The myth of silence

 

It’s a myth that snow and silence go together. Although sound  becomes somehow muffled by the white blanket, silent it is not. Trees creak under the weight of the seemingly light snow; echoless thumps of clumps of  cotton wool coolness hitting the white blanket. Sighs of branches still undecided  whether to bend further or break.  In between the creaks, thumps and sighs there is definitely deafening silence.

 

Years ago I learned to listen for the silence in between the don suku don of Taiko players hitting drum skin; I feel  grateful for that lesson when I walk up the hill.

 

I do my chores and go back over the same hill, my mind meandering, going round the bend and off the beaten track. I stop when a thump behind my back has a message for me “Listen for the silence between thoughts”  I sigh and move on smiling.