Holy is the Silence

Back at the lake, my spirit breathes a little easier. I sit and steep in the rolling silence that comes off the mounds of sand, punctuated only by the whisper of a kangaroo rat’s feet, the yip of a coyote, and voices floating over from a distant campground.

This blissful surround of sound and the gentle pressure of silence is unmatched by any entertainment, yet gorgeous music does have its place, praising the expansive heart. I hike long miles in and among the cactus shadows, the honey mesquites, the lengthening sundials of ocotillo stalks.

Coming back to the van well after dark, I stop on the starlit trail with closed eyes, feeling the masses of air and the hills, turning to each of the cardinal directions. For now, I am home. Thank you.