The Tao of sound

Sitting on a bridge over a lake, greenish water drifts aimlessly below me, unknowingly heading out and beyond, in the way water will.

All is quiet today. Occasional moments of packing from those left behind, and the birds and wildlife take over again – coming home, grateful it has been returned to them again. A goose floats away in front of me, head bobbing back and forth as its little legs paddle like a steamer. And now on land among friends its head pokes down, searching for treasure; mining.

Yesterday this was noise, today it is silence, and always there has been a little bit of the other in each. The Yin-Yang of aural stimulation. The Tao of sound.

I love being at either end of a festival: the anticipation, the celebration, then the dissipation. An entire lifecycle in a weekend.

And a fish swims under me, oblivious to the world of air, another survivor free again from the depth charges laid by paddle strokes and ziplines, dives and waterslides. All is quiet in the water again until the goose splashes to a landing. The Yin-Yang of aural stimulation. The Tao of sound.

And the breeze sifts softly though the greening leaves, brushing by, a hushed breath dancing. And heavy machinery drives by on the country road, steely resonance heaving. The Yin-Yang of aural stimulation. The Tao of sound.