I remember the last time I was in the middle of absolute silence. Maybe the only time for real.
Alaska, December 2017. Jim (my host family in Alaska and a famous Iditarod musher) and I went to train dogs up north, several hours of driving from Chugiak, in the midst of the Alaskan wilderness.
Basically, all mushers move out into Alaskan taiga, with well-known trails and roadside guesthouses to host them and their dogs. This is a lifestyle and this is business for guesthouse owners. The all know each other for years, a community.
They train dogs for the races, with the paramount race, Iditarod, looming in early March.
I was a ‘city boy’ as they, in Alaska, call all newcomers. The native word is chechako. I think, the origin of this word is Atapaskan.
So, when we went out of the guest house, Jim took his team and was gone. That time, he used not a sled, but a snowmachine. By the way, by this word you can distinct an American from the Lower 48 from a true Alaskan. Down there, they say snowmobile. What a load of BS!
Anyway, when Jim and the team disappeared, he let me experience a break alone, for about half an hour. First, I could still hear the sound of his snowmachine. Then, that was it, they’ve gone. Absolute silence!
I was alone in Alaskan taiga. Plenty of spruce trees, but not a wall. Taiga is not a wall of trees, you can walk easily between them, but there are plenty of them. Thousands? Millons? The sky was blue. The sun was shining bright. The blinding white snow was reflecting the sun up in the sky. Right there, I was completely alone. No planes in the sky, not even a trace.
Nothing.
I’ve never experienced this in my whole life.
That was the time when I could actually hear the sound of silence. I was walking in the deep snow, thinking about life, thinking about a bear suddenly appearing (very unlikely, though). Kind of a meditation.
I was wandering in the Alaskan taiga, all on my own. Really unusual.
I was enjoying that moment of complete isolation from the outer world. Really, no sound at all. When I stopped, I heard nothing under the bright northern sun.
You can’t buy such moments! This is a luxury. I don’t experience such absolute absence of sounds in my urban life.
To me, true silence is a luxury. Because you’ve got to go the Far Side of the World to enjoy it.
Has silence become a luxury?
It was not an ordinary quiet, more a hush that stretched across streets and cities, the pause button on human activity pressed while we all waited anxiously for Covid to cease its attempt at world destruction.
I sat with Mrs B in our garden during the first few days of lockdown, where we both marvelled at the strange reverence of near-silence. We heard the birds so clearly, as if they were sat between us. We also heard an almost imperceptible hum and found it hard to reconcile its origin. Until we realised it was the gentle purring of our outdoor jacuzzi, a sound we had simply never heard before, always drowned out by everyday noises of cars and lorries, children playing in the street, the jangle of shop doors, and the laughter and chat emanating from cafes and bars.
Recently, everything has got louder for me. Mrs B was always complaining that I was not listening to her, (recognise that, chaps?); I assumed it was my selective hearing following over 50 years of marriage. Alas, no. Hearing tests confirmed Mrs B’s diagnosis that I was, in fact, going extremely deaf, having lost an extraordinary 75% effectiveness in one ear, including all the higher frequencies.
So, I am now the proud owner of a set of super-duper-top-of-the-range (and atrociously expensive) hearing aids. I cannot believe how loud and “tinny” my world now is. The aids are connected to an app on my phone, which means every single notification produces an earth-shattering blast in my head. The wine fridge, the washing machine, the dishwasher, the adverts on my phone, all remind me that today’s world is excruciatingly loud.
Of course I don’t want those days of the pandemic to return, but I do so long for that brief period of tranquility and calm that came with it. Luxury.
I think I’m now going to turn the volume of my hearing aids down to zero……………
Has silence become a luxury ?
Actually, it’s not a luxury for me, it’s a necessity. I need some “me” time – every day. I’ve been that way my entire life. When I was younger, I would go to McDonalds every morning. I would get a bit to eat for breakfast and find a table and read the Washington Post. Alone, quiet in a corner, by myself. I still do the same thing today, except I make a quick breakfast and read news from the internet by myself, early every morning. I would be happy to live my life in quiet solitude.
Even as a teenager in school, I never turned the radio on to do homework. I cannot concentrate with music in the background. Others must have it or they can’t focus. I like to concentrate on one thing at a time.
If you’re never alone with your thoughts, how do you centre yourself? How can you think deeply about anything? I’m not even sure a person could decide what is important and worthy of thought. Maybe that’s part of the problem with the world today. Maybe we don’t really stop and contemplate. Is it possible we are so addicted to our iTunes that we can’t think critically?
Is that a real part of the problem? When I’m in the US, I can instantly tell when someone is a big Fox viewer. Mention anything political or social, no matter how in passing’ and these folks will hit bullet points: rapid fire. It’s obvious they have been conditioned on how to respond to any topic. I assume they must hear the same thing a hundred times over so it can be passively memorized.
My problem with this is that there’s no thought involved. The person with the bullet point Tommy Gun has never asked himself what HE really, deeply thinks. I almost never engage with such people. If you already have every answer, then there’s really nothing to talk about. The TV is on all day in the background, feeding you without any thought involved. There is no silence or deep understanding.