It’s another hot and sunny day in Lanzarote, as I sit on this comfortable chair overlooking the promenade of Playa Blanca. The Fedora hat shades my head enough to be comfortable for the exercise I’m about to do.
I have my trusty notepad and pen on my lap, with a new page open and the time written as a heading. It reads 12:45 pm. For the next fifteen minutes I’m going to close my eyes and listen to all the sounds I can hear around me. I’ll only open my eyes to make a quick note of the sound I’ve identified.
I wonder if I can make a list of twenty? The first and closest sound to me was that of my tinnitus ringing in my ears. I’d not noticed I had it until that moment. It comes and goes when it feels like it and I’ve got used to it.
The Fred Olson ferry sounds it’s loud horns making me jump. It has just arrived back in port. It’s powerful engines change tones as it turns in the bay and reverses towards its bay.
I can hear the onboard public announcement disembarkation messages, first in Spanish, then English, and German next. Other sounds around the huge ferry including voices of the stevedors shouting for the ropes, a forklift truck beeping, the ferry’s metal ramp hitting the concrete ramp, and various vehicles coming driving off.
I can hear the sound of a shop sign squeaking slowly in the gentle breeze. I’ve been hearing that over many years of coming here. It’s not a bothering sound. It’s like the sound of the barber sign in an old cowboy film in an empty town where the wind moves tumbleweed through the streets.
Of course, I nearly missed that. The sound of the waves gently lapping the lava rocks shoreline, settling back to normal after the wake from the ferry’s return. I detect the difference between the noise of the waves over the rocks and the waves hitting the nearby swimmer’s pontoon jetty legs.
I can hear the voices of Spanish speaking people below me on the promenade as they stroll past. My Spanish is not good enough to understand everything, instead picking out words I know. Siempre, todo, diaz, cafe con letche. They must be going for a coffee nearby.
There is a young child talking loudly, not Spanish or English. Sounds germanic, perhaps Dutch. The child is not happy and is not getting his or her way this time. I hear what must be a parent taking control of the child’s demands with what I assume was a stern no.
Somewhere in this complex, somebody is moving furniture. They must be cleaning. These buildings are all linked, so when a table or heavy chair is dragged across the ceramic tiled floors, the sound resonates through to all the other buildings. I think this one must be next door, though she is an old lady so how could she be dragging something that heavy?
A delivery person is coming along the prom because I can hear the sound of bottles clinking on the sacktruck being pulled by a Spanish man whistling something random. “Hola”, he says to someone passing him. I wonder if he’s delivering my cola light to our favourite nearby bar?
A dog barked. Not an uncommon sight here. It’s how you can tell if someone lives here or on holiday. The residents love their little dogs. What a nice place to walk a dog too. I’d be out walking our dog if we had one, and we lived here! A passing seagull yelps a gastly sound that sounds like something from a horror movie. I wonder what he was communicating, not that I’m that bothered anyway. And then there was the sound of a dove cooing. Distinct from the common old flying rats we have in England, known as pigeons.
A sparrow must be nearby. I heard the twittering sound they make. They are a lovely bird and I suspect somewhat smaller on these islands. Perhaps that’s because of the lack of vegetation around here. And then I think, “can I include the sound of the wind as it rushes over the rim of my hat?” My crock falls off my foot. Yep, that made a sound too.
I wonder if I can hear the clouds? Do they even make a noise? Ah I can hear an airplane. Sounds like a prop, so must be one of the Binter Island hoppers. My attention is distracted as I hear the gentle rattle of the patio door blind string bumping against the doorpost. How annoying is that? And then it stopped.
My time is up and I start to count how many sounds I’d logged. It must be more than twenty. It was a peaceful exercise and one I do quite often wherever I am. I don’t know for certain, but I believe it helps heighten my hearing sense for mediumship. Perhaps someone reading these words might like to stop, close their eyes, and listen to what they can hear around them. One thing for sure is someone else’s list would paint a different picture than mine!
