Quiet Evening

The lagoon at night (Flickr-A. Tsai)

Lately I've been taking nighttime strolls. After 9 p.m the traffic is almost non-existent--as is crime, by the way--in our Peninsula town-cum-island. Initially I loaded my iPhone with podcasts to pass the time but have recently preferred light jazz, classical, or no sound at all.

The rhythms of the walk, and the sounds of breathing, elicit clarity.

Astrophysicist Alan Lightman also wanders about Pole Island, Maine, "searching for stars".

“If one listens,” he tells us, “there’s always music on this island. The waves rolling into the shore make cascades of sound, sometimes regular rhythms and sometimes duples and triples and offbeat syncopations—all set against the arpeggios and glissandos of the birds.”

Mr. Lightman has his feet on the ground and cannot bring himself to conclude that God exists absent hard evidence. Nevertheless, he laments “I wish I believed.” He might be surprised to learn how often believers say the same thing.