Sometimes its all just noise

 Today, in Israel, we had quite a long day. We drove over to western Israel, the coastal plain. Tel Megiddo, a city that was destroyed and rebuilt many times in the ancient world, now lying desolate in ruin. We then drove towards the great sea (Mediterranean), saw various sites and ruins of once splendid palaces, ancient cities and culture centers, now nothing more remains of their ancient glory than a few rocks stacked on top of each other.

The sea was beautiful. The scent of the ocean wind, the sun reflecting on the waves, the razor blues of the water. I stood on the shore in the tide, and my footprints disappeared in the sand.

The trip back was long. I could feel the tidal force welling up in me, desperate. I felt like I was dying of thirst.

When I got back, the first thing I did was throw off my things I had carried around all day in my room. I went upstairs, to a quiet, dim little room. No one around, no music, no sights, no sounds. I sunk down against the wall, and started weeping. This dusty, dry soul drank deeply of the silence that it had starved of for so many hours. Finally, finally, I could once again hear the voice that gives me life, stillness, silence, the voice of whispers and promises.

Sometimes, it is all just... noise.