We are in a small coastal town in the Scottish highlands. It is a warm and pleasant day. The sun is out on a blue sky, and the waves are gentle as they approach the shoreline. Small families are scattered on the beach, young kids with their spades and buckets, trying to build sand castles; busily carrying water back and forth.
Behind us, the moorlands stretch as far as the eye can see. We set off on a long walk. There is a roughly formed path-of-sorts. We set off, a few adults and a few children.
The beauty is simply breathtaking. There is blissful, golden silence; a silence so profound that one can actually feel the peace within.
There are merry little bunnies hopping about and a few birds, who are hidden but whose sweet music brings such joy to the listener.
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Dandelion wands beckon to the kids. We walk up one hillock, come down and then climb another. Cheerful little silvery mountain streams give us company, as they make a gentle gurgling sound against the rocks.
The grass is green and lush. Gorse bushes abound, their yellow flowers lighting up the landscape. Then again, there are these absolutely tiny flowers in mauve and white, making one marvel at the sheer beauty of it all.
Not a word escapes our lips. For once, we are so overwhelmed that even the kids have nothing to say.
The breeze whips around us, perfectly gentle and cooling. When we reach the point where we want to turn back, we sit down to soak it all in.
We close our eyes, and it feels like we are in deep meditation. So much calm and peace. The real world drops away; for this moment nothing but ‘this exists’, this beautiful silence.
I can well imagine Wordsworth penning the lines of his famous poem The Solitary Reaper, after walking through these highlands.
We head back trying to carry the silence and the peace with us.