Tile-cutter

One of the hazards of living in Phnom Penh is the noise. I remember when I first came here feeling very uninsulated, especially in my flat. The barking of dogs, the hooting of cars, the whirring of alarms, the blasts of loud music, the cries of street sellers, the rumble of traffic, the grinding of tile-cutters... all came pouring through its open vents and drove me nuts on several occasions.

Where I am now is less exposed but still the sounds drift in. Having been in PP a while though, I've learnt to filter them and not get too riled.

That is until I sit down intentionally to be silent. Something I try to do for half an hour most mornings.

The other day was particularly tricky with a tile-cutter grinding gloriously in the flat opposite my window. It would go for a minute or so, stop for a second or so, and then go again. I tried to resist and block it out but it just, very quickly, began to wear me down. And then, I had a thought.......

Instead of resisting it, I could just include it in the silence. And let it do its work. So I did. And as it ground and screeched and ricocheted, I imagined my brain being smoothed and unknotted like a knarly piece of wood and all unnecessary surplus thoughts falling away like splinters.

Afterwards I felt great. And I've thought of that image a lot since. It's proving a very helpful thing. Have been enjoying some wonderful moments of noise non-resistance and the feeling of a more invigorated brain. Oh to have cottoned on to this earlier.