Unplugged/Tuned In

We spent the long weekend utterly unplugged. No iPod, no laptop, no internet to surf. Even my cell phone stayed in the car where it could vibrate all day and I would remain blissfully oblivious to its intrusions. Heaven. Honestly, it felt like heaven. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if I found out that Heaven actually resembled Sea Ranch on a long February weekend with good friends. Check your ear-buds at the door and forget wi-fi. The only way to hear this music is to unplug.

The playlist? Docile waves spill over sand in ceaseless rhythm then pull back with contented sighs. Seagulls state the obvious and small birds titter the morning news. Narrow freshwater rivulets gurgle down the bluffs and leap over the cliffs, laughing. Mighty surf pounds on black rock, crashing and roiling and then rushing back to mount again. Ocean music mesmerizes me. I never tire of listening. Sitting by the sea, eyes open or eyes shut, I am captivated.

Still, something odd happens when I spend a few days on the coast. When we first arrived at Sea Ranch and stepped out of the car, the sounds of the ocean washed over us. The beauty and power of the music almost overwhelmed me. That night I opened the window slightly and listened in the dark until I fell asleep. By the following afternoon, I had to remind myself to hear. In the midst of everything unfolding around me--good conversation, good food, a good book, a bad cold, a crummy hand of cards--the music faded into background noise that scarcely pierced my consciousness. Waves continued to crash, the ocean had neither moved nor shut down for the night. While my attention wandered,  the music remained constant. But unless I deliberately tuned in to the sounds of the sea, they became mute to me.

I notice the same tendency in myself when it comes to tuning into the eternal in day to day life. When I live mindfully--choose gratitude, look for the good, open my heart--a breathtaking song overwhelms me.  My soul knows the music and recognizes the voice of the Maker. But too often I get absorbed in the immediate, the daily, the hand of cards I hold at any given moment. Life distracts me and I miss Him. His voice becomes mute to me.  My attention may wander, but He remains constant. "Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep." (Psalm 121:4) Amazing what a long weekend at the ocean can do. This week I stop and deliberately listen for the Divine. The music sweeps me up in a dance that I have long known but am learning new. It captivates me, mesmerizes me. Unplugged. Tuned In.