Space of sound

Today I was working on some paintings in a different location then my studio. As I was working I was aware that normally I would turn on music while I worked. I always listen to music when I paint. Music or podcasts. That kind of sound, along with the paint, takes me out of an awareness of time or I should say what I call "task time." But today, not being able to listen to music, I was aware of how much music is a way in which I occupy spaces. It, my music, is one of the significant ways I link the various spaces that I occupy during my day, week, life. I try to be purposeful about attending and listening to the spaces I occupy but a some point I fill those spaces with my songs. I have a fair collection of songs. According to my itunes I have 43 days worth of songs (a modest amount compared to some folks I know.) I also own a good collection of CDs and vinyl (and a seriously large box of cassette tapes.) I am a true NPR junky: All Things Considered, Fresh Air, Prairie Home Companion, Speaking of Faith, Off Ramp, etc. If not music, then NPR. It's been 9 days since I heard any of this. I do miss it, but I also am aware of how I use it to fill head space. I never compared audio to visual in terms of cultural crooning. But now that I have lost the audio I find myself settled in ways that are surprising. I have become more attentive to the task I'm on. I don't mean physically attentive I mean mentally attentive. I am so in love with the world of ideas that I am constantly seduced from one subject to another by a sound, a spoken statement or uttered phrase. Now that the world is momentarily blocked from my hearing I find myself a bit more settled. My head doesn't have that internal buzz that it so often does.

I wonder what I will do with that latter?

Just read the short story, The Hermit's Story by Rick Bass. Amazing, please read. Thanks, Andrew