As I've gotten older, I've found myself enjoying quiet more and more. Regardless of if I am alone or if I am with others, there is something charming about listening to the world speak to you. Often I will go outside alone and just stand there in a field or just outside my house, watching the clouds pass by. When you stop to savor a moment you find a lot of flavor that may have gone unnoticed before. When I was younger I didn't care for such things; though I thought the world to be beautiful, I only saw the world for what I thought it should be or could be and not what it actually was.

The clouds were wonderful today; their subtle reds clashed with the ethereal blue sky quite pleasantly. Some of the sky was darkened with rain, the wind was just right. The calm rush I felt as it blew past filled me with glee. I could've stood there for hours, even long after the sun set. I went to eat at a restaurant on Lake Pleasant. Even then I was still looking out of the glass into the world. It was a cool night, perhaps even chilly when the wind was blowing more strongly. Such experiences are not uncommon if you seek them out.

My eyesight is quite poor. I worry often that due to my poor eyesight, substandard even with glasses, that I can never experience the world as well as I once had. My other senses seem to be dulling too: my touch no longer as refined, my taste writhing, and my hearing slipping with my habits. Needless to say, my smell is also not as good as I think it once was, though I cannot be certain of the state of the past. As I age, my body feels worse and worse. The pain dulls my experience. Despite this, when I feel the wind blowing through my hair I feel born anew. I don't know if it is a learned care for the beauty of the world or something more primitive deep within me calling out to the earth in kind as it calls out to me. I suppose the difference doesn't matter.

By no means am I a person one would describe as attuned with nature; I spend most of my hours in my basement, far from the sunlight. Regardless, when I am blessed with quiet—whether it be a sort of loud quiet or a sort of soft quiet—I find myself enjoying it immensely. I suppose it is the scale of it that ensnares me so; my meekness in the face of the clouds swirling so far above and the ever-present winds resolve all my problems and leave me breathless. I hope to find another who enjoys the quiet as much as I and would enjoy to relish it with me. When I look deeper, into the motions of molecules dancing around and the buzz of electrons it only becomes prettier. Alas, this is not a post about my chemical fascinations or the enriched beauty of life through the lense of science.

I hope to enjoy the quiet for many moons longer and when I expire I hope to become part of it.

P.S.
You should enjoy the clouds with me.