1, 2, 3—silence.
I hold the button down for a solid five seconds- finally, reluctantly, the device goes silent—black. The thought that I could hurl this thing over the side of this cliff, eliminating it from my life, sweeps my consciousness & leaves as quick as it came. It does not belong to me, it is not mine to eliminate. No destruction, only creative creation. I will hold onto this technological ally. It can be used for good; can’t it? We might never truly know.
The vehicle crawls beneath the trees to a stop while shadows of nature play on the dirt road. Crows & Hawks circle overhead—1,2,3—powerful, ominous, wise, they taunt me with caws, trying to gain my attention, “Just a little further, almost there!” We are nearing—silence—peace, tranquility.
They are my protection, these spirits—1,2,3—comforting me while the grinding gears of the City—churning in the back of my head…slow, to a dead stop. An unnerving calm takes hold, what is this? Silence—are you there? Is this me? Just me?
Suddenly, a faint heartbeat is the only sound that I focus on. As we push forward, it grows stronger. It is the most comforting sound in existence—you are alive once again! Here you are! Relief—like hearing my mother’s reassuring voice, the memory of my grandmother’s joyous laugh, the sight of my lover smiling in his sleep. The sensation, this sensation—of being completely comfortable in the presence of silence is bringing me, crawling, back to life. Here, to this moment, this place.
Emerald flows proudly in these veins; the energy of this City, My City, is the drug of my choice. Here, in this place, under these trees, I admit to the Universe, that I have a problem. I am an addict, of the City, of its addicting, insatiable chaos. I cannot seem to get enough.
I need it. I need it to function, to sleep, to work, to write—to love. I need the crazy vibrancy of the City like a junkie—right outside of my apartment, on the other side of my wall, on the side of the over-used highway, outside of my door—needing to score. It is a revolting & fascinating urge. I cannot look away.
I need the people, the life, the dirt & glittering green grime that permeate from the skyline. I need the smells of cherry blossoms, vehicle emissions & the continuous wafts of cannabis & caffeine. I need it so badly that it is killing my creativity, dulling my razor sharp senses. Clearly, I need rehabilitation. The Emerald has turned into a green river of sludge that is trudging through my body & seething from my pores. I worry I am contagious to all other artists around me. I need quarantine. I need to be cut off.
I throw myself willingly into an overdose of stars, an abundance of serenity & suddenly I crave purchase-free minerals, vitamins given up freely from the Earth itself, Take: this Earth is ours to share, just give me your presence & adoring, self-reflective—silence—
I sit beneath the forest’s shelter & ask for the Earth to bring me back. Wash me of that which has been clogging the creative consciousness. I ask for patience & for light. Not for purity or cleanliness. I do not ask for impossibilities, only what I know I need for my Soul.
The Sun climbs into the sky & I am bathed with reassurance. You are relieved of your burdens, you will receive only what you need if you simply listen to your internal guides, they will find you if you Listen—
I am wrapped in light and—silence—recharge for hours on end. I overdose on stars, I detox under the leaves blooming on branches high above. I sleep, finally, for the first time in two years, while my heart beats thunder in my chest. I listen intently, dream vividly: of Crows & Hawks & feel my Third Eye awaken with possibilities.
Power, Light, Love…1,2,3—silence.
