Silence rings true

Went to a "nature preserve" a few miles out of town late last night, seeking a quiet, unpopulated place to just roam around with my thoughts again. Well, I certainly found solitude, near silence, and lots of big trees. I imagined the place would be just as appealing on a rainy day, or perhaps more so, since more of the beauty would be visible to me during the light of day.

Other than the occasional hoot of an owl, and a more frequent guttural droning of a frog ensconsed in some nearby marsh, all was silent. Too quiet, even. It made me start to wonder how many humans still get to hear absolute silence, or how often they even give themselves the opportunity to experience such a thing. The most complete, perfect silence I've ever heard was when I would journey deep into caves or lava tubes, turn off the light, and hold my breath for awhile. Save for the faint calls of woodland wildlife puncturing the silence every few moments, this wasn't far off. As I laid back against the wooden planks of a narrow footbridge and looked up at the starry sky through the narrow opening of the fir tree canopy, I found the silence more unsettling than ever.

It's likely that my discomfort with the silence, and perhaps even the pitch darkness to a lesser degree, merely reflects the inner turmoil that has been weighing upon my soul. Yet, I'm certain that if I went out and tried to enjoy myself in a crowded park in the middle of the day with the blinding sun sneering at me, my blood would begin to boil, and I would find that situation infinitely more uncomfortable, likely intolerable. When I'm feeling alone and in the dark, it feels much more apropos to be alone in the dark.

It's much too different. I'm accustomed to hearing the wind constantly whisper through the trees, becoming more of a low roar whenever a stronger gust stirs the branches. Feeling the wind swirl about, animating the grass and foliage all around me, displacing harsh, cold silence with the sweet, pleasing ambience of atmospheric motion. I'm used to crickets in the brush and their pleasant symphony of background noise. And the ocean that roars, tumbles, and crashes against the shore; again, a body in constant motion, ensuring against any possible sense of stagnation until the end of time. Then I think of the coqui frogs, widely loathed for their high-pitched, continuous nocturnal chirping by those who lack the ability or willingness to live in harmony with nature, but cherished and adored by myself. Their call is simply the sound of returning home to my ears.

It's no wonder then that my spirit continues to feel as displaced as it does, and no one is ever going to fully understand that as well as myself. It feels like there is simply too much missing, too much necessary nourishment for my soul is absent from the landscape. My rational side still finds that difficult to justify, but what I feel deep inside rings true. I need the island to really be at home and at peace.



I suppose this begs the question, "what are we going to do about it?" Well, I don't want to spend the rest of my time here being a frowny, grumpy wolf. As much as I have a natural affinity for the dark side, when it comes to music, art, and the macabre, I don't particularly relish feeling sour most of the time. I'm not ready to jump in a jet and fly straight back to Hawaii, either. There is still much left for us to experience and accomplish here in the great northwest, and jumping the gun like that isn't even a consideration.

When September finally gives summer the boot, and things start mercifully going back to the way they should be after Labor Day, I have reason to believe my overall mood will respond accordingly. I definitely hope so. I would also take great pleasure in getting the hell out of this apartment and into a proper house, allowing us more room, more personal space and privacy, and a more substantial feeling of "homie-ness." Hopefully that will be allowed to happen sometime within the next month. I ordered a good set of weights, as I'm all too eager to get back into the lifting routine. The regular workouts truly help on a physical and mental level, especially in contrast to just laying about most of the day hiding from the disgusting summer weather. I suspect all that idleness and inactivity, which I know has led to a great deal of restlessness, has been a significant cause of depression over the past many weeks.

While I do anticipate progress, setbacks are inevitable, even if most of them are emotional ones. I just happened upon an article today, during the process of writing this, stating that Washington State officials just approved aerial shooting of wolves to protect sheep herds. I almost didn't even want to know that. Leadership is so corrupt and priorities are so fucking backwards in this country for this to even be allowed to happen. Fuck you.

In any case, Shadow's got his surrounding wilderness to escape into, Rjayan has his endless supply of dark music for tormented souls, and I've got my mate and family, and my handy human disguise to help keep from getting shot and killed. We'll make it, even through a reality as fucked up as yours.