Sound

WORD OF THE DAY:  Sound

I walked down Highway 1 ("the one” my California kids say) heading toward Anchor Bay Beach with my word of the day. I was pleased with the day and my challenge.

In this northern California coastal haven, four miles north of Gualala, the preeminent and eternal sound comes from the ocean’s edge ... the waves, the endless pounding surf. The second is intermittent and intrusive — the sound of cars and trucks moving up and down winding coastal road. The third presenting sound was the call of resident birds. There were myriad images that I captured with my camera that morning — the waterfall’s song, excitable dogs charging the waves after balls and sticks, children shouting on the beach. However I kept returning to the first three sounds and their relationship to one another.

What does the raven hear? As I thought about this question it was clear to me that I love hearing the raven's call but take offense at the noise of a car — the unnatural presence that disturbs the “peace” of nature (even though its what gets me to these beautiful places). But my "ah ha" moment was to recognize that to birds that hatch along the road's edge, the sound of the ocean and the sound of the cars are both an integral part of their environment. There can be no judgment — only what is. The key to their kingdom is to learn their relationship to all of the sounds that surround them to survive and thrive. And in relative terms the raven, the cars and the shuffle of my feet on the road are but brief songs in the world of sound. The sound that sings all of us into being is the limitless mother ocean.

More thoughts on sound: If you have never experienced the sound of the ocean can you imagine its sound when you see the photo of an ocean landscape? I discovered that it’s not so easy to capture sound in an image. Without the blur of movement a car could be standing still (therefore no noise), even if tearing around the curve at 80 mph. Perceiving and understanding a photographic image requires that we plug into our memory and experience. Otherwise we have no relationship to it and no clue to what it smells like, sounds like, or feels like. To do so we are required to use our imagination. And as long as we are using our imagination, can you imagine the song of a rock that comes from beyond its stillness? — Gail

Wind

WORD OF THE DAY: Wind.

On this day I see my "word" when I feel its force at my front door. The high winds are up! My normal reaction is to head for a sheltered hike – perhaps Buena Vista Park or some wooded valley in the Presidio. But today I am charged to engage WITH the wind as I head to embrace its wild fullness at Baker Beach.

Walking along the water’s edge on this day of wind and high tide is no child’s play. This requires full presence. I can almost eat the tension as the waves, high and crashing, blow sheets of water in all directions – casting unpredictable thrusts of cold surf onto the narrowing brim of sand. Set on “high speed” the wind whips up mother ocean’s crashing waves, spraying trails of frothy waves to scuttle over the sand into perfect peaks of sea foam egg whites that would make a baker proud. Focused and tracking in all directions, I feel exhilarated and alive. — Gail

Word of the Day: Fragrance

The word for my morning walk — FRAGRANCE — sent me smelling my way through the neighborhood. The ripe opening flower blossom is an obvious target. It surprised me to find how many colorful blossoms wear little if any fragrance. And there were more discoveries. First was to realize that by my interpretation "fragrance" only relates to things that smell good — which disqualified my interesting photo of garbage cans. But it is also a relative and personal word. I love the fragrance of the wet earth and cool mud — others may not. While my neighbor's magnolia tree leaves me delightfully heady on a spring walk it would be as unwelcome sitting next to me on MUNI as a person doused in dime store cologne.

A second discovery is power of memory. Even post blossom and with unripened fruit hanging from the lemon tree's branches, my senses filled with the fragrance of sliced lemon ... the jasmine bush with its emerging tight buds in front of the house induced the imagined fragrance of the blossoming vine in the evening hours. —Gail