I’m not sure when silence became extinct, but somewhere along the line it seems to have disappeared from daily life.
Once there were great monuments to silence: churches, libraries, museums, lecture halls. Now it seems even these sanctuaries swell with a cacophony of multimedia buzz. Humans themselves are happily paying for the privilege of becoming cyborgs, it seems, and not a single shot fired.
When was the last time you were in a public place where a television screen wasn’t playing somewhere within sight? I gave up the struggle against public television encroachment when the screens invaded elevator cars. We can’t be allowed to spend mere seconds off the glass teat. Resistance is futile.
Even in my own life, living alone and controlling much of my own environment, silence often eluded me. As an office worker with a daily commute, even my waking moments were roiled by the ill wind of local news. I needed a weather report before selecting the day’s outfit and a traffic report to know if my timetable required tweaking.
After stopping the daily grind, my first rule of retirement became morning silence. I don’t yet have a full routine established, but from the very beginning the days have begun with one deeply meaningful ritual: coffee, reading and silence. It is positively restorative.
Right this moment I can hear the ticking of the clock. I can hear the dripping of rain off the roof. I can hear the refrigerator as it cycles on and off. But that’s about all I hear, beyond the occasional train horn in the distance.
Silence isn’t just golden. It’s downright blessed.
Peace be until you too.