This week, I've been wondering if the noise our culture makes drawns out the melody of our souls. Have you ever gone through your day and noticed the sounds you are surrounded by?
Today, I awoke to the sound of my electronic alarm clock screeching like a drunken bird. Then came the sound of my son playing a drum solo with the help of our pots and pans. Breakfast this morning brought a moment of serenity and the sound of summer peaches around our dining table.
As I stepped out the door, I noticed that our car had a flat tire. Then came the sound of me cursing at the lugnuts. When I dropped off the car to be fixed I heard a song that said, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy."
I didn't need that kind of advice in my state of mind. I just needed a tire.
Somewhere between being jarred out of my sleep like a car accident victim and the song about sexing up cowboys, I lost track of the only things in life worth hearing. This happens to me all the time. Most days, all I hear grinding transmissions and power lines...
Songs without soul.
Souls without song.
Every morning, I wake to a certain disquietude inside me. I'm constantly tempted to fill the air with empty language. My mouth is usually a ampetheater for my ignorance. My hope lately is that silence can lead me back to things worth listening to.
Mountain air and aspen branches.
I miss hearing the sound these instruments make.
