Lark Magic

I go up the hill, where the larks nest in the long grasses, and soar to near invisibility in the sky, raining music down upon us. It does not matter how tired I am, or how melancholy. It does not matter what has hurt me, or how deeply. It does not matter if I am mired in anger or frustration. The lark song rains down benevolently from the sky, and everything is easier.

Water sounds affect me too – the rush and babble of a stream, the rhythm of waves, the patter of rain. Blackbird song enchants me. The cry of a hunting bird sends a thrill through my body.

Sound affects us all. It has the power to touch us emotionally, to inspire. Other sounds have their own effects. The roar of traffic. The sounds of sirens and alarms. The hums of technology. Music, and television bubble us in their own synthetic soundscapes. It’s worth thinking about how what we hear impacts on our bodies and souls.

Lark song is pure magic, as far as I am concerned. Endless traffic noise wears me down. What if we thought about the sounds in our lives as spells being cast upon us, designed to change how we feel and who we are? Which ones would we embrace, and which would we see as ‘bad magic’ and try to protect ourselves from?

About Nimue Brown

Druid, author, dreamer, folk enthusiast, parent, wife to the most amazing artist -Tom Brown. Drinker of coffee, maker of puddings. Exploring life as a Pagan, seeking good and meaningful ways to be, struggling with mental health issues and worried about many things. View all posts by Nimue Brown

14 responses to “Lark Magic

  • Denise

    I’ve occasionally wondered how much road rage is influenced by the choice of music and the volume many drivers seem to consider necessary. It might just be a symptom but I wonder…

  • Christopher Blackwell

    Which sounds are good for us, and which are bad for us is probably very individual. Myself I like a great deal of quiet much of the time. One of the reasons that I live out in the desert.

    • Nimue Brown

      I imagine that the soundscape of the desert is subtle.

      • Christopher Blackwell

        Depends on the time of year. The birds get noisy enough at mating time. In fact I have compared my feeding area, The Seed Vulture Cafe to a singles bar during the matting season with all the same games, guys to to impress females, occasional fights breaking out, females ignoring some males, having to leave to get away, giving the I am not that type of girl message, while looking around for a better match.

        There are other occasional sounds, like the Coyote, but many animals don’t seem to make much noise. There is the sound of wind, often strong wind, and rain, thunder, sometime hail, water briefly running over the ground and then disappearing completely.

        We have an abandoned house not far away, and it has an abandoned wind mill no longer connected to anything, and not taken care of. So it moans, screeches under certain conditions, and then operates fairly quiet for awhile.

        Then there is the sound of an occasional car, big truck and trailer rig and then pickups and occasional motorcycle. Occasionally we have military helicopters information, also on private helicopter and a variety of small planes.

        Add dogs, a few horses and occasional people. I have not seen cattle for awhile. But they are mostly quiet.

      • Nimue Brown

        That’s incredibly evocative, thank you!

      • Christopher Blackwell

        I pay attention to my friends who are part of my land. The seventeen pounds of bird seed, I refer to as rent.

  • contemplativeinquiry

    I always feel lifted by the larks on Selsley Hill (if that’s the one) too. Natural magic, as you say.

  • Sheila North

    For me it tends to be blackbird magic, though sadly I sometimes ignore it, probably to my cost. I need to get out in the green more!

  • lornasmithers

    I love lark song too. So uplifting 🙂 I’d embrace the lark and thrush and flee the chain saws and car alarms.

  • ReD

    This post reminds me of an article I read a few years ago that really kept me awake at night. I can’t find the original source, but the gist of the article was this: the places in the world where man-made noise doesn’t exist is dwindling.

    I remember reading how some national parks where trying to prevent planes from flying overhead. Even recently, while having a celebratory bonfire, I remember feeling an irk of irritation I could’t explain when someone said, “Don’t you have any music?” like the sounds of the forest at night wasn’t music enough.

    Don’t get me wrong: I love music, and without the hum of daily traffic I wouldn’t be able to make my morning commute or have my mail delivered or have a family member rushed to the hospital. They’re not bad in and of themselves. But I hadn’t really considered how they’re affecting me spiritually, only mentally.

    Very interesting piece–thanks for sharing!

    • Nimue Brown

      And if driving wasn’t so popular, of course it would be more of a pleasure, and safer, and those emergency journeys would be faster… How long does the average driver spend sat in queues, in the noise, breathing the pollution…? And the difference between the hum of a small amount of traffic on the move, and the sounds of speeding and braking. 🙂

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