The loudest sounds happen in the quietest places.  Mostly I hear my heartbeat, regularly thumping with a rhythm of its own.  It echoes in my ears as I climb the hill.  It is beautiful here, always.  My thoughts are loud in my mind, as usual I am comfortable with them rattling around my brain.  It is different thinking when walking, I move to a meditative state along these familiar roads, trees and views.  They give me the space to hear myself.  I mustn’t get too insular though, I don’t want to miss the crash of the waves as I reach the top of the hill.  I hope there is no one around, for this is my favourite place to be, and I would rather not share it.  Down at the shore I am letting the noise of the waves wash through my head, listening to the gulls calling,  the clouds are running by and the wind is whipping up.  There is a peace in this place, for here I can hear my ancestors, also on this beach, perhaps also thinking thoughts.  For nothing is new, all my troubles have  been dealt with by those gone before.  There is a peace to that, and to the silence of the noise of the sea.