The world is a loud, noisy place. Information and opinions and flashy headlines and ad campaigns are ubiquitous, constantly pounding into our skulls the ideas, messages and agendas of someone else, generally under the guise of being “for the common good”. We must be ever vigilant with our cognitive and emotional resources.
A human life is rife with pressures, whether intrinsic, extrinsic, imagined or very real. We’re a resilient species, but why the persistent layering of weight, warring, woe and worry?
There’s a light rain, on a bracing October morning in the Oceanside region. It’s Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. I chose to stay on the island, rather than trek back to the mainland. There’s an air of strangeness and uncertainty this month that made me feel it wiser to stay put.
Seagulls, other birds and sea lions call across the misty morning waters. Geese enter from the north. Two herons quietly soar by, not too high over the shore. Silent giants.
The clock in the square strikes a happy chime signaling 10am, then curiously shifts to a monotonous, somber bell to count out the hours. Even the clock seems to be disaffected by the persistent agitation that is covid, sighing as it goes through the motions, perhaps emptied of the usual spirit that would fill the space here with communal bustle and hubbub. The fountain nearby splashes meditatively, layering a touch of white noise onto the atmosphere.