Some time after bangslam of the train ride, the blaring subway stop announcements, too loud and too distorted for any understanding, but before the sirens, taxicab horns and jackhammers, all nicely mixed with the bleaters on their cellphones and the deeply bassed back beated smack crack rap from the speakers at the Gap, I had a vision.
No, that's wrong.
A vision is for the eyes, what I had was an audio stroke. My head, filled with every noise, bang, crackle thud of the city, suddenly cleared and I heard nothing. Nothing, no thing, no sound, no background music of my life movie reached my brain. In that moment I was no longer at the corner of 12th Street and Broadway with half a jerk chicken quesidilla in my hand, I was on a West Texas highway standing by my bicycle in the blazing August heat of the Hotter than Hell Hundred. Standing there that day, that afternoon, that moment, I heard silence for the first time. I heard no wind, heard no bird, heard no bug, heard no breeze and, holding my breath while holding my water bottle, heard no thing.
The girl and I had snuck through Hell's Gate at the forty mile mark so they couldn't tell us that we couldn't go on through the 118 degrees of highway-softening heat for sixty more. On we went, ten miles between official stops, where they put towels soaked in ice water on you and pinch your arm flesh to see if you are properly cooked, but this was an unofficial stop about the 78 mile mark. We stopped on the side of the barren chip and seal road to drain our bottles into ourselves. There was no sound. The country there is like the pictures sent back from Mars. Rocks and sand studded here and there with some kind of stubborn bush with tiny, tiny flowers. What was God thinking when He made this little dab of life here among the crushed sandstone, a floral arangment for the Chapel of the Desolate?
We stood there for perhaps only three minutes, listening to the nothingness, then we rode on, got iced down two more times and finished the 100 with our heads full of steam and dreams of pasta.
This is supposed to be a question, so here goes: Where is it that you go when the world overwhelms you? Where is your quietest place on Planet Earth? Is it a chapel in Paris or a yoga center in the mountains?
Tell me how you got there and how often you go back.
Directions, maps and permission to enter optional.
The sound of the sea, at sea. Engines off, just drifting. Sky and water reflecting each other. Temperature about 60 F and a warming on shore wind. Gulls just sliding about their thremals and a whale slips almost silently by. A finback. It rises and spumes and then begins its slow motion glide in an arc exposing more and more 10 ft sections until , at the end of the arc, a huge shiny wet and artfully maneuvered tail . It slips silently down to , who knows how deep .
I continue reading and rocking.
I return to those memories as my quiet place. I return once a year for a refresher course in its reality. We spend way too much time on land you know.
As for overwhelming, i guess im not easily overwhelmed, cause even a bustling vertical hot winded city can be a source of some kind of inspiration, well maybe not ST Louis
0 Replies
cicerone imposter
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:29 pm
Joe, I'm one of those people that loves this world; the countries, the cities, the sites, the sounds, the landscapes, the people, the food, the drinks, the smells, the oceans, the mountains, the sky, the animals, the old, the new, the museums, the theater, the music, the botanical gardens, and the sounds. Yes, it sometimes overwhelms, but there are always quiet places to contemplate, and enjoy the scenery for the moment. I've sat in many bars around this world, and enjoyed them all. I've talked to strangers, and made a few new friends. Sat in some out-of-the-way restaurants, and enjoyed a simple meal or two. I'm now planning for a trip to Antarctica, but will probably wait until next year, because I'm now serving on the Grand Jury. Life is full of surprises and enjoyment. I hope this world continues to overwhelm me.
0 Replies
Joe Nation
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:29 pm
Nice FM, remind me to tell you about the canoe and the lake and morning dew.
J
0 Replies
RicardoTizon
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:34 pm
I live in the Philippines and despite the beauty of the place, it is also a crowded. It is expensive to runaway and take a vacation so my place of solace is through books. I could be in my room or the library but it is the books that transports me to many magical places. Isaac Asimov does a good work for me as well as any Reader's Digest Condensed Book. As soon as I opened the pages, I am there.
0 Replies
cicerone imposter
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:37 pm
Ricardo, WELCOME to A2K. c.i.
0 Replies
ossobuco
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:38 pm
Our city park is a virgin redwood grove with a path down through the redwoods and ferns to a pond, meadow, and large stand of alders at the low end of the park. This time of year the blackberries are in fruit right by the meadow path.
This place is usually pretty quiet, except for once in a while, when one of the birds over at the little zoo lets out a blood curdling cry.
This is about twenty blocks from my house...
0 Replies
Joe Nation
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:42 pm
yeah, Osso, nature can be noisy. and at just the wrong moment.
Salamat, Richardo, welcome to A2k. Books are mindfreers. Come over to "What book are you reading right now?" and fill us in.
J
0 Replies
Tyrius
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:43 pm
Since i have recently moved the only place i have found so far is about a 10 minute walk from my families apartment. Walking down the street there is a creek following the creek, there is a bench and its tottally off from any buildings its quite nice actually. Seeing flowing water always calms me down so i like this area.
0 Replies
Butrflynet
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:43 pm
I have two places of escape, the Pt. Reyes National Seashore and the Monterey Bay Pennisula. Going there just for a weekend leaves me feeling as if I'd just had a two-week vacation.
In Pt. Reyes there is a hillside above a friend's house that I climb. From there I can see the entire Tomales Bay as it reaches for the mouth of the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes I bring a kite with me, more often not.
In Monterey, I take walks along the cliffs and wander through Pacific Grove flirting with the butterflies.
0 Replies
ossobuco
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:50 pm
Butryflynet, that's wonderful. I just discovered that area last year when I went to a wedding in Inverness, near, as you know, Point Reyes Station. Once I left the town of Petaluma, which is bisected by the state highway 101, and headed west, the whole ride was incredibly beautiful...even the way to the sea is beautiful. I guess most of the property is owned by someone or some entity that isn't subdividing and building.... fortunately for the rest of us.
0 Replies
ossobuco
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:51 pm
Tyrius, your quiet place sounds sort of like mine...
0 Replies
cicerone imposter
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 08:59 pm
All those small towns along the ocean from San Francisco up to Mendocino are all really nice places to visit. My wife and I stayed at a B&B a few years ago, and enjoyed that part of California for one week. It was lovely.
0 Replies
Joe Nation
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 09:02 pm
I loved Monterey. The energy there was floating around in the air so you could reach out and grab a chunk of it. I was the DLIWCB 1967-68 but I spent so much time down on the rocks south of the old canneries that I began to feel it was my home. At night, I played music at Ace's Pizza and down at some place named Doc's or Papa's or something. There wasn't much silence.
Somewhere in the boxes are photos of the waves of Monterey shooting straight up over the red rocks on the beach.
0 Replies
dyslexia
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 09:11 pm
there is an island surrounded by desert, high on the uncompaghre plateau. it is 60 miles and a 5 hour drive from the nearest gas station. it was first discovered by a wandering spanish priest named Dominguez and has seldom been seen since that time. there is a creek as wide as a man can broad jump and as deep as his knees, with brook trout under the logs and behind the stones eating the flies of summer. when the dawn starts to break and you are very quiet (and down wind) you might see the puma but not for long. the cedar breaks, the pinon and the ponderosa are dwarfed by a few scattered cottonwood trees. sandstone canyon walls creep away from the sides a stones throw on each side of the creek. the ancient ones passed by here, rested and moved down into the valleys. I have lived a life there.
0 Replies
cicerone imposter
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 09:21 pm
One of the reasons we love living in Sunnyvale is the proximity to all those attractions from south of Carmel up the coast to Mendocino. Some of the inland places such as Sonoma/Napa, San Luis Obispo, and the whole San Francisco Bay Area are nice. Our ability to drive up to the Sierra Nevada mountains in four-five hours is also an advantage. It's one of the reasons my wife doesn't want to move from here. Most of our family and friends also live within a hundred mile radius. It's hard to beat, because we also have a moderate climate year round.
0 Replies
Diane
1
Reply
Fri 3 Oct, 2003 09:21 pm
The desert and the mountains are my places of repose.
Edward Abbey describes it perfectly in Desert Solitaire, when describing evening in the Arches National Monument:
"In the evening the wind stops. A low gray ceiling of clouds hangs over the desert from horizon to horizon, silent and still. One small opening remains in the west. The sun peers through as it goes down. For a few minutes the voodoo monuments burn with a golden light, then fade to rose and blue and violet as the sun winks out and drops. My private juniper stands alone, one dead claw reaching at the sky. The blossoms on the cliffrose are folding up, the scarlet penstemon and the bayonets of the yucca turn dull and vague in the twilight."
On the other hand, the city, especially New York, has a way of making me focus and wake up as all my senses are pummeled with the grit, beauty, energy and hugeness of skyscrapers and all the people. No place else on earth can make me feel so totally energized.
The best place of course, is in the arms of the man I love, even if it is a memory that needs to comfort and console me until I get home.
Just thinking about all the places that have tremendous meaning to me, I realize that I could write an essay and still not mention everyplace that I find special, in its own way.
Thanks, Joe, for making me stop and think of all the beauty in which I live.
0 Replies
Ceili
1
Reply
Sat 4 Oct, 2003 05:06 am
In my head, I return to a tiny bay on the Quenn Charlottes. They are the western most point in Canada, just off the coast of BC, gaurding the outer edge of the San Jaun Strait.
They are a magical, mystical place of ancient rainforest trees and playgrounds for tiny deer, eagles and whales. The haida people have a rich culture living memory is recorded on huge intricate totem poles. It's a sacred place where islands fade into the night, forest floors are covered in mossy carpets and beaches are lined with agate. It has one of the most diverse underwater eco-systems in the world, in an ocean that boils with beauty and rage. Heaven
I live in the prairies or the begining of the foothills which have a beauty of their own. When I need to disappear I take a drive in any direction out of town. The sky here is huge, unending. The colours, especially in the fall are overwhelming from a multihued sky to fields of gold, peace can be found in so many stunning vistas. Take a longer drive and I'm in the Rockies. Truly god's country.
Thanks,
Ceili
0 Replies
Phoenix32890
1
Reply
Sat 4 Oct, 2003 05:17 am
Myakka River State Park- East of Sarasota. Beautiful place, billed as the "old Florida". There are places where I can walk where I do not see a soul, but can often spy an unusual bird. Near the small concession stand, there are picnic tables where I can amuse myself by feeding the squirrels who happen by, begging for a morsel.
I can hike on the trail, and be alone with the world. If I am really adventurous, I will go to the ranger station, and procure a pass to the undeveloped part of the park. Just me, the trees, and the sound of water. Heavenly!
Nice replies, all. Desert Solitaire is fantastic, Diane. I don't go to the desert often, but I love it. Dyslexia -- wow. That's a gorgeous description. I also believe that some places have ancient memories.
I live in Puget Sound where there's a lot of traffic and bustle but also some peaceful beaches where you can get away and listen to (mostly) the sound of waves and wind. One beach that I've come to love is the west side of the Tacoma Narrows. It is a ten-minute drive from my house down the long, narrow road that leads from the cliffs to the bottom of the hill to the county access. I take my two chow dogs who are ecstatic to be there and a chance to run on wet sand. The wind flows pretty fast through the narrows and the water is in a constant flow north or south. The traffic on the Narrows Bridge itself is so high up that it doesn't bother me at all... the cars are like ants running along a blade of grass. Sometimes a train on the far side will blow its whistle which seems to increase the loneliness of the moment, because for some reason hardly anybody else goes here and the ones who do rarely venture past the parking lot. There's more than a mile of beach to walk and it is separated from the rest of everything else by tall cliffs.
I think almost anyone can get away from it all every single morning by waking a lot earlier than they're used to. It is a different world at 4am: cooler, darker, quieter.
nature can be noisy. and at just the wrong moment.
Stumble It!
Tweet This
Bookmark on Delicious
Share on Facebook
Share on MySpace