I was sitting alone on our deck in the pre-dawn dark. It was early Fall. The air was cool but not chill, not yet.
I closed my eyes to concentrate on listening to that sound, almost a murmur…
At first, the specialist thought I had a brain tumor. It was the most likely cause of something this sudden. While I never regained full hearing in my right ear, I was told – after testing – I had better hearing with one ear than most my age had with two.
After so many years, I had become accustomed to hearing what others might not.
We’ve always been able to sit for hours, watching the restless, ceaseless waves batter the rocks that line that shore.
And the sea otters. There are lots of sea otters in Monterey Bay and along this section of the California coast.
Sometimes we listen to music we’ve brought with us. Sometimes we talk. Often we’re silent, contemplative, calm…
It is always comforting.
And so, watching the waves do their relentless work, I finally understood what I had heard sitting outside on my deck on that Fall day, in the stillness of pre-dawn.
It wasn’t the wind. It wasn’t something distant. It was close, right there…
It was the voice of endless time, whispering to the trees and the leaves they carry, not to worry, not to be anxious about what was happening to them.
It was whispering consolation, saying, “Fear not. Rest. I’ll awaken you soon.”
Shhhh… Quiet your inner voice.
Can you hear it too?