If you want to go.. (sharpie post)

So on a rainy day late last fall, I --outfitted for an overnight stay -- started walking east. The sky was a heavy gray gauze, maple leaves the size of dinner plates littered the forest floor.  The ground was a tangle of ferns and logs. Birth, death, decay, renewal -- everything was happening at all at once. In a grandeur, the place felt holy, worthy of awe. And it sounded quiet.
Sort of
It turns out that quiet rarely means silent of all human generated noise. In this case that meant a rainfall symphony -- a tapping on fallen leaves and songbirds need to be heard to attract mates and ensure their survival as species.
Natural quiet would be a catastrophe for the human soul. "If you want to  go to a place that sounds like it did a thousand years ago, stand near a waterfall or some rapids on a river"