The Long Listening Below

Beneath our feet, anything historical listens. It does not speak in language or representations, in the lower hum of tectonic dishes, in the gradual move of continents, in how roots explore the darkness without eyes. We walk across their skin, never knowing how strong its storage runs. Every wheat of mud has broken from a mountain. Every drop of rain was once element of a hurricane nobody remembers. The World recalls everything — it just does not speak it aloud.

Its style is concealed in silence — the sort of stop that echoes. You are able to experience it once the breeze dies and the trees stand completely still. You are able to hear it in the stillness following mastery, when even birds appear to pause. This silence isn't empty. It's filled with thought, full of age, full of presence. The World isn't quiet since it is asleep. It is quiet because it is hearing — to people, to the sky, to itself.

We are loud. We load the air with engines, sirens, sounds, audio, machines. But nothing of that sound basins to the ground. The Planet concentrates not with ears but with patience. It waits for what comes after our noise — what remains when our houses drop, when our signals fade, once the satellites burn up in the upper sky. And when that time comes, it will still be here — however turning, however blooming in areas untouched, still whispering in ways just the wind and the sources may hear.

We think of Planet as solid, as unmoving, as anything we stay on. But it's significantly more than that. It is a body — living, shifting, breathing with time too gradual for us to see. It doesn't shout, it does not beg. It endures. And in that quiet energy lies an electrical much higher than fireplace or ton: the ability of anything that has nothing to prove. Anything that's previously lasted the delivery of the Planet, the demise of woods, the stop after meteors.

This is simply not only land. It's not just steel and water. It is just a keeper. A cradle. A storage that will not forget. Anywhere deep under, beneath the pressure and stone, it however murmurs the history of how everything began.

Nonetheless it won't ever reveal in words.

We ought to learn how to hear in silence.