I often sit alone in a crowd. I place myself somewhere in a remote section of the venue I’m in at the moment…and just listen. Then I close my eyes and listen. There are hundreds of sounds and words swirling about me. Some interesting conversations and some you wish you could “unhear”. Some sounds so elegant to the soul. Other sounds so hellish to the soul.
I think of what life would sound like if I was a tribal member of the Amazon Forest or some remote jungle island. Less disturbing, I think. There I could dwell quietly alone with the trees, animals, the wind and flowing waters to sing to me. Oh, what a different world my life would be.
But now I must deal with the sounds of the irritated morass. I must accept that since I am not a hermit the sounds of my reality with which I must contend. I can actually come to appreciate some as rhythmic delight or natural purring of city streets. Those that I cannot… I’m learning to filter and not get irritated. That’s the hard one for me.
Alone in the crowd is not bad if you learn to filter the sounds and make them your own symphony. Namaste, The Queen Cronista
