If silence is golden, what color is noise?
Ever wonder about things like that?
A few weeks ago my writing buddy, Big Foot Pam and I took a book signing trip to St Louis. We talked about everything, philosophy being one of those things. BF Pam majored in philosophy which not only explains a lot but is very interesting. She gave me a nutshell version of what a philosophy course entails. I’m not sure whose theory I identify with. Probably a little bit of all of the great philosophers plus a whole lot of my own. It was great fun discussing this with Pam.
Sometimes I do wax philosophical and wonder about the great questions of life. That led me to thinking about what color goes with what. For example, if the days of the week had colors what would Monday be? Tuesday, Wednesday, etc, etc.. If happiness had a color, what would it be? Get the idea?
When lunchtime rolls around at work I often sit in my car and read. Of course nine times out of ten, that leads to a nap. (We cats do love our cat naps.)I need a break from all the office racket: phones ringing, the tap, tap, tap of computer keys, co-workers competing to see who they can interrupt the most, just the everyday rumble and grumble.
We live in a world of constant noise.
The fire station is about two blocks from work. Now, I have no idea what emergency they have everyday at 1:30, but I can set my watch by them. Sirens blaring. Horns blasting. After they race by, it’s time for the freakin’ train! Whistles blowing. Horns shouting. Big engines chug, chug. Then there’s the traffic. Holy smokes! Big 18-wheelers roaring. Two-ton diesels groaning. Cars honking. Oh, and don’t forget the motorcycles. No motorcycle can go quietly into the night. It no better at home. The TV blares advertisements full bore. That oxy-clean commercial makes me what to run and hide in the closet.
I have concluded, therefore, that noise is the color of rowdy, rumpus red.
All the racket is driving this little puddy-cat wild. No wonder the world is so loony. Turn off or at least turn down the TV. Sit under a tree by a lazy stream. Lay in a hammock. Listen to the birds. Hear the breeze dance through the trees. Chill out.
Hmm . . . speaking of the breeze, I wonder what color the wind is?