I have started noticing the nearly imperceptible shifts of the seasons, the comings and goings of time upon the land. Each day brings a new change to this place, the Canary grass is just a bit taller, and the deer frequent the pond now to eat and drink. The return of my winged friends each morning as the sun crests the hill. The frogs have started singing late into the evening as I drift off to sleep.
When I lived elsewhere, I barely noticed the changes. The business of city life created a veil over my senses that blinded me to the subtle shifts of the earth, of how the cycles of life unfold all around us.
The quietness and calm create a song all its own, hidden amongst the trees and rocks. Sometimes it’s so quiet that all I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I have had tinnitus for what seems like forever, and I wonder if I truly know what quiet sounds like. With no background noise, planes, cars, leaf blowers, and the other music of modern society, quiet for me can become deafening in its own right.
This is solitude as I experience it. Most of my time is spent alone. Not necessarily lonely, but alone.
I have found in this solitude a certain calm and connection to self that I hadn’t felt before. A certain inward path has appeared on which I learn how to better see who, what I am, what is around me, and what is meant by life. It has really shown light upon how we are part of the earth, even though we are, at times, poor stewards of the land we inhabit. Even here, where most of the land I inhabit has been mostly untouched, I find our imprint on it. A few times a week, I walk and observe the abundant life around me. Ferns, moss, trees, rocks, tiny bits of plastic, old plastic bags, various detritus of all kinds, rusted car parts, and an old boat deteriorating amongst the trees.
I fill my pockets with plastic bits and old nails. The markings of my kind. I wonder, is this how we mark our territory? Like a grizzly bear leaving claw marks on trees.