Beauty is usually quiet

The first thing I notice is the complete absence of noise – the jarring, corrosive sounds of everyday life – angry honking, mindless chatter, loud television and radio, a million inane things fighting for your attention noisily, aggressively. Not in the Park. The absence of noise quietens me from the inside, instantly. I look around. Blue sky. Fresh wet earth from last night’s shower. Flitting butterflies in startling colours and patterns, moving restlessly from flower to flower, spoilt for choice. I soak it all in. It’s Sunday morning in Cubbon Park and my weekly ritual is underway: I spend the morning in the Park doing absolutely nothing – I watch the world and in the process, I watch myself. I let my mind simply wander and rest on whatever it chooses and it behaves just like the flitting butterflies moving from thought to thought. I stay uninvolved watching my thoughts just like I’m watching the butterflies. It’s exhilarating, it’s peaceful, and it fills me with joy, for in the Park there’s only beauty and happiness. It’s untouched by the cares of the world, just a non-judgemental dignified bystander and when I’m in the Park I’m a mute spectator too. The Park simply is. And in simply being, it gives everyone whatever they seek from it – solitude, comfort, sunshine, beauty, silence, joy. Though I usually carry my reading or my writing to the Park, I rarely do either. There’s something to be said for doing absolutely nothing and doing it outdoors – in sunshine and amidst flowers. Sometimes, I walk in the Park – long winding walks to nowhere with only sudden crimsons, oranges, whites, purples and pinks for company as they spring on me from amidst thick greenery making me catch my breath at their beauty. I look forward to this morning of quiet and solitude each week; I feel scrubbed and washed after half a day in the Park. Now, I’m refreshed, rejuvenated, peaceful and ready to face the grind of the week.