The Quest for Quiet

In the mornings…

In the early mornings, what you’d expect is quiet.

But this is not the case.

The boardwalk vibrates beneath my feet. An echo that is soon replaced by the footsteps of a morning runner. His pace is loud and steady. In the distance, cars dart past. It seems now more than ever, everyday of the week is rush hour. It is Saturday and the time is 5:30 AM. Rush hour sounds dissipate as we reach the water’s edge.

The shoreline is an ecosystem of such hurried mornings we are so familiar with. The gulls squawk, before they plunge into the lake to retrieve their morning breakfast. Toads croak through the woodlands, and the red wing blackbirds protect their territory with fierce tenacity. Though I'd love to sit and admire their vibrant feathers through the foliage, instead I feel like I am in their way. I am, of course. For we are strange intruders to all these busy creatures. An unwanted noise. We go around their habitat, trying to signal that our presence is not meant to disturb.

We too have come here to find quiet. I fumble with my rickety old tripod. I am trying to catch the magic of the morning light through the lens. Before it vanishes. And yet, with the first click of my camera shutter, the sounds around me disappear and are replaced with shadows and texture I’d never noticed before. It is in this practice, I feel the quiet.

We are not alone. In the distance, there is a gentle splash. Two people submerge themselves in the lake. The sound of their laughter makes me smile. A man walks past us, says good morning, and finds himself a seat on a nearby piece of driftwood. He sips his morning coffee. I think of the runner who ran by us earlier. His shoes thumping against the wooden slats of the boardwalk. Just like creatures, together we make noise in our quest for quiet.

Stay Wild,

Meg