It occurred to me today, as I looked out into the body of water known as the Harpswell Sound, that there was really not much sound at all. There are days when the sun shines brightly and this place can be cheery and filled with life, but today was not one of those days. On these particularly gray days, everything seems to come to a standstill. Animals hide or sleep. The fish aren't jumping. Even the waterbirds are missing. Everything is silent, waiting. On a day like this, if you were to silently slip out in a drifting boat, you had better be prepared for the silence. It's a strange kind of silence, unnerving really. There is no hiding here for you, no gadgets to command your attention, no television to lull you, nothing but you.
And just as you become accustomed to the lack of sound in your environment, your mind comes alive with all manner of sounds. Every thought you have will be magnified. Every forgotten dream will slip out of its prison and ask you tearfully why you abandoned it. Every wrong action you have ever done will replay in your mind on a day like this. Every broken heart you have suffered, every humiliation, will silently envelop your mind. Every fear you have will throw off its chains and march front and center. This cacophony of sounds will whirl around in your brain, and it's no wonder that some sailors have gone mad at sea. On a day like this when the sun doesn't shine and seems lost forever, when the mists swirl in and out, you had better be prepared to meet yourself. It is not for the faint of heart. You have been warned.