Beep, purr, clack
Reflections from my bed
I wrote this one night in late October and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since. Today, feels like the day to share it. Happy snow day from NYC, friends!
It’s 9:22pm and I am laying in bed not sure what to do with myself. Do I finally open In the Cafe of Lost Youth, my favorite seasonal fall read (and perhaps my favorite novel of all time)? Do I begin The New Yorker crossword of the week? Or, do I just close my eyes, roll over, and go to sleep?
My cat is sleeping next to me, purring (I have never heard a cat purr so loudly and at all times in my life). The shuttle train dings, growls, and clacks past my apartment. My window is partially cracked and the cold air from outside blows in from time to time, giving me temporary relief from the furnace that is my bedroom. If I just sat here and named every sound that I hear, I may never finish writing.
Beep, purr, clack, yell, whirl, whoosh, growl, and so on.
Have you ever tried to put a name to the sound of an airplane before? I haven’t. Have you ever just sat and tried to put a name to every sound that you hear? I haven’t. Until now.
It feels like a meditation of sorts. Like counting sheep, only, for New Yorkers. Just lay there, count the sounds, and before you know it, it will be morning (or 3am when you have to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night).
This deep awareness of what is happening around me through sound in this very moment is making me realize how often I walk through the world without it.
Everyday, I put in my headphones, leave my apartment, walk down the hallway, click the up elevator button to go downstairs (because like all good NYC apartments, nothing is quite as it should be), and venture out into Brooklyn. I am either blasting music at full volume (this week, admittedly, 1989 - Taylor’s Version), listening to a podcast or audiobook (probably The Rich Roll Podcast), or walking with silent headphones in just to avoid being harassed on the street. My hyper vigilance taking me out of any pleasure I may experience from the simple sounds of the world around me on my way to work.
How wild is that? How often do you put on your armor just to leave your house? How often do you check out, when life all around you is calling you to check in?
The next time you are laying in bed unable to sleep, or walking down the street hurriedly, instead of letting your mind go in million directions, try to put a name to all of the sounds you hear. See how present it makes you become. What do you notice? How does your body feel? How much deeper does your breath get?
I am getting tired now. I like this.
Until next time, when inspiration strikes again. Stay present, friends. Present moment, wonderful moment.