台風が過ぎ去った翌朝、窓を開けた瞬間に感じた空気は、真夏のそれではなかった。澄み渡る青空に差し込む朝日は強い光を放っていたが、その香りはどこか秋を思わせるものだった。八月の焦げるような暑さとは違い、空気の奥にほんのりとした柔らかさが漂っている。季節の移ろいは、温度計よりも先に、こうした匂いや肌触りで気づかされるのかもしれない。
太陽が南中するころには気温もぐんぐん上がり、夏のような暑さが戻ってきた。それでも八月の太陽に焼かれるような灼熱ではなく、どこか落ち着いた熱気だった。秋に近づいたのか、あるいはもう秋の入り口に立っているのか。そんな思いが頭をよぎる。確かに暦は進んでいて、空の色や風の感触も少しずつ変わっているのだ。
夕方からジムに向かい、混雑するプールに身を沈めた。週末だからだろう、普段は見かけない人たちで賑わっている。水の上は列ができていて、少し待ちながらのスタート。それでもいったん水に身を投じれば、そこは自分だけの世界だ。人の気配もざわめきも、すべてが水に吸い込まれて、耳に届くのは水音と自分の呼吸だけ。
泳ぎながら、朝に感じた秋の香りをふと思い出した。あの澄んだ空気と、今この水に抱かれる感覚が、どこかでつながっているように思えた。どちらも外の喧騒から切り離された、純粋な時間。季節の移ろいを感じるのも、水の中で心を静めるのも、同じように自分を見つめ直すきっかけをくれる。
ジムを出て夜風にあたると、昼間の暑さが嘘のように和らいでいた。少しひんやりとした空気が火照った体を包み込み、再び秋の気配を感じさせる。ほんの数日前までエアコンなしでは過ごせなかった夜が、今は自然の風だけで心地よい。
台風がもたらした一時の変化は、空や風だけでなく、自分自身の感覚にも新しい視点を与えてくれる。雨上がりの空に漂う秋の香り、水の中での孤独な時間、そして夜に吹く涼しい風。そのひとつひとつが、季節の移ろいと向き合うための小さなヒントのように思えた。
日常は忙しく流れていくけれど、こうした瞬間に足を止めて、空気の匂いや水の感触に耳を澄ませること。それこそが「静かな声」を聴くということなのかもしれない。
🔗あわせて読みたい記事
The Clear Sky After the Rain, and the Quiet Beneath the Water
The morning after the typhoon had passed, the air that greeted me as I opened the window was not the same as midsummer’s. The sky stretched out in a clear, brilliant blue, and though the sunlight shone strong, the scent it carried was one of autumn. Unlike the scorching heat of August, there was a gentleness hidden in the air. Perhaps it is through such subtle scents and sensations, more than through the thermometer, that we notice the turning of the seasons.
By midday, as the sun reached its height, the temperature had risen sharply and the heat of summer seemed to return. Yet it was not the searing, burning heat of August. There was a calmness to it, as if the season had already shifted. I found myself wondering whether we were simply approaching autumn, or whether I was already standing at its threshold. Surely the calendar was advancing, and the colors of the sky and the touch of the wind confirmed the change.
In the evening I headed to the gym, where the pool was crowded with weekend visitors. People lined up at the edge, waiting for their turn. Yet the moment I immersed myself in the water, the crowd disappeared. There, beneath the surface, was a world of my own. The noise and presence of others dissolved into silence, leaving only the sound of the water and my own breathing.
As I swam, the thought of that morning’s autumn air returned to me. The clarity of the sky and the embrace of the water seemed to connect somehow. Both offered a space apart from the noise outside—a pure time where I could reflect. To sense the shift of seasons in the air, to find stillness in the water—both are ways of returning to myself.
When I left the gym, the night air wrapped around me, cooling my body still warm from exercise. The heat of the day had faded, and again I felt autumn’s presence. Only a few days ago, I could not bear the night without air conditioning, yet now the natural breeze alone was enough.
The changes brought by the typhoon did more than alter the sky and the wind; they gave me a new lens through which to notice the world. The scent of autumn in the air, the solitude of the water, the coolness of the night breeze—each was like a small reminder of the seasons in motion.
Life rushes on, but in moments like these, I can pause and listen to the scents of the air, the feel of the water, the voices of the wind. Perhaps this, too, is what it means to hear the “quiet voice.”
🔗 Related Articles
コメント