I live on the 33rd floor. One of the surprises when I moved in was the cooling wind that whips through the apartment in proportion to the space given by opening the sliding glass doors. With time and experience, I have come to realize that the winds bring a regular range of sounds that have come to shape my quiet times of reflection.
In the early morning, the winds usually speak of quietness. You feel the sounds more than you hear them. While there is the occasional loud car or motorcycle, the dominating sound is a gentle tropical moistness that soothes and comforts. As one looks north, one feels the tropical fog that hugs the trees tops in the botanical gardens and the three reservoirs know as MacRitchie, Lower and Upper Pierce. I find myself stilled as the morning winds play with my hair. There is some eternal, unending, and powerful in this type of silence.
In the late evening, one finds mixed sounds of the city trying to sleep with those determined to get every last bit of energy out the day. The morning’s softness is replaced by something dry, harsh, and a bit tired. The winds carry an invitation to let go. Stirred into this is the stretch of Alexandra Road that lies below. It is an ideal spot for everyone to flush whatever carbon remains in the engines of the vehicle of choice. The rap of a Maserati, sounding like it is breaking a new record as it barely reaches the speed limit, competes with Ferraris, Lambos, Ducatis, and Harleys. Some may find it annoying. I love the images it creates and leaves in my mind.
If I shut my eyes and remember the middle of the day, I am caught in the sounds of people engaged in living. Everything from music, people talking, and the dance of a Lion in celebration or morning. It is fun to listen and imagine.
David was right. To those around me, keep it up. “Good people, cheer God! Right-living people sound best when praising.” (Psalm 33.1)