I remember the smell of burnt garbage and the noise of the busy downtown market close by. The boys have been waiting. Eager to walk with us and meet my school-time friend who is visiting from abroad. He is taking shots with his camera as we walk towards the waterfront.

There a spontaneous capoeira game ensues. It’s a beautiful Kingston morning. The boys have been training with me for quite some time. My daughter amidst them, observing, absorbing, and being carefully guarded by them. We laugh, talk, and sit at the shore looking out at the sea in the cooling morning breeze.

Images of a body thrown on a police pick-up truck come to mind. Our training session the evening before had been interrupted by a shoot-out in the neighbourhood. Childhood memories of me going to school with my friend. What a ride.

Look around. Check your surroundings. As the Jamaican morning sun is beginning to reveal its fervour the chatter, the sound of the waves, the concern about the future of my daughter, the noise of the thoughts, worries and wishes slowly fade away…allowing silence to emerge. That silence which has been there all the while. Unheard and burried beneath the noise that fills our lives. May it be heard and may its sound resonate deeply throughout our being.