John Cage-Like Diorama!

I could have been bitching about the weather yesterday. Windy. Raw. Dark. Rainy. A cold, hard rain. Rain that seemed to pelt me from above and sideways too. A sort of punishing day. Might make you want to ask, "What did I do to deserve this?" It's like that when you are near the lake. It was an uncomfortable day to be out and about. Instead of complaining, wishing for another kind of day, I was doing my best to be present (see previous post).

I was walking with two canine friends on the lakefront. The lake was a big, gray roiling mass of water. It roared and crashed against the rocks. The noise, the sound that the lake made was overwhelming, amazing. CRRAFGGGGYAAASSHHH! Something like that. Something you can't translate. A sound of mayhem that resonated over and over across the park like a phonograph record stuck in the groove. At the same time, I was passing a few large, trees with newly-sprouted leaves, and about 100 or so birds (I think they were Starlings?), were up in the branches singing, chirping, coughing, snickering, chattering, creating an unholy racket, totally vibrating, alive and noisy. A huge collection of crazy-ass birds declaring their existence, making a huge, crashing, dissonant, symphony of birdsong.

It was sort of like being in some weird, life-size, John Cage-like sound diorama, sound waves crashing against each other from every direction. It was pretty brilliant. Captivating. Enveloping. I suppose my furry friends and I were just another element in this amazing, over-loaded, sound-environment. So yeah, it was a hard rain day.  Instead of bitching, I was taking it in. Present. Pretty impressive.