costa rica, Guayaquil Botanical Garden, Guayaquill Malacon, Howler Monkeys, Jake's Sunday Post Challenge Silence, Lisa Brunetti, Nature, Pencil Drawings, Playa San Miguel Costa Rica, Silence, Solitude
Ah! To bask in silence! A serene setting wraps its loving arms around us and cocoons us in delicious silence! Libraries offer comforting slices of silence, as do museums; parks and botanical gardens provide visual balms for the soul and reconnect us with nature. Silence allows our minds to grow quiet, and our senses awaken.
For Jake’s Sunday Post Challenge of “Silence,” here is an essay that I wrote when I lived “immersed in nature” in Costa Rica. Many days often passed before I ventured into the nearby pueblito; I loved the flora and fauna of that area!
I cherish dawn; I embrace it, or rather it embraces me. Gone is yesterday’s fatigue, and I awaken with renewed faith and trust and hope. My expectations of the day float with eagerness, yet a patient calm grounds me.
Scanning the vista, I smile. Moving only my eyes, I drink in the surroundings. My heart overflows with love for the birds that flit happily from tree to tree. A variable seedeater hangs upside down and breakfasts on minute red seeds. A trogon swoops precariously nearby as if to say, “Good morning to you.”
Mot-Mots, flaunting their iridescent coloring, entertain me as they wag their fly-swatter tails. Masked tityras, with their startling white housecoats, busy themselves further away. Ground cuckoos,sporting Egyptianesque facial markings, prowl the landscape.
This morning the hummingbirds are strangely absent. If I’m lucky, a pair of aracaris will come for a brief visit. I stop and scan the Pacific. A white vessel heads north on the edge of the horizon on a Winslow Homer-colored sea. A riptide near the beach slices the blue with its warning contrast of color.
Far-away howler monkeys roar and croup and announce their claim to the rain forest. Another troop replies with challenging egotism. I listen intently for “my troop” which is silent this morning. A quail answers instead.
Butterflies begin to decorate the lower airspace. Still drowsy from sleep, they move with erratic slowness. From a pasture below, a bull punctuates the growing cacophony as if to say, “Don’t forget about me down here.” I smile, “No. You are an important icon to the Guanacaste landscape.”
Conversation would be an intrusion, and I reflect on the souls that could sit with me in comfortable silence.
Sometimes silence is the best conversation.
This morning my conversation is with God.