It’s quiet as I munch on my muesli

I listened recently to Thomas Moore talking about the eloquence of silence. I hadn’t gone looking for him, but the Youtube algorithm threw up the link and the title appealed. The podcast starts with a lot of talk by the host, but when Moore finally settles in, one of the first observations he makes is that what we call silence doesn’t mean no sound.

The world is always chattering away.

By talking about silence, Moore is nodding towards a willingness to let our own activity fall away, if only for a moment. To let ourselves be empty, the better to dwell in the world in which we live.

I think of that here, when I go out onto the deck for breakfast. I have been sitting down to the same breakfast for perhaps two years now: muesli with an extra handful of nuts, soaked overnight, chopped apple, yoghurt.

I’ve been expecting I’ll get bored with my breakfast, but no - each morning, I’m interested in how these few elements fit together. It’s always a distinct experience, and I like to make the most of it by mixing the elements into each spoonful as I go.

When it’s sunny, I take my breakfast on the veranda, with the birds. Noow that Spring is here, that means most mornings. Like my breakfast, the birdsong has the same old staples - wattle birds, parrots, cockatoos, magpies, the wrens around the garden - but they come together each morning in a particular way.

I don’t listen to identify each bird, but for the whole. A while back, I came to realise that the birdsong was the valley. Throw in the sound of the trees, and the occasional car going past on the road outside, the ‘toot, toot’ of the Vline train 5 kms away at the station, and this is the living valley. I talked about it here, then it popped up as part of my Creek Story.

Now I find I have a daily practice. Breakfast with the birds. It’s a time for not me, a time when I pay attention to the world as it is.

A good way to start a day of being busy in the world.

I recorded that clip above with my phone, so the sound is pretty average. Here’s something a little better, and longer, from my Zoom recorder.

The best way to get it is to be here, on the deck over at the Studio, taking your time. Letting time carry you along. Or on your own veranda.