paddle of webbed feet – a silent affair.
As if anything in nature is ever silent. I had to invent silence.
That morning I was a woman who’s best-before had ticked closer. To make it official, I stared into the sunrise on an island made of sand and trees and rocks covered in bird poop.
A dead baby seal had washed up ashore. Another silent affair. Nature can be silent after all. I called the dogs off and prayed for the eagles to make healthy eagle-babies with this bounty.
Aside from the dogs, I was alone. There wasn’t another living person for miles. They were all in some other world across the water. In a dimension of business and unspoken words. Silent affairs.
My heart felt those connections across the sea, mostly asleep. Rejoiced in the fact. Sent a wave of gratitude for the blessings of their existence. Acknowledged some yearnings for my own. Made some plans.
The sun rose above the trees.
For the subsequent affair with extra sleep, I had to wear earplugs. The living nature is never silent. One of the dogs snores like a tiny sailor, so I have to bar the doors to my ears to shut that part of nature out.
In truth – regardless of my choice of quiet celebration – I very much love all kinds of people. Even the loud ones; especially if they dare speak the unspoken words and manage it with clarity and precision. Or even if they make a mess of it. The Truth – like all that’s alive in nature – is meant to make noise.
Here’s to another round. The most honest one ever. If I have a say in it.
P.S. Why is it that ‘miles’ sounds infinitely more poetic than ‘kilometers’? Not even sure what’s in a mile, but can’t help using the word. Odd.
Well of Peace 