Monday, September 15, 2014


The inside of my brain is a noisy place.  Thoughts tumble, roll, jumble, jump, bounce, leap, list and tangle all to a vibrant musical sound track that varies from tent revival to Woodstock and Bach again, all backed up by a blow-by-blow vocal narrator who keeps me up to speed on what's at the top of the lineup.  You don't want to know what's in there during the Sunday sermon.  Waking up to silence is a rare, nay, unheard of, thing.

One of the problems I had during the bad migraine period a few years ago was that I lost my soundtrack.  The music simply disappeared for a time, and worse still, I lost my ability to HEAR music correctly.  The hearing came back, the soundtrack resumed intermittently, but at no time did the thoughts or the narrator ever really quiet down.

The other morning I awoke to silence.  Perfectly peaceful internal quiet.  Echoes of it are still in my head.

Maybe this is normal for everybody else, and you all have no idea what I am talking about.  But I've been trying for days to find a way to put it into words and I really can't, because nothing is really ever naturally silent, is it? 

Here's the best I can do:  After spending the day at Knoeble's amusement park with  laughing kids, popcorn, scolding parents, musical rides, footsteps, peppers and onions, motors, game hucksters, popping corn, cotton candy,  screaming, coaster rattling, splashing, eu de hot dog, crying, flashing lights, colors and endless movement you load everybody into the car and drive off into the dark.  One by one they fall asleep.  The radio is off.  There is no traffic.  And you arrive home, crawl into bed and have that last nanosecond of consciousness before you fall asleep.  THAT silence. 
It was that silent inside my head all day.  I went to the gym.  I rode 4 miles on a bike with no narration, swam 20 laps with no storyline or music, went to work, came home.  I reacted to all around me and did what I always do but in a background of such quiet that by the end of the day it felt almost eerie.

It is still pretty quiet in here.  The music is set on low, the narrator is silent, and the thoughts, generally calm.  I'm not sure if I like it or not. 


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