Sounds of Silence

One of the things that I've noticed since I retired, is how much more quiet time I have.  After having 3 younger siblings growing up, living with a pianist who played most of his waking hours at home, and then raising kids and teaching young children for the last several decades, the noise of daily life had become completely normal.

I treasure silence. When I am home alone, as I am on most days, I don't very often listen to music or play the radio or tv.  I used to.  It seemed like I needed to have music playing ---- particular kinds for different activities ----- or I'd have NPR on throughout the day.  Nowdays, more and more, I only hear the grandfather clock ticking, the dogs snoring or tussling, the keets pecking around in their cage, the fridge turning off and on.  I like how the silence fills my ears and quiets my mind.

It makes me wonder how much of the busy-ness and bustle of daily life is fed by aural and visual stimulation.  I try to imagine life in centuries past, when I would never have known or cared about distant world happenings, or most likely even the political and social ups and downs of my own nation and state.  News did not travel fast and I don't imagine it felt very immediate.  Music was made by people present in the room ---- you made your own or you listened to another person who was right there with you.  The opinions and ideas that mattered most were those of people you were in actual contact with, rather than disembodied voices over the airwaves.  I like Jon Stewart, but I don't know him, and I never will.  Isn't that odd?

I've been thinking about the place of the written word as opposed to spoken word.  It used to be that writing was the only other form of communication besides speaking.  If I had stories to tell or ideas to launch, I either had to stand in the room with the recipients or somehow get printed words into their hands.  I don't think that broadcast or broadband are just extensions ---- I think they introduce entirely new pathways of processing information.  In some regards, it's almost inescapable.  Advertising is nearly impossible to avoid, whether you're driving in your car, riding on the bus, watching tv or hanging out on facebook.  Both the saturation of written language and the babble of constant noises and sounds contribute to the general level of arousal in people, that may not have been present even in urban environments 100 or 150 years ago.

So my quiet house is my oasis.  What I'm discovering is that in the silence, I can hear myself think.  I feel my body slow down, my breathing deepen, my shoulders and neck muscles loosen.  I don't need distraction and, in fact, don't want it.  There are times when I choose to listen to music or decide to listen to a certain program, turn on a particular show. Then it's deliberate. It's not the same as having it on all the time in the background, taking up bandwidth in my brain.

The silence gives me the chance to cultivate peace.  Serenity. Creative ideas.  I thought, for awhile, they were lost to me forever, but I'm discovering they were there all the time.  I just couldn't hear for all the noise.