small things #70 ... noises
I recently read The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Phillip Sendker and I don't think my ears will ever be the same.
Besides being a powerful love story and an epic tale of loyalty, Sendker vividly paints for us the lives of his characters with beautiful storytelling using all of our senses, but speaking boldly to our ears.
As his main character, Tin Win, is struck deaf at a young age, he learns to discover his world again through the use of his hands and feet, but mainly his ears. And Sendker leads us on a journey of discovering our own world again in the sounds that our ears capture in our own lives.
In the midst of this novel, I found myself pausing and hearing my morning and afternoons with fresh ears. And marveling at the abundance of squeaks, taps and ticks in my own little world.
I decided to sit quietly for ten minutes and take note of what I heard.
... the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock overhead; marking time,
... the clicking of Gimli's nails on the tile and the jingle-jangle of the tags on his collar,
... crickets chirruping in the warm air; rhythmic and repetitive,
... a large truck rumbling by on the parkway; maybe in need of a muffler,
... a steady stream of cars driving by; a bubbling stream of traffic,
... the sliding of gears and chimes as the clock prepares to mark the hour,
... two bells as the clock strikes two o'clock; bing-bong, bing-bong,
... the tick and click of the couch as I lean back and prop up my feet on the ottoman,
... the bump and bang from Rosie, the fluffy white dog, on the neighbors back deck; nosing around for crumbs,
... hisssssing from the dishwasher as water runs, accompanied by the quiet grumble of the motor,
... tweets and warbles from an unseen sparrow,
... the tick and bong-bong of our second clock chiming an new hour,
... faint murmurs from the swamp cooler; crisp air blowing down the stairs,
... the whine and click-clack of the Rosie dog slipping through the doggy door,
... another loud engine revving on the road; an oversized truck or an oversized motor,
... low and distant roar of a jet overhead,
... the chip-cheep-chirp of birds chatting outside,
... the faint yip-yapping of a dog somewhere in the neighborhood.
Apparently silence is not silent.
Of course, this two o'clock hour is missing the rumble and tumble of my kids, the slamming and bamming of doors and the "Hey" and "Hi" choruses of many voices. This time of the day is without the whining and "that's mine-ing", the raucous giggles and noisy wiggles and the thumps and bumps of cartwheels and missed stairs. And as much as I love the precious quietness of my afternoons ... I'll be glad for the stomps and whomps of feet and backpacks, the clinks and clanks of snack-time and the steady hubbub that is the heartbeat of our home.
Noises ... the pulsing, pounding, pittering and pattering pandemonium of our lives. Perfect.
#2 - Listen to the sounds of your house ... what do you hear?