Startling sounds of evening
Some might call this evening in the mountains boring, quiet or slow. For me the opposite is true. Each sound is so loud it almost hurts my ears: The river rushing relentlessly past, with no break in the momentum; small creatures of the night declaring their existence, and the occasional far off motorized vehicle making its way home or to the gas station for a pack of cigarettes. From our 8th floor balcony I can hear the occasional family as they walk, bike or drive back to the hotel from town.
Summer evenings are enchanted. The world is at rest, happy and content, with no deadlines or places to be for several hours at least.
The river is a paradox of racing, rushing fervor and soothing sounds that have the ability to lull one to sleep. An organized frenzy of activity that, when observed from a distance creates a sense of peace and clarity. We can suddenly see the big picture; we know the direction of the current. And it will continue on to its destination without our help. Perhaps it is this perspective that frees our minds from their petty concerns and gives us a much needed "other centeredness."
I wish that with a camera or a paintbrush I could capture the stars that gleam above, and the way the haze of evening lights mingles with fog to obscure the mountains that nestle the inhabitants of this cozy town. I will have to content myself with this narrative. Another inhabitant is beginning to make his presence known, but I'm starting to think it might be a fish rather than a tiny developing human. Tomorrow marks the beginning of month six, and I am starting to talk a bit forcibly at times to my little son, telling him in no uncertain terms to stay safe and keep on growing in his liquid cocoon.
I think I am starting to like motherhood.
Summer evenings are enchanted. The world is at rest, happy and content, with no deadlines or places to be for several hours at least.
The river is a paradox of racing, rushing fervor and soothing sounds that have the ability to lull one to sleep. An organized frenzy of activity that, when observed from a distance creates a sense of peace and clarity. We can suddenly see the big picture; we know the direction of the current. And it will continue on to its destination without our help. Perhaps it is this perspective that frees our minds from their petty concerns and gives us a much needed "other centeredness."
I wish that with a camera or a paintbrush I could capture the stars that gleam above, and the way the haze of evening lights mingles with fog to obscure the mountains that nestle the inhabitants of this cozy town. I will have to content myself with this narrative. Another inhabitant is beginning to make his presence known, but I'm starting to think it might be a fish rather than a tiny developing human. Tomorrow marks the beginning of month six, and I am starting to talk a bit forcibly at times to my little son, telling him in no uncertain terms to stay safe and keep on growing in his liquid cocoon.
I think I am starting to like motherhood.
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