224 – Silence

Click the video above for several minutes of background waves while reading.

I like to walk on the beach. It is good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet.

Not long ago, a challenge post about silence got me thinking. Knowing I couldn’t participate, I added silence to my possible topics list. Yesterday I saw a quote that served as a reminder. “Everything that’s created comes out of silence. Your thoughts emerge from the nothingness of silence. Your words come out of this void. Your very essence emerged from emptiness. All creativity requires some stillness.” (Wayne Dyer, psychologist)

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To those saying silence is the total absence of sound, the beach is far from silent because the sounds of persistent waves and wind are obvious. But others see silence as the absence of human speech – a muteness of humanity. Others extend silence to the absence of human activity.

Silence and quiet seem like synonyms in our language because both are still, tranquil, peaceful, and speechless. I think about the times and places where we find silence. Although I know they aren’t complete silence, maybe silence is relative to a reference point. After all, we crave peace and quiet.

I suddenly realize my conundrum. I walk on this beach without the sounds of humanity and with the natural roars of this setting, plus my mind is racing to ponder thoughts about silence. Is the overactive brain taking me away from silence, or is this setting removing distractions so my brain can contemplate silence?

I laugh at my thoughts because many distractions can disrupt me. I also chuckle remembering a blogger stating my mind must be in constant draft mode. 

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I think about my young great-nieces – twins born into the world with innocence and deafness. One with partial deafness – the other completely deaf, therefore receiving a cochlear implant at 9 months old. After all, hearing is important in numerous aspects of human development.

I think of silence as the hum and whispers of a library, the quiet chatter of a small streetside cafe in a quiet European neighborhood, and listening to the light snow contacting the trees, bushes, and ground.

I think of silence as sitting alone at home without the sounds of television or music. Sitting quietly – maybe reading – hearing a ticking clock, refrigerator hum, and the creaks of expanding and contracting wood and metal – maybe a crackling fire.

I think of silence as a night of looking at the stars and only hearing the sounds of insects, nocturnal birds, and rustling mammals. Silence is a light breeze that causes leaves to chatter while the breeze caresses the skin.

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I think of silence as watching a baby peacefully sleeping, looking into a lover’s eyes, and then letting the eyes and lips speak without words.

Silence is when we try to make sense of sounds – of something unusual, abnormal, mysterious, or even natural.

Silence is the view from a mountaintop overlooking the lush valley below. A small hilltop will also work.

Silence is listening to the wind’s many moods because the wind can be comforting, refreshing, bold, scary, or eerie – but the wind never seems silent.

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I’ve taken morning walks in a thick fog at the beach. The wind may be absent, and my vision obscured, but those walks seem like silence. Maybe thick fog is loneliness instead of silence – but maybe loneliness is a form of silence.

While some say silence is golden, silence is also a secret and avoiding discussion, but silence can also be scornful. Silence can be powerful, so it can be difficult to argue with silence. Silence is a time to listen, but moments of silence are signs of respect.

How many of us have experienced total silence? Probably not many because that requires a specialized chamber. Then again, deaf persons know the experience of no music, no voices, no thunder, no jackhammers, and no alarm clocks. Yes, a world of complete silence. 

We live in a world with sound surrounding us. What would I hear if I were in a room of complete silence from the outside world? Would I hear the beating heart, rushing blood, air moving with each breath, the sounds of digestion? Would it be exhilarating or freakishly eerie?

Thinking about the deaf and those with assisted hearing, I realize they can regain silence if they desire it – a self-initiated unplugging from the sounds of the surrounding world. I also wonder what my great-niece experienced hearing for the first time. I wonder about a deaf adult hearing nature’s soundscape for the first time.

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I think about the busy times of the December holiday season – a time when noisy could be an appropriate adjective. Maybe that is why I like the silence of Christmas Eve. The hectic world suddenly is still with the silence of closed stores, empty parking lots, and minor traffic on the roads. I enjoy that silence.

Because sound surrounds us, maybe there is no true silence – therefore, silence is relative. Perhaps the silence on the beach is a sign of the sea’s strength. Whether the beach is silent or not, I like to walk on the beach. It is good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet.

I’m linking to Jo’s Monday Walk … . Tell her I sent you.

See what other bloggers have posted about Silence

• Sounds of the Modern World (a poem by a visitor here)
• Searching for the Sounds of Silence (an essay by a visitor here)
• Silence (a poem)
• Everything Speaking in Silence (a poem)
• In the Depth of Silence (a poem)
• Overcoming Silence (an essay)

Next Post: Magical – Saturday 13th April @ 1 AM (Eastern US)