Sitting in the cockpit in the sunshine on Sunday morning, my partner and I create a worship space and sit in silence. At the Parliament Building a half mile away, a man with a megaphone is blaring something about ‘the will of the people’, his passionate voice blowing to us across the wind. A truck honks, then several more. Along the walkway, the sun has brought people out to enjoy the sunny harbour views. Snippets of conversation rise and fall with laughter, and happy sounds from children racing by. The birds hopping along the shoreline are in full springtime courtship mode. Robins and starlings converse and dart and weave, preparatory to the nest building they are desiring. A siren cries out in the distance. Soft music plays at a brunch cafe up the hill. The noises all begin to soft and blend in my mind as I relax into moment.

And then finally—- I notice a sound that had been buried. It had been there all along but it took time to sort through all the bigger, city noises to get to this quieter place. To allow my ears and heart to open to this smaller noise. But there it is! The sound of wavelets lapping at the hull. Soft gurgling as the sea meets our boat. Random and utterly beautiful, like a soft drum beat, the swish of water played onto a hollow surface. This sound is calling to me. I recognize this immediately and smile at the realization. “Come play! Come play!” the wavelets cry out to my soul.

I sit silently. I hear my heart beat, rhythmic, with the random wave patter as a glorious ornamentation. I know that I will heed the call. Very soon to untie the lines and slide the boat out from this sound scape and into the other noises of the Ocean.

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