Crashing Sounds of Silence

A few miles away from my cottage is a beach. To me it is the most wonderful beach in the world. I never go on holiday, I have no need, for I have my beach.

The vast majority of us don’t have a beach. We have to go away to find a beach. Then it is usually over crowded and the true beach is lost. I don’t have that problem as my beach is a hidden beach, I don’t have a crowded beach, I usually have most of it, if not all of it to myself. Why is my beach so special to me? Well apart from its beauty which is awe inspiring, it is a healing beach, a place where I can get my sanity back. A place where I can put things back into perspective. A place for deep contemplation. And a place where I can find the stillness within.

We all need a place to heal ourselves. A quiet place to draw our thoughts. A place where we can sit back and take a little time out for ourselves. The rat race takes its toll on us. Many of us fall by the way side under the pressure of this modern day and age living.

We are not designed for it. Not so long ago we were living off the land, now we are living on tarmac and concrete. Because we are in the wrong environment we get stressed. We fill our doctor’s surgery waiting rooms and download his prescriptions of Prozac and Valium by the millions. We all need a quiet time. A time to heal ourselves of the wear and tear of today’s pressure of living. For that we need a quiet place. I have my quiet place, I have my beach.

My beach is surrounded by hills. Great cathedral like hills that reach towards the heavens. I once went there at night when the skies were inky black and the stars were bright studs scattered at random for as far as I could see. There was a thin half moon that shone bravely against the dazzle of the exploding stars. It was difficult to tell where the sea ended, and the sky started. Both seemed to be as one. It was as I stood there in awe, listening to the sound of the crashing waves on the giant sandstone pebbles, that I heard it. I heard the sound of silence.