Not just a deafening sound from the cicada
In my last morning meditation for 2024, I was gently called to meditate upon the deafening waves of cicadas that roused me from my sleep at 5.20am. Unthrilled, I rolled from my bed and then rolled out my yoga mat for a sleepy-eyed, Final Day of 2024 yoga practice.
As is my usual routine, I moved my body through a series of yoga poses (asana), interspersed with somatic healing tools, to help my body unwind, and my mind (constantly moving with the wonders of an ADHD brain) into relative calm.
Today I felt sluggish, (most probably from the wine and gin last night), holidaying with my family gathered in a central coast resort home). Each morning around sunrise I hear the first waves of chirping, rising to a full-on roar of the cicadas surrounding the house. Becoming deafening in their sound particularly around dinner time as we eat outside as the sun approaches setting. Sometimes at the dinner table we have to yell above the noise, as the property is completely enclosed by a thick bushland.
As a child I remember the chirping of cicadas heralding summertime, and now as an adult I recall fond memories of long hot afternoons, taking one last swim before dinner time, or an early morning dip as the world wakes up – all to the chorus of cicada song.
Meditation is the focus of attention
As I crossed my legs and folded my hands into a mudra, closing my eyes, taking a deeper breath, I exhaled and instantly found the waves of cicada chirping filling my awareness. “Breathe, focus on the breath” I reminded myself as I fell into my reassuring routine of longer inhalation, and even longer exhalation, settling myself, and preparing for the journey into stillness. This morning I chose to allow the cicada sounds to sit at the front of my awareness. Other mornings I have intentionally moved them to the background – aren’t they always in the background of our awareness during summer?
Today I felt a calling to allow them to play a role ‘front and centre’. I briefly caught the intstruction from the ever present Spirit of the land “let cicada be your teacher today”. I followed obediently, and resisted the automatic urge to become irritated with the sound that usually steals the spotlight of my awaresness.
As their sound filled my awareness I felt dissociated from where I was physically sitting, in that beautiful space of ‘aware/not aware’ of my physical body. I momentarily (without thinking) found myself trying to fight my intention to solely focus on the cicada sound, by catching a whip bird’s crack, and then a kookaburra’s warning, finally recognising I had wandered off in my attention, and returned it to the growing roar of cicada.
The meditation had begun, I was drawing my focus back to original intention, one bird call at a time, over and over as I sat, the distraction of whistles and calls took a background role, and the cicada was able to take centre stage in my mind.
Cicada as the teacher
The words echo again: “Let cicada be your teacher,” as I breathe and follow the rising and falling waves of the chirp, growing deafening before fading away.
Without warning, I saw a double helix move across my inner vision—a strand of DNA. It was fleeting, but I saw it clearly: the genetic code depicted as a spiral staircase of base pairs, sugars, and phosphates. My mind started to question its meaning, but before I could get lost in thought, the image shifted into a bright yellow sound wave, undulating as it floated across the landscape of my mind’s eye.
Almost instantly, I recognised the sound waves of the cicada as they appeared to me while I sat and breathed. Instead of feeling irritated, I embraced the insight they offered.
Time paused as the yellow sound waves danced across my inner gaze. In that stillness, I saw the cicada delivering a frequency of healing—though its purpose remained unclear. The realisation struck me that the sound carried meaning rather than annoyance, frustration, or anger. I remembered how, as a child, I had often yelled “shut up!” at the cicadas or clapped my hands in the bushland outside my home, marveling as their noise fell silent before rising sharply again. I clapped and yelled over and over, feeling briefly powerful and satisfied by my ability to momentarily control their cacophony.
No more trying to control my happiness
The cicada rhythm invited me to observe where I was operating from raga (grasping) and dvesha (repulsion)—my topic of study from the previous morning. In yogic teachings, kleshas (or obstacles) like raga and dvesha bind us to a cycle where the pursuit of happiness inevitably ties us to avoiding unhappiness. Locked in this endless dance, I realised contentment (santosha) could never be found.
Through my meditation, I discovered that the cicadas offered me an opportunity to practice contentment—simply listening to their song. Instead of wishing they would stop or trying to silence them, I allowed myself to be fully present, witnessing their sound. In that stillness, I found my own moment of santosha amidst the noise.
As I meditated, I redefined my understanding of “meditating upon” a sound. I no longer sought just to become aware of the sound in all its forms; instead, I became its student. By humbling myself—acknowledging my biases, my preferences for comfort, and my preconceived ideas about how my meditation space “should” feel, sound, or be—I opened the door to deeper learning. This moment revealed not only insights about my yogic study but also the timeless wisdom of this land, understood and honored by the Darkinyung people since the dawn of time.
Science tells us cicadas have healing benefits
Interestingly, research has uncovered fascinating connections between cicada sounds and tinnitus, a condition characterised by the perception of ringing or buzzing in the ears. Many women in perimenopause and menopause suddnely find themselves experiencing tinnitus, which can become maddening.
Some studies suggest that the constant, high-frequency sound of cicadas can mask tinnitus for sufferers, offering temporary relief. Additionally, researchers are exploring how exposure to natural sounds like cicada songs may positively affect auditory processing and promote relaxation, opening new pathways for therapeutic interventions in managing tinnitus.
Finding wisdom in the cicada song
The cicada’s song became more than a sound; it became a teacher. Through its rhythm, I explored the balance between raga and dvesha, the pursuit of contentment amidst noise, and the humility required to let go of preconceived notions. By embracing the wisdom offered by this tiny being, I found a deeper connection to the principles of yoga and the ancient teachings of the land. In the hum and buzz of the cicadas, I discovered an invitation to practice presence, stillness, and santosha—a reminder that even in the chaos, there is always space to simply be.
