Noises are everywhere. Even when you think it's quiet, rest assured there's something audible going on. Whether it be the sound of my computer humming as I type or the quiet sound of my own breath as I drift off to sleep, I've noticed this week that it's a noisy, noisy world out there.
I was struck this week by how much I tend to take noises for granted. I mean, the sound of rushing water, even if it's only rushing into the kitchen sink, is pretty cool. So too is the sound of my own heartbeat when I can hear it in those quieter moments.
There have been times this week when I've been so aware of noises that it's been a little overwhelming. Yet, surprisingly, I've also noticed that some sounds are 'better' at drawing me into the moment ... my son's laughter, for one; the sharp clang of my yoga tingsha bells (in the hands of my son), for another. The fewer the perceived noises, the easier I've found it to be drawn into the moment, too. When it's really noisy, lots of sounds competing against each other, it has felt a little like being inside my own head - incessant, clamorous, nonsensical. I've felt scattered, misplaced, confused. With just a few noises to attend to, and more 'peaceful' ones at that, the present has seemed easier to attend to. Like right now, as I sit at my computer typing this, I can hear the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, the hum of the computer and the faint sound of a television at the other end of the house. Not overwhelming; oddly grounding.
As well as recognising the way sound can punctuate, define and announce the present moment, this week has given me a greater appreciation for the subtlety of the things I can hear. Not everyone is so blessed.