Owl Hoot

As I walked out the Eastern door of the cabin this morning the first thing I heard was Owl. She was hooting in the Southeastern forest.  I found myself, in the silence between her hoots, anticipating her next call. I worked to pay attention to the silence, and heard the Ocean.

My culture invites me to listen to the notes and not the space in between. It asks me to forget that notes without space is not music.

Today, I will be paying attention to times when I am invited to ignore the silences in my day. I will remember that these are the times when listening is happening. Perhaps, then, I will hear the Ocean.