Quiet

In the country, it’s easy to get overwhelmed by quiet.

Sure, you hear crickets, cicadas, tree frogs, but you also notice a general hum so deep it’s almost dizzying.

It doesn’t turn off.

You tilt your head to triangulate its origin, to no use. It feels as if your ears are being pulled backwards, stretched, straining, listening from the back of your head. You hear it even where you don’t.

After a while, you start thinking again. 

But not in the regular way, not linear.

Like your ears were stretched in new directions listening, your mind is stretching, hearing its subconscious mumbling. Seemingly random, encompassing almost embarrassing extremes, you are sure it is only showboating; there is no way your stream of consciousness is that obtuse!

It is, and it’s beautiful.

Here, these sparks are your originals, your treasure chest of creative thought. These tingles of innovation, of personal discovery, of reassuring empathy. In between the crickets and cicadas and tree frogs, more than any other thing, they are who you are.

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