Cacophony and Stillness
An African friend of mine and I were driving from Zimbabwe to South Africa, seemingly the only people in the world – for two days, seeing no one else, not one human being. It was easy being in the bush.
He stopped the truck and pointed to a swarm of bees. At least that is what I thought they were, because they made a loud buzzing sound. What was odd about them is that they stayed in a fairly tight ball – about 5 or 6 feet in diameter. All these buzzing bodies flying around within this circumscribed space hanging in the air, attached to nothing. It was an odd sight/sound.
My friend, pointing to the ball of flying bodies, urged me to go stand in the middle of it. I thought he was crazy. But curiosity got the better of me. So I climbed out of the truck and made my way over to the buzzing ball of bee bodies – oops, not bees, locusts? Cicadas? I'm not sure what they were, but they definitely weren't bees. The picture to the left is a cicada, which is about the size of those bugs (bigger than bees).
So I edged my way into their ball, expecting to have bug bodies bouncing off of me. The ball stayed right where it was, as I inched my way into their midst. Loud. I am sensitive to loud sounds, sometimes feeling stress when around discordant noise. So I closed my eyes to shut out the little
brown bodies hurtling all around me and absorbed the sound … and felt still. It was an odd juxtaposition of cacophony all around me and stillness inside of me. Then I opened my eyes to add the visual sense to the auditory sense. WOW! I was a big, still, quiet intrusion into a buzzing, active cloud of little insects – a part OF their ball. They included me and made room for me – not once touching me. How did they do that? Another African experience.
The other day, I was passing by a large video arcade inside a mall – pinging, whirring, staccato sounds bouncing off the tiles – loud, very loud. I felt myself pull in to protect myself from it. I could have gone still, quiet inside and been a part of the moment, instead of apart from the moment.
I didn't. I could have. Bug sounds in the bush are easier than machine sounds in a mall. Really? I'll experiment. Why don't you join me? Let's practice being 'still' in a cacophonous world.
Ann I can so relate to this. Though I was only 5 years old when I had my heart surgery there in 1959 at Texas Children’s I remember all the noises. I’m very audio centric and being laid up in a hospital bed for 3 weeks with so much stuff connected to me and the NOISE was relentless at times. Clicking, whirling … not as intense as the video arcade you mentioned but still, it was a similar experience.
I figured out how to put my mind between the sounds – it’s like being in a different dimension. I used this later when I learned how to play the drums and feel the music and rhythm between the beats. Of if I’m in a room with an antique clock that is going TICK TOCK loudly at night. I can fall asleep but slowly breathing and focusing my mind totally on the spaces between the tick and the tock each second. It’s feels a bit like being tansported but I’m not sure where I go.
Now if only I can tap into this for my creating writing!
All the best
Tom
that must have been an amazing experience. I am finding this is a practice I am now doing with a five year old. Pulling him into the quiet amidst the chaos.
Hi Melanie,
Yes, and I think it is so important as parents to teach our children to find that still space inside, otherwise it is so easy to get caught up in the drivenness that is rampant in our culture.
Hi Tom,
I’ll bet you do tune into that still space when you are creating – you create a lot! It’s worth the time to explore how to do that consciously … and at will … when you do your creative writing. It helps me to write after 10pm. That’s when the world leaves me alone, and I can be more present to myself. I love the night for that reason. However, it does make my next day come Way too soon! 🙂
Today while I was jogging along my little path in the woods, I became part of a flock of blackbirds (or grackels) on the ground feeding. I let myself be a part of them, rather than an intruder in their space, and my world was expanded. Then, when they all flew into the surrounding mesquite trees, it was amazing that they just seemed to disappear. I knew they were there and I was a part of the world with them in that moment, but I could not see them. I wonder how many things go on that are hidden from our eyes that aren’t used to seeing them?
Thanks for the blog, Ann. I enjoy checking in.
JJ