My younger brother Dennis and I were lucky enough to live in a very rural location and to grow up in the 1980s. Mom did not want us inside watching TV all day on long summer vacations (now I know she also just wanted a little peace and quiet!), and there were no iPhones or social media to distract us. So, she sent us to play outside and make up our own fun. We climbed trees, played in the woods and made mud-tacos, built forts, collected dried plants, and came home each evening exhausted and thoroughly covered in dirt.
While we were growing up in the woodlands of NH, my father would take us out hiking and cross-country skiing in woods, swimming in the local Red Water Brook, and canoeing and fishing in the Connecticut River. Dennis, and I would accompany him on as many of these wild outings as we could, trailing behind as he identified trees and taught us how to listen and track the many birds and beasts of the woods. He still goes out on long walks three times a week as his own form of meditation.
As adults, we have continued to explore and play in natural environments; sometimes together, often apart. I express this love through my nature collecting, creativity, and daily walks. My brother connects through long weekend excursions in the White Mountains, seeking the quiet places.
Dennis is passionate about hiking, and I consider him to be an expert hiker of the White Mountains. A few years ago, Dennis was interviewed by NHPR for his ability to find locations that are completely isolated from human sound. As he says, he seeks “nature sounds and not people sounds.” These are the places that truly embody the notion of the more than human world, that I mentioned above (here is another link describing the term.)
With all of the modern technology screaming for our attention, it is exceedingly difficult to find quiet moments. Our phones constantly buzz notifications, our houses are humming with refrigeration, hot water, and more. Recently, a friend was describing her disappointment at pulling up to the gas station and being bombarded by the noise from the small TV screen at the pump. It is nearly impossible to find stillness and contentment when our sensory systems are always turned on. Our nervous systems can only take so much constant noise. But you don't have to find the most isolated location to have a more quiet life.
Consider:
How much time do you spend in quiet?
Can you drive without music or news?
Sit without sound?
What happens when you give yourself time away from devices, sounds, people, and just let yourself be?
Perhaps these questions and contemplation can help us find ways to make silence a regular practice.
Make a place to sit down. Sit down. Be quiet...
Accept what comes from silence. Make the best you can of it. Of the little words that come out of the silence, like prayers prayed back to the one who prays, make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came.” ― Wendell Berry, Given
