05/11/2026
I find it an interesting bit of self observation that at one time I found the sounds of the city to be exhilarating. When I was living in San Francisco I imagined the noise - sirens, music, yelling, cars honking, construction noise, all of it - to be like the voice of the city and I loved it. But after moving to Seattle, and initially imagining the noise of the street just as exhilarating as I had in SF, I began to tire of it after several years. Perhaps it was my apartment’s proximity to a fire station and its sirens wailing every 20-30 minutes or the medivac helicopters buzzing so low overhead before landing at Harborview Hospital, or perhaps the anguished cries and screams of those being chased by their own internal demons. There’s no fault to be found in Seattle or SF or any other city for that matter. They are a pressure cooker of urban living and while there’s all that noise, great creativity is also found to be squeezing out from the edges like grilled cheese. But experiencing the quiet of the earth with only its own creatures occasionally interrupting the silence is a gift. Sitting in solitude as the sun sets over crimson mountains far away, and to melt into the vast Pacific Ocean is a gift. There’s much we can be annoyed by, angry with, dispirited of, in these times. I have to forever remind myself that while much of it matters, it doesn’t matter all that much. Enjoy the sunset…