This is the first morning in a long time it hasn't felt like 100 degrees at 7 a.m. We've been in a heat wave for what feels like eternity, and the thought of sitting outside has felt like the furtherest thing from relaxing.
This morning, I brewed some coffee, opened up our back slider doors and felt cooler air. So right now, I'm cuddled up on a new lounger we just bought for the back deck, sitting in sweats, happy to not be wearing the heat and humidity too.
Coming out here in the morning is one of my favorite ways to start a day. I do some reading, catch up on work and just try to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of this property and the nature around us.
The view from the deck is a special one. Hundreds of trees take on different looks throughout the day as the sun hits the leaves, casting different shadows. In the afternoon, we get Komorebi (木漏れ日), a Japanese word that translates literally to "sunlight leaking through trees."
I take in this view a lot, either on the back deck or sometimes just through the windows throughout the house. It's a special one, and one we comment on often.
But sitting out on the back deck this morning, I feel like I'm seeing more.
There's a woodpecker with a red head tapping along a branch on one of the trees. Squirrels shake the leaves of the high branches as they jump from limb to limb, chasing each other. A cardinal darts its bright red body through the trees, passing quickly by all of this action. And if you truly just sit and listen there is so much more going on, dozens of birds just singing and talking to one another.
None of this is new. This chorus of wildlife plays every morning, but how much of it I notice depends so much on my state of mind.
A close friend has been extremely stressed for months now - work, managing relationships and just trying to get out of the slump they feel themselves in. Over the last month, they've been very intentional about being more present and doing things that put them in a calmer headspace, helping them feel a little lighter as they go into the day.
A few weeks ago this friend told me, "I heard the birds for the first time in a long time."
It's not that the birds had gone away and suddenly returned. Life had just become so busy, and they were so buried in their own thoughts and stresses, they couldn't hear the subtle pleasantries around them.
It made me think about how often I've been outside and haven't heard the birds. I'm consumed by work, thinking about the schedule of my day or distracted by some other life thing that's just making noise in my head.
It's hard to realize you can't hear the birds when you're in it. How do you know you're missing something that you've drowned out?
A few weeks ago, I did my first sound bath. I wanted to try a new form of meditation that would force me to slow down and focus on the intentional noises around me instead of the noise in my head.
It was an experience I'll never forget.
The sounds we're pleasant, yet intense. Starting with a rain stick, then a wave drum, which literally felt like waves crashing over my head, and then moving to the singing bowls. The session was an hour, but by the end, I had no concept of time. I couldn't tell you where my brain went for the last hour, I was present, but my mind was clear of noise. I truly don't think I thought about anything.
I went to a place that allowed me to truly meditate, find calm, and simply listen to the beautiful sound around me. Afterward, I felt lighter, relaxed and exhausted in the best way.
I've now realized I need more intentional listening in my life to balance all the noise of work and life stresses.
Listen to the birds.
Listen to the quiet.
Listen to the leaves rustling in the wind.
Listen to the rain.
Listen to the waves.
Just focus on the sound and nothing else.
There's so much beauty around us, and the chorus of nature is always playing. Maybe the birds aren't any louder on the mornings we finally hear them. Maybe we've just gotten quiet enough to listen.
