sea and silence

It's only being away from the sea I realise how constant and loud its crashing, sighing, breaking is. On a calm winter solstice down in the Scottish borders a few of us did a stint of the Southern Upland Way. It was so different to be deep in the hills and what struck me most was the huge silence, almost loud in its complete absence of sound. Which made me cognisant of the fact that, living yards from the north sea, sound is always there, even with double glazing. Now as I sit at the computer, positioned upstairs by the window so I can flit from screen to sea, I am aware of this background of massive watery heart-beat. I wonder what it does to my own?

Sei-Shonagan, Japanese lady of long ago, had a pillow book. In it she wrote things. Things that pass quickly - spring, summer, fall, winter, a sailing ship, youth...things that are red, startle etc.

So - taking a leaf from the lady of Japan - things that breathe - the sea, my duvet, geyser in Iceland, custard boiling, flower turned to the sun, jelly, ink, the quivering arrow, a song bursting into the cathedral, good poetry, the plants after rain, wood in the sun...