That's what the radio piece was about: how residents of Newton are being driven mad by the constant roar of leafblowers. It was no stretch for me to take a walk in their shoes. Before moving to Maine, I lived in a wonderful house on a postage stamp lot. There were so many days when I stepped out to the back yard, seeking a quiet moment in the garden, only to hear some neighbor's noisy machinery roar into action.
I now live on a pond in the woods. On almost a daily basis, weather permitting, I hop in my kayak for a sometimes vigorous, sometimes lazy paddle. I usually make a ritual of leaving all my cares on shore and go off to seek the stillness. Before too long, my thoughts turn off and "stillness speaks."
That phrase is borrowed from Eckhart Tolle. I'm a big fan. He is all about stillness and being present. He probably would like my stillness practice. But he would also say we need to find stillness wherever we are. That it is a condition we must create within so we do not need to rely on an environmental one, like my pond and woods. (Although the environment helps, and I wish you were here.)
Which leads me back to the folks in Newton. Shutting out the sound of those mechanical tornadoes is not easy, but having a stillness practice might help. My old house was on a commuter street. Late at night, one car per hour might drive by. But starting around 5 am came the delivery trucks, the school buses, and all the workers heading into town. And of course the sirens. At first, it would wake me and keep me awake. But I began to tune in to the silence inside my room. Soon I no longer heard the noise outside.
Like the Newton folks, many people live in situations where stillness is a precious commodity. And Tolle has taught me, "Stillness is where creativity and solutions to problems are found." So, developing a stillness practice is one of the most important gifts you can give yourself.
Thanks for your wisdom, ET. Oh, and ET, I bet you don't even own a leafblower, right?
Copyright 2007 starfishdoc
