In a former life I was in a very busy, physically active helping profession.  I lived in a lovely old farmhouse on part of what used to be a working farm…..in fact the old barn just burned down before I moved in.     The road to the farm, probably once a quiet country road,  was now a county trunk highway, and during business hours was quite busy with human commerce.   Most of the time I didn’t mind, because the highway afforded me quick and easy access to my own professional goals.    But at times when I was out on the enclosed porch in the early morning or evening when the birds become most active,  I was aware that I was missing some of their calls when a truck or car would pass just at the wrong moment.  And no matter how hard I tried to listen, I just couldn’t hear. After about eight years and multiple surgeries to keep me active, it seemed the better part of valor was to honor my spinal disease and give up the activity of my profession.    Even though it is still early times, this has led me down a few roads, and I no longer live in that farmhouse.    The house I live in now is much further from the busiest roads  (though they can still be heard if one listens hard).    And it is on the edge of a small wooded area.    I rarely miss a bird call now….and this does delight me on a daily basis. But only recently have I become aware of even how much more I was missing. Perhaps the birds were taking their moment of silence because of an oncoming storm.  But what I was aware of one morning on the verandah, was the sound of the wind in the trees.   So I walked off the verandah to stand under the trees for a moment.    Then I realized that each species of tree was contributing a different tone the overall sound.   The poplars were the high pitched flutes or violins  and would give music with the slightest disturbance of the wind, and the trees with larger, more immobile leaves would enter the symphony as the lower toned instruments when the wind was heavier.    And with the stronger and then softer bursts of wind were crescendo’s and decrescendos in all of their sounds.   It was a veritable symphony which I never even knew I was missing. And this all got me to thinking about noise.   The “noise” in all of our lives that prevents us from being able to hear symphonies that have always been available to us.     And for me, I guess, by “noise”, I mean not only the actual physical noise in which we choose to live, but also the emotional noise.   How often  do we keep ourselves busy, busy, choked with the activities of our families or professions so we just don’t have the ability to hear the crescendo’s  and decrescendo’s going on around us.    How often does someone else’s misfortune or need become an annoyance in busy routine of our lives.   How often do we miss the message behind the criticism  or crabbiness of others (which may not actually have anything to do with us, but with the general unhappiness of the person criticizing or being crabby),  because we just don’t have the ability to hear.     Well, at least for this day, I am grateful for this disease that has slowed me down, forced a shut down of all the activity for the moment.     All of the things I am hearing are just somewhat of a miracle.   Things that were always there, but I just couldn’t hear.