Walking in silence
Sitting in silence
Bathing in silence
Letting it roll around my feet
My heart
Allowing silence to drift up from the leaf strewn path
Trickle into my legs
Wrap silken bonds around my head
Muffling noises
Settling voices
that would otherwise take me away from here
Listening to the fire crackle
Watch the rain slide down the glass
As I lay back in this bath
Basking in unadulterated silence
*My week-end, which feels like a month ago, was deeply refreshing. My husband dropped me into a cabin in the middle of a forest, a cocoon of silence and just myself for company.
It was the sort of place that is small, sparse but with luxury touches like the sunken spa bath which sat in a glass alcove surrounded by trees. The wood fire that I immediately lit (it’s still cold up in the hinterland off the coast) and the delicious food both in the restaurant and supplied to my room as a hamper.
Decadent
Yet the most luxurious thing of all was the silence. The lack of wifi. The spacious breadth of an unplanned day, doing whatever I felt like. And enjoying my solitude.
Some people don’t like to be alone, but I love it. It doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy time with other people, I do – but spending time with myself is like spending time with my very best friend, and I make time for that. I think it’s important.
It’s also nice that I don’t have to argue about what to do, or how to spend the time -pleasing oneself is a very relaxing pastime.
I hiked down to the bottom of the waterfall in the adjacent national park. I rested sore muscles in the bubbling spa bath. I read a really good book snuggled under a soft blanket by the fire. Then I went hiking again, and then I stoked the fire, and then I drank some tea, or ate, all very simple stuff.
And time unravelled slowly and my head became quiet to match my surroundings – it was beautiful
Silence, it’s the cheapest thing in the world but so difficult to find. Oh, I can sit in a quiet room and in fact my house is pretty quiet all day. But the sort of silence that comes from having absolutely nothing to do, not even a pot plant to water or a bench to tidy, no messages to answer, or a companion to ask what they would like for dinner.
It’s the sort of silence that comes from having no mental to do list, no attachment to outcome, and no distractions from the glorious expanse of unburdened moment after moment after moment.
That sort of silence is truly golden. And I determined to try and carry some home with me.
Like a delicate snowflake, once taken out of its environment, it melted in transit. But the memory is a treasure that can’t be stolen.
And so I wrote a poem – it isn’t great, granted but it’s something to remind me if I ever look back – of what it was like to be a truly free human for a day or two.
Some photos taken during my hikes
