Attend a dance club, concert, or a performing art event.
Where: at a closed restaurant on a mountain top.
Who: X, my son, me, and others.
When: Noon today.
Hush! Can you hear? A water fall many kilometres away. The soft wind through the pine trees. A car or two, perhaps a truck down in the valley. A bird. Nothing.
Can you hear the sound of the mountains, son?
Can you hear their vastness?
This is what I want to teach my son. I want him to able to stand in awe at nature. I want to show him that you don’t need loud noises to be moved, you don’t need fire works and champagne and glitz. And you really don’t need iPads or laptops or games or instant feedback. You just need silence and vastness.
Minutes should have passed while we were standing there in awe. In reality, seconds passed before a new sound came from behind us.
Last Easter, they had 600 people here!
It was X.
600 people! They could hear the party on the other side of the mountain!
My son turned around.
The band played so loud, the entire restaurant was shaking! Can you imagine!
I turned around.
And this Easter, the party will be even bigger!
My son smiled and went over X. They went out to where the band must have played, they waved with their hands and danced around and sang as loud as they could into the valley.
Can you hear? The band? The latest hit from some obscure band?
I stood there for a few minutes, listening to people dancing, drinking and having a good time. Then I turned around, and stared into the vastness again.