Can we remove the Cone of Silence, please?
If you’re old enough to remember Get Smart, then you may recall that when Maxwell Smart and the Chief wanted secrecy they buzzed down the transparent Cone of Silence. Ironically, the Cone louded up their conversation to the point they couldn’t hear each other while inside the cone and often had to communicate through a bystander outside the cone who easily heard everything they said.
Today, it often feels that the western world hustles under a Cone of Silence. Way too much noise being pumped into our heads, souls and psyche. Probably intentional. Keeps folks’ brains filled with endless cacophony and they cannot think. Folks who cannot think, cannot change the status quo. And the status quo always benefits those who manage and protect it.
Last summer I needed a break from the noise, even in my own suburban neighborhood, so I went canoeing at night. Would love for you to read about it in The Boston Globe. It’s called Romancing The River.
Noise can also enter through your eyes. Sometimes when I’m on Twitter and I look at the list of tweets, it feels like an assault of visual noise with the links sounding/vibrating louder than just the text. When that happens I need to either exit twitter or tweet something related to the noise, thus adding to the noise, but not as loud because my tweet is linkless.
I started a tweet chain with a few other fun folks about giving a teleseminar on “silence.” Little prep time needed because we’d just sit on the line and say nothing, guaranteeing us silence for at least the length of the call. The idea actually picked up steam. I’m now putting a semi-silent life shop together on excising the extraneous noise up there, so we can actually hear ourselves.
Here’s why.
If we’ve all got a non-stop rock concert going on it our heads, how can we listen to each other or ourselves? Or hear ourselves screaming for help? I get concerned with the younger generations because many of them only seem to know a world filled with loud sounds and mental distractions. The more we separate kids from the beauty of silence or at least natural noise like birds chirping, the less opportunities they will have to find peace and quiet, to even know that it exists, that it’s an alternative to the marching band in their heads.
About two months ago, Jimmy and I experienced the noise-centered world of today’s youth. The old-fashioned bowling alley we frequented had closed due to an apparent lack of over stimulation. All I ever heard when bowling there was conversation and the sounds of balls rumbling down the lanes. We checked out a popular one a few towns over. The minute I walked through the door I felt like I’d ingested 2 pounds of sugar: loud music, loud games, loud people. Distractions everywhere. I couldn’t focus visually or spiritually. I had no auditory center. I kept twirling around wondering how I could bowl with so much noise. Yet, the place was packed with a two-hour wait to bowl.
We looked at each other and said, “Let’s go find some quiet.”
How about you? What’s the noise decibel like in your life?
RSS
AMEN!
I loved every word of this and I heartily agree.
One example of my own aversion to noise pollution: I live in a “quiet” green neighborhood near a park. Right now the weather is perfect for having my office window open while I write. But there’s the constant roar of lawnmowers, weed-eaters and tree trimmers. There’s also my neighbor’s driveway only a few feet from my window. Not only do their car engines jar me out of my creative reverie, but their exhaust fumes float right in my window if I don’t leap up and close the window every time they start up. UGH.
About the visual noise you mentioned on Twitter. I feel the same pain while watching TV. The producers of nearly every show these days (even the History Channel!) seem to feel that viewers need a lot of flashing effects to go with regular images. The horrid flashing lights are usually accompanied by sounds similar to swords whipping through the air. I feel they’re trying to penetrate my VERY soul with their information! I limit my TV-watching only to shows that are really worth my time – and I always appreciate a producer/director who can tell a straight story without all that extra rubbish.
Now I’m off to The Boston Globe. Can’t wait to read your article!
~ Milli
Hi Milli,
It’s a loud, loud world!
Great phrase you wrote, “I feel they’re trying to penetrate my VERY soul with their information.” For sure, it’s gone beyond mind control all the way to soul control.
Sometimes it’s like a constant fire drill … Thx, G.
*Like* Being eaten by a bear would be worth it for just the last five minutes of silence before the attack.
Hey Michael,
It seems we have to go to great lengths to find silence these days…
Hmm. A guy travels the world looking for silence and then writes a book.
Need to finish reading your K/T poem …
Thx, G.
Yes! Yes!! And, like with your bowling alley, Giulietta – it SO often seems like we’re in the minority (those of us who are not thrilled/addicted to non-stop noise) – somehow that’s disconcerting to me, EVEN though I’m used to being a Square-Peg???
Thanks for the trip down memory lane, G – I used to love Get Smart!
Milli – I hear you about those lawnmowers and weed trimmers (and here, leaf/grass blowers – argh) – ohmy!
Hi Karen,
I know exactly what you mean about being in the non-stop noise minority. Have you ever gone to the movies and spent most of it blocking your ears from the sound? Talk about bringing on premature hearing loss. I don’t understand why it needs to be that loud. Maybe we need to resurrect silent films? Get Smart – one terrific show!
Thx, g.
Perfect, beautiful, wonderful, G. And exactly where I am in my life lately too. I like to think of it as getting back to ordinary. Someday, I will l write a blog post on that, in fact. But for now, sign me up for the silence teleseminar! Now, off to read more of your lovely words at the Boston Globe.
Patty, so good to hear from you!
I love “getting back to ordinary.” Look forward to your post. Everything is a pendulum — at some point silence will become in vogue and they’ll find a way to sell it back to us, so enjoy it now for free!
Thx for reading my essay. G.
Love this. As a highly sensitive person I’m noticing more and more how noise affects me, even “ordinary” things like barking dogs and hammering. I used to lead walks for sensitives that included a period of silence at the beginning. Now I’m finding ways to create more and more silence for my writing. Feels so good.
Hi Jenna,
Like your idea of the walk for sensitives. Walks are good for the soul/sole. There might be a lot less violence if relaxation became an encouraged form of living instead of agitation, which reminds me of that loud and banging phase of the wash cycle …
thx! G.
Giulietta,
Loved reading about your canoeing experience on the Charles River! In fact, it reminded me of our trip through Boston last summer. We ended up downtown to explore the city (the streets are crazy!!!) and it was wonderful to walk around and take it all in. And then we wandered upon this big footbridge across a big highway, leading us into a park right on the Charles River (and right across the river from MIT, I believe). Amongst the busy-ness of the city, our whole family just soaked in the peacefulness of this park – as we looked out on the river. I’m picturing it all right now again, and it brings a big smile. Something so simple a parkbench on a green space overlooking a river – and there was peace in the quiet of those moments.
I so savor my mornings – and the quiet that begins each of my days. Those couple of hours that start the day in quiet help so much to create an extra calm throughout the rest of the day…
Thanks so much for sharing this, dear friend…
Hi Lance,
Thanks for reading the canoe piece (peace!). Glad it returned you to your Boston Journey. Think you were on The Esplanade, that lovely sliver of wildness in the heart of the city. The July 4th Boston Pops concerts take place there. When I lived in Boston I used to jog all around that area.
Quiet – good way to start the day. Like your post title. Will check that out! Thx, G.
Giulietta,
As often happens with your posts, this one brought to mind a pet peeve of my own. How these days, we have to go out of our way (canoeing at midnight) to find silence. How sad about your bowling alley.
Years ago, when I had a country home in the middle of a pine forest. I put up a poster that said something like, “What joy there is in silence.”
Silence is a rare treasure these days when everything seems aimed at dulling rather than heightening our senses. For months, I’ve been almost unable to write due to sounds (people talking, phones ringing, splashing in the swimming pool, etc.) and outside interference that constantly distracts me. People tell me I’m antisocial not to be communicating all the time, but I just want to be alone and in silence. I remember with nostalgia when house sitting in Santa Fe, I’d go to isolated houses where all I could hear were bird calls or maybe the occasional murmur of a car in the distance.
I loved how you said that noise can enter through the eyes as with Twitter. True that the noise on the Internet can be deafening. For this reason, I’m not a good Twitterer (or Tweeter). I find it daunting to confront an array of tweets. If feels like I’m being shot with little arrows and for each one that I pick out, several more land on me.
At the risk of sounding like a conspiracy theory nut, I can’t help wondering if all this bombardment of our senses might not be a form of keeping us – the masses – unthinking and controlled.
Hi Penelope,
The country home you had in the pine forest sounded divine. Love pine needle forests! Nice metaphor of being shot with little arrows. Juicy.
It’s hard to know for sure if someone’s behind the noise bombardment as mind control. I do know that deliberate dumbing up down in the schools has been documented via letters.
Are they related? Maybe. Surveillance is another topic I’d like to take on!
Thx, G.
Came back to tell you how much I loved your Romancing the River article in the Boston Globe. The sound of crickets and bullfrogs as you paddled silently is just what I long for: the silence of natural sounds. I loved reading about your mother’s memories of the ballroom. And your final paragraphs gave me a rush of goose bumps – a wonderful finale to your magical tale. Well written and I lost myself in the story as I read.
Hi Milli,
Thank you for reading the essay and letting me know that you enjoyed it! I’m on my town’s historical commission, so I love the old places and wish we’d think thirty years down the road before trashing land and buildings. “Fires” happen frequently to places standing in the way of progress. G.
I agree about thinking ahead before we tear places down. I was saddened while reading your article when you pointed out that if only the ballroom could have survived another few decades couples from all over the world would be flocking there.
It’s wonderful that you get to be part of preserving your local history.
> … I heard nothing but crickets and bullfrogs
I always enjoy moments like that.
Hi J.D.,
Thanks for reading the essay. Simple sounds of the night relax me … g.