“Happiness is not always loud and bright and crowded.” —E.L. Konigsburg
I lived in silence.
And yet I heard everything.
The silence restored my soul. It gave me the peace and quiet I so desired from the marketplace. When I go into a shop and it is quiet, I am thankful. I stop going into stores that have blasting loud noise they try to call music.
I usually compliment the clerks and thank them for the store’s quiet. The cacophony that is mistaken for pleasantness eludes me and I long for quiet. I just sit in my livingroom and appreciate that my home is quiet. And I can think and ponder and wonder and be amused with memories good.
Except for its usual sounds, such as the heat kicking on, or the birdsong outside my windows, or the soft ticking of one of the clocks in the kitchen, my home sits quietly. There is such peace in that silence.
Once an appointment at the oral surgeon’s meant loud TV noise and I asked to have it turned off which was done. Another visit and the music was so loud, I again asked to have it turned off. Who can think with all that noise masquerading as music? Why must everyone be subjected to loud, disturbing, noise? What is so harmful about silence? Silence is golden. Has no one ever heard of classical music?
I hear in my mind’s eye the church bells in Vienna. The church was two blocks around the corner from my hotel and I was driven to follow their sound. I hear the quite passage on the Vienna Ringstrasse Street straddling the Vienna Opera House as the international parade of visitors meander down its passageway. The Karlsplatz heard languages from every point on earth. The Opera House had its first performance in May 1869. American bombs destroyed most of it during the War, but it was rebuilt. Oh, to contemplate the sounds of Mozart drifting from there.
I hear my father’s name spoken in reverence. I insist on my complete name being used to honor my father. Every time it is used his memory remains. As long as I live, he lives and his unconditional love fills my soul. Just as the George Michel songs says “I will be your Father baby, put your tiny hand in mine. Hold on.”
I can hear Big Ben in London or the church bells of Paris. I relive my experiences there and smile in complete reminisce. I remember the quiet sounds of Florence, Italy, and enjoying gelato in the square just absorbing that scene. I hear the sound of the jet taking off and know soon I will be back in America.
I like the city of Chicago, the Lakefront, the Berghoff Restaurant, the Art Institute, the Bean, but mostly it is raucous and dirty. When the train travels back to Aurora, I leave that noise and gradually enjoy the quiet of the passing parade.
Listen to the sounds of silence and they will restore your equilibrium. The night descends and we enjoy the experience of Spring in all her quiet glory.