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1 September 2012 | Category: Stories | Author: Clare

I took a break last night and sat on the deck for a few moments and absorbed the world.

One project or another sees me working late every night. Stopping to mull over the next step, swallowing a mouthful of beer, or absent mindedly scratching a hopeful dog's ear are about the only forms of respite that exist now.

So to sit blissfully with no humming generator, screaming power tools, or music felt like heaven. Strange that I was about to refer to that as silence.  

But it is not silence, as much as an absence of human noise.

A breeze I had barely noticed stood guardian over us, keeping the mosquitoes at bay, and providing sufficient movement in the canopy for the last vestiges of sunlight to dance playfully on the trunks of the surrounding trees.

Miscellaneous birds scattered and returned to the wet-land, squirrels chattered, and the mountains in the distance started to glow red like a promise to return; a silent protest against the evening that was tugging at the remaining hallmarks of the day.

It felt almost like a gift to sit there, and I wondered how many nights had passed that I had been completely oblivious to this wonderful winding down.

It was a thought without recrimination; I think sometimes we choose to blunder along blinded to give ourselves enough time to collect the energy and courage it takes to actually see.

It is truly beautiful out here.

The birds slowly thin out, the incredible plethora of insect life that buzzes around the cabin in complex variety dissipates, even the plants and trees seem to quiet; the whole forest exhaling, slowly settling contentedly into what can only be described as nature's slumber.

The activity is stilled for a few hours; the tide is quelled.

Everything can wait until tomorrow.

It is nights like that, that I lose myself, any sense of purpose, and even identity.

In this tiny little patch of the world that I think of as my own, there is so much to observe. More than it is possible to absorb, or soak in. All you can do is sit there silently and let it wash over you.

If you are lucky enough to feel lost and insignificant in your own world momentarily and then strike gold, and consider that your world is itself small and inconsequential, then in that brief conscious moment you realise you are nothing.

We are, at best, complete obscurity in the broader world. On the planet, in the solar system, dust in the universe.

An indescribably poignant feeling; but for some reason incredibly reassuring.

How can we cling to any real notions of ourselves, our troubles, our pain, when we are surrounded by immeasurable life. How silly to torment ourselves.

I just wish we could bottle that sentiment, and drink from it.

Because all too quickly we are blinded again.

Perhaps we find it easier that way.


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