It's growing weaker, but I still have a very keen sense of hearing. When I was a northerner, I could hear snow falling on the evergreen branches outside the window; often I hear the sprinklers come on in the early morning or the call of the limpkin from a mile away near the lake. On a side note, ask Alice and she'll tell you sometimes I can't hear her from the next room! 🤪
Have you ever noticed how deafening is the silence once the fridge motor turns off; you get so accustomed to hearing the background noise that the lack of sound is at once a surprise and a relief.
There are moments during our afternoon walks when there are no words between my wife and me- simply the peace of the present as we gaze at familiar sights that consistently inspire new appreciation.
So it is when taking time to meditate or at least consciously pausing for mindfulness. There is nothing to do: nothing to clean or fold or scrub or write or post or judge or worry about or prepare for or study or ignore or remember... There is literally nothing--NO THING--to do or be or become or oppose.
I find it fascinating that the word "listen" is found in"silent." If you try it, you'll like it.