The sounds of silence.

Doubtful Sound, New Zealand
Photo by Sue Lovell

The human sense often associated with the word "chaos" is hearing.  Say the word and sound associations occur - screaming children, wailing women, swords clanging, protestors in a raging debate, explosions, shattering glass, twisting metal shrieking as it dies, the auditory backdrop for the end of days. 

My life, my job, my forte' ... chaos.  With that chaos comes the soundtrack - dogs barking, kids fighting, phones ringing, keys clacking, computer chiming, music playing, sirens blaring, multiple radios squawking, it goes on and on.  If those sounds are not sorted properly through the filter of my psyche - my mood, my level of interest and enthusiasm and fatigue, then it becomes less of a backdrop and more of an assault.  If I cannot translate the daily cacophony into a functional tapestry then those threads fray and snap, shredding my nerve endings into a fragile, tangled mass of stress. 

I have found that the older I get, the more I crave quiet.

For so long I have been functioning at an exhaustive pace, I rarely have time to notice just how much noise there is around me.  The audio melange is just part of what amounts to daily life and is a necessary evil, or is it?  Look at what I found about noise on a Yoga instructors site:

Sound 101

"Since the mid 1940s, music has been used as a therapeutic tool to address a wide variety of physical and emotional conditions. Much data proves that the vibrational frequencies produced by sound waves have a subtle influence on everything from mood to health, giving new respect to the ancient healers who apparently knew this intuitively. Over the past decade, an entire industry has developed around recordings of whales singing, waves pounding ashore, and the calls of rain-forest birds, as well as countless recordings of contemplative music designed to move your meditation and yoga practice forward.
 
What we perceive as sounds are actually measurable vibrations moving through the air in waves that emanate from the source. Like ripples from a rock dropped into still water, sound waves produce patterns of regular peaks, whose rate of repetition defines the sound’s frequency. Frequencies detectable by humans range from 20 hertz to about 20 kilohertz and zero to 130 decibels. Research shows that both higher, uncomfortable sounds, and lower, inaudible frequencies, impact concentration, heart rate, stress levels, ability to focus, and sense of well-being. Sounds above 80 decibels, such as power tools and traffic jams, cause responses ranging from the stress hormone adrenaline being released by the brain to accelerated heart rate and psychological distress.
 
In contrast, sounds in the low ranges can produce the release of neurochemicals that lead to an ‘alpha state’, characterized by a heightened sense of well-being, calmness, lowered heart rate, and deeper focus. It is this desirable state so often sought by practitioners of meditation."

Especially in recent months, I can fully appreciate this information.  My patience with circumstances is close to legendary, however I am finding that I can be triggered to anger almost instantly with sound.  The dogs who never shut up, the kids bursting into a screaming argument, phone jangling along the nerves at work, a dozen conversations hitting you at once.  It is almost as if at this period in my life I spend my waking time operating at the threshold of my breaking point, instead of well below it, and it simply takes the right sound to push me over that rational edge. 

I don't recall it always being that way, I've lived and thrived in noisy environments my whole life - is it a process of aging or just emotional fatigue?  It is not like I do not invoke noise when the mood suits me.  I love laughter, I sing loud and off-key to any number of artists in my car, there is everything from baroque chamber music to bagpipes to Katy Perry to black metal piping through my family's life at any given time.  However at this point in my life, I find that I have developed an absolute need for periods of quiet.

With an hour+ average commute, I spend a lot of time in my car. When discussing the pros and cons of driving I am often asked, "What do you listen to?"  The answer very often, frankly is "nothing."  I get in the car and shut everything off.  I am left solely with my thoughts and the hum of the engine.

But it isn't "nothing" - not be a long stretch.  I am listening to myself, playing through the events of the day or looking ahead to tasks for the day.  I am playing out conversations in my head with loved ones that I know I should have but likely never will.  I am writing eulogies for people who aren't dead and acceptances for awards not yet earned.  I am creating snappy comebacks for conversations long ended where I didn't know what to say, or answers to interview questions that I failed to prepare fully for.

Because I am listening to myself and not the external barrage of sounds and thoughts not my own, I can act and not REact.  I find that my nerves settle and I can relax.  I notice the things around me, the wildflowers on the shoulder of the highway, the young deer grazing in the predawn mist, hawks floating in lazy circles on thermals high above me - feathers splayed like fingertips, stroking the invisible currents like strings of an ethereal harp.  I think in narrative and write whole segments about vibrant characters and emotional topics ... that never make it to a page.

Once I am done listening to myself, then and only then can I sort out the sounds of life around me and  put them where they belong - sorting each thread in my head and seeing how they weave themselves into a fabric which I can either allow to stifle me, or carry me like a  magic carpet over the obstacles of my life like in the stories told so long ago ... when there was less noise to listen to, words carried further.

So when I ask you to be quiet, is it for me - or for you?  What do you listen to?