crackling brook

UBC March retreat 2018A SoundScape meditationListening, Listening, Hearing.The Nitobe gardens on UBC grounds had opened after a long rainy winter season, it was mid-afternoon, a little sunshine was peaking thru the trees, a minor dampness hung around. The trees were still weeks away from growing new leaves, producing an eerie grey feeling to the property. The Space was still enjoyed by a few people slowly walking the paths that zigged zagged in and out of areas of interest. One such man was calmly walking the circular path that hugs the outline of the garden. Each step produced a crunch from the gravel underfoot. This noise was dependent upon the speed and pressure applied to the movement. A faster movement resulted in a louder noise that lasted for only a short period. A slower movement left a low dampened, but longer lasting crunch. A more pleasing result. This slow noise allowed the brain to focus and concentrate on the sounds of the act of moving.With each step, came the familiar, and expected sound, knowing very well, it passes and is replaced with another, which was always slightly different to a degree. For it was impossible to produce the exact sound on these tiny beads of gravel. Even trying to step in the same spot with the same pressure, left him saddened that he would never produce that first one that caught his attention and rewarded him with this insight. After some amusement with his playful new found friends, the man reached the waterfall. The sound assaulted his hearing, one large rushing sound. The closer he got, the more intrigued he got. Something different was happening here, this fluidity of water and sound, seemed familiar. The image of the body came to the man's mind, his own internal circulatory system and the sounds associated with it, how the fluid rushes about, and how it to also creates a soundscape of its own. The waterfall descended several feet and was delayed by many large stones, these stones tamed the wild nature of the water and gravity, here the two elements of water and earth met, both equal forces caught in an eternal battle that never ended. In the center of the flow, there was a large standing stone placed, one can stand on this noble pedestal and reflect on the permanence of the battle. Here the man stood, eyes closed, following his breath for a few moments. When ready, he opened his eyes and looked down at the hundred or so softly rounded small stones, where he saw the sound for what it was. With the hasty nature of the fluid slowed, it still impacted. Each stone generated its own sound with the water, the vibrations from the fluid hitting the stones generated minute amounts of sounds, these combined into one large sound. Reaching down, he ever so slightly turned a smoothed stone and listened, the soundscape had changed. The observation dynamics to the man were powerful. His world, his reality was a sandbox, the enmeshment of the senses to the elements, a loving, caring relationship right there all along.Hearing, Hearing, Heard