This may be a title song by Simon and Garfunkel, but to me it is my writing Mantra. 

I’m a morning person. “Early to bed and early to rise,” that’s me. All I do, and all I think is done in the early hours of the day. Once dusk sets in, like kryptonite, my powers dwindle. So, whatever I write must be done during the dawn’s early light. 

My day starts with coffee, nothing can get done without a cup of joe next to me. Once the dogs are out and they have  had their morning treats it’s computer time. That’s my routine. 

My desk is a table that faces the window to my backyard. So picture it, my computer on the table, Java to my right and Toby on his  pillow under the table. Take a deep breath and so it starts.

I look out the window and there is this  gigantic tree whose branches lean toward me. It’s Spring now so the tree is filled with new life. Large green leaves fill the once barren limbs and a soft wind ruffles them softly. These are the  beginning of a musical composition that sets the stage and allows  the creative juices to flow. The tree is the central theme; The beginning of a harmonious melody called Nature. Its response to the wind and to its inhabitants forms the melody of quietude that surrounds me. It is life at  its best. 

Sometimes a squirrel will scurry up the tree and hide in its newborn leaves.  Its graceful entrance simulates the entrance of percussion temporarily interrupting the  soft melodic interlude. Undeterred by his intrusion he pauses, looks around and then dashes further up the tree and vanishes. 

When Spring rain hits the window pane and crescendos from a pitter patter to a downpour and then to a dolce drip it elevates me. Its drops dance a tune on my deck, pit, pat, pit, pat, tap, tap, tap, tap, and shshshsh….. tatatata. From pianissimo to mezzo and then mezzo forte the raindrops play, leaves swirl and branches sway, All adding a mixture of harmonious movement.

On sunny days, large bees zoom in and around the tree. I took a picture of one and studied it closely. I zoomed in, and I thought it could have been the model for the Hindenburg or other such blimps. I step out onto the deck for a moment and I can feel the heat of the sun on my face, a sense of peace, beauty and feeling free.The Dogs prance happily around the yard, spreading joy such  a serene moment. Margo the chihuahua moves with the sun, she’s the violin with no limits save the intensity of its rays. Sunbathing is her passion. Patrick, the Irish Setter, frolics around the yard and like a fanfare of trumpets happily barks at nature. The old man, Toby, my Jack Russle I see as a tuba. He roams slowly and aimlessly, sniffing here and there. He is the oompah, oompah, oom pah pah of my musical arrangement.  

Once a solitary crow parked on the wooden border of my deck. I stared at him and he stared back at me, both of us frozen, eyes locked  in the glance. I studied it for a while wondering if it was a crow or a raven. I remember reading that crows are rarely alone. Taking a brief intermission from my harmonious trance I chose to research both.  I read about the difference in their size, and about the curvature of a raven’s beak. I browsed through many pictures showing the formation of their tails.  I became excited by the idea of knowing. In the end I could never deduce which was which but since we had a large population of crows in the area I deduced that it must  indeed be a crow. I still have pictures of both but making comparisons to the real thing was difficult. In the back of my mind I fancied it was a raven bringing me a message from beyond, kind of like a Poe thing. Anyway, As the corvus flew away, I awakened from its trance and returned to my communion with “The sounds of Silence.” 

Birds often visit me, they perch for a bit and then fly off. I’m not privy to their names since I only admire their colors and have never inquired as to their species. I think that adding color to my vision and seeing their graceful flutter as they fly off is magical. Once I saw what I think was a robin, another time a blue bird. I thought of that childhood game “Bluebird, bluebird through my window.” I traverse between the past and the now, causing me to reminisce about a time in my childhood where I felt the same peacefulness and awe I do each day that I sit and write. The solitude and stillness of the early morning feels so new each time I join it.

Me, I stare out and take in the moment of quietude. Then, I look through my work for the beginning of a new piece or a continuation of a work in progress.  I sit there, taking in the outside action and absorbing the musical arrangement for the day. That is my morning ritual. I breathe in deeply, taking it all in and allowing the ideas to flow. It’s like a concert that has no real sound, just a cadence that is today, a prelude to Summer. My time to escape into the world of writing. My time to create visions in my mind. My time to dream and construct my ideas into a piece of writing that complements the symphony that is nature’s essence. 

So, you ask how do sounds inspire my writing life? It’s not the melody, but the harmony of the soundless conducting of mother earth that influences my thoughts and motivates my writing. It makes me happy and most importantly not judgemental of my work. I simply rejoice in being able to put pen to paper.

Leave a Reply