Two Birds. Three Stones.

My dog Zeke and I walked on the beach earlier this evening. I found three heart shaped rocks for the collection in my front yard. Zeke befriended two young boys who couldn't get over the fact that he would eat dog treats right out of their hands, and a man who ruffled his fur and got his whole body wagging. The air was the perfect temperature, one of those days when you're comfortable with or without a sweatshirt. Everyone we met was smiling.

As we walked I wrote a song. I haven't written a song in over twenty years, but today I wrote one while walking the dog. It's about silence. I've been thinking a lot about silence lately, how restful and healing it is. And how it seems to be in short supply in our busy, noisy world. Last October I was in the Sierras snow shoeing with a group of friends. When no one was talking, the silence felt like a soft down blanket. I was with five women, so not talking was a challenge, but I made everyone sit down and be quiet for 10 minutes. I think I actually felt my ears relax in that total quiet. I could have curled up in that down blanket for hours.

But I digress. Today I took a walk on a beautiful stretch of beach and wrote a song about silence. Things like that happen on long walks, especially when your companion is better at chasing birds than conversing. You spot heart shaped stones among the "I Spy" arrangement of rocks and sticks on the beach. And if you listen, you just might find you have a song in your heart.