I walk down the road – this is such a privilege I recognise in these difficult constrained times. It is an unsealed road with bush one side and a few houses every so often on the other. I am alone and the air is fresh and clean. What is striking is the quiet – very few cars and no aircraft. But it is a deeper silence I sense. The world as we have known it is quiet like on Christmas day or Easter. I speak with a friend in NYC who is holed up in her apartment, grateful for running water, electricity and the internet. I concur with this knowing others do not have these basic necessities that at this time are so critical for our health. As I walk I absorb the quiet into myself. It is a comfort. The noise of consumerism has been relentless. We have not been able to hear the suffering of others or of the living world. The fires are a fading scream. The great engine of consumption roars drowning out any cry or plea to listen. Endless distractions pull and tear at us, the marketing forces grab any opportunity to make you feel your life will be less if you don’t comply with this or that demand. The endless marketing of ourselves through social media is a relentless burden but framed as an imperative. The ‘being positive’ heroic stance so wearying when in fact we need to feel what is going on under all the hubris and fantastical fabrication of our lives.
So I breathe in the quiet and listen to the layers of the world around me. The natural world waits patiently for us to attend. Let’s attend now before it is too late.