I found a post that I linked to several years ago from the New York Times, The Joy of Quiet. Apparently my quest for stillness and mindfulness is not a new a one.
When I linked to it on Facebook, I said this:
When I was young (in the 40s and 50s and even into the 60s) we used to go to Little River Country Club in SW Arkansas. We’d go for the weekend, or for a week. It was an enclave of about 100 cabins with a golf course, and a club house, and the river to swim in, and places to launch boats for fishing. There were a lot of doctors and lawyers who had cabins there, and they were adamant that there could not be a phone on the property. In an emergency, someone could call the general store in the little town 7 miles away and someone would drive out with the message. It was possible to really get away. It was even hard to get a decent radio signal. All that quiet is gone, now, and while the club is still there, I don’t think it’s used as often as it used to be. *sigh*
The photo above is from a trip Big Al and I took the first fall we were here in the Pacific Northwest. We went out to the ocean and spent a whole day on the beach. It was late September and there were few people there. It was pretty cool, and part of the time we spent sitting in the car just looking at the waves, and part of the time we walked along the shore. It was (almost) impossible to get a cell phone signal there, and we were able to have hours at a time, hearing nothing but the susurration of the tide and the calls of the gulls. We haven’t been back, but it’s on my list of intentions to do that again this year.