And just because, let’s shift our attention to other things:
The fan whirring, making more noise than air.
The clock ticking, forever ten minutes ahead.
The maids next door chatting; a dog howling; a door swinging.
Scientists say that you have to scour the earth now to find areas without human noise and that these regions are fast disappearing.
Is there any place left for us to get away from ourselves?
And just because I can’t help it:
I would like, for a few moments, to get away from myself.
There’s an elephant on my chest (one I haven’t felt since I was a child)—a massive, tusky thing that often required steam and steroids to drive away.
I’ve long since thrown the paraphernalia out (the steroids always made my heart beat uncomfortably fast) and so now I have to wait for the prickly pachyderm to take its leave.
I don’t know how long it’ll stay. In recent years, it never stayed this long.
Now it grins at me with malevolent eyes. For all my practice with pranayama, it’s all I can do to take one normal breath at a time.
The laborious inhales and exhales add to the horrifying volume of human noise.
This is why we’ll never find true silence anywhere, whatever the scientists say. Wherever we go, we bring the sound of our own breath.
And just because I managed to get that off my chest:
(Not the elephant; how I wish.)
I can shift my attention to other things.