CWA: The Beauty of Audible Silence

You prepare to go to sleep for the night and begin to become one with your bed. Close your eyes and pay attention. What is the first sensory observation you make? Could it be the hue of black that suffocates your eyes in the dead of night? Is it the warm touch of your fingers as they press the bedsheets they rest under? Perhaps a tingle on your feet as something unknown or somewhat ethereal pulls at them mockingly. But what could you hear at a time like this? What is the proper definition of this “silence” we believe to have a notion of its reality?

Silence (noun): The complete absence of sound.

A subtle white noise plays in the room you lie vulnerable in, or maybe the rain that comes later in the night. What was the noise from the window, who’s to tell? I’d like to propose there is no such pleasure for an average human being to experience, not done naturally; I’m afraid so. Despite the invention of earplugs, nothing is ever truly silent on earth.

In the silence of the theatre, the only sounds found are in the speakers, displaying audio from the film. In film class, a term explored when discussing sound is the difference between diegetic and non-diegetic sounds. Diegetic sound refers to sounds that pre-exist in the world of the film. Some call it the “actual” sound of the world, whether planted by the filmmakers or not. Non-diegetic sounds would be sound effects or musical arrangements added into the world artificially, similar to if a person observes the world with music playing from their headphones unseen or focused on.

The matter of the fact is, regardless, there would be sound if I were to observe the “silence” surrounding my being at the current moment of writing this sentence. There would be diegetic sounds such as the clacking of the keyboard as I write out every different character the keyboard would offer to my choosing, the subtle noise of the moth that becomes bothersome to my ears after a while, or maybe the somewhat infernal feedback from the tower fan I use to make sure the room doesn’t become an actual inferno planned to execute me with assistance from the Floridian heat. No, I suppose the “silent room” isn’t so silent as one may perceive, I’m afraid. Going back to revise the paper months later, strangely enough, produces the same observations.

Regardless, one tends to question. Doesn’t it challenge your sanity to be aware of the sounds of your surroundings? Doesn’t it become maddening when a subtle change moves through the room like a phantom in the night, causing uneasiness in whoever is present?

Doesn’t it sicken the restless mind trying to find peace in silence?

No actually, it doesn’t. Instead, I can hear my internal voice without a single utterance coming from my mouth. That is where the blessing of our subconsciousness comes into fruition. It communicates to the brain what it wants, what it understands, and what it fears.

True silence is non-existent in the natural order of things. Of course, if the reader believes in the relationship one should have with Christ, true silence may occur in miraculous endeavors, placing a mind full of discourse and overstimulation at ease if you would.

However, artificial silence would be deafening and indeed something to drive anyone mad. The uncanny valley is a devilish realm that must be avoided at all costs; nothing is worth experimenting with with ill good intentions. When lying in bed, one’s internal voice becomes louder, more responsive, and even more reflective. Sleep introduces herself; natural silence becomes transportation to a new day. Why produce artificial silence and disrepute a divine system?

I recall learning about the world's quietest room a while back; it seems prevalent in this conversation. Back in 2016, I was assigned to a study concerning the range of effects sound reduction or amplification may inflict on an individual. At the time, I took advantage of the study to transform my room into a studio. Feeling defeated, I almost dismantled the study before finding an article by Rose Eveleth, published in Smithsonian Magazine. The article addresses an artificially produced room that has set a record of negative decibels presented in a room at -20.35 dBA. Human hearing ranges from around zero decibels to 120-130 decibels. Imagine a room so quiet that you could hear your heartbeat, the bodily processes you experience without notice. There, it is indeed maddening. Another source from social media even went out of the way to display test subjects' reactions to similar rooms. One account mentioned insanity after the individual stayed inside the room for more than half an hour. Another account celebrated a challenger for being in the same room as the article communicates about for fifty-two minutes. Of course, these subjects’ lives all carry different factors that none of us can truly understand. The point being: artificial silence = bad.

Imagine a tan-tinted room where almost no one is around besides one or two other students working diligently on their own assignments. Outer Los Olas, only a couple of feet away in comparison is much more bombastic than this claustrophobic student lounge. You’d imagine it would be silent, but you’d be wrong. Overhead speakers play outdated music that engulfs the room with ambiance. One student could interrupt the ambiance with a simple cough or sneeze. If one were to join the session, the singular would be made into a duet. Thus, the silence would be completely broken as the conversation would ensue, whether it be pleasantries or discourse. There, it creates a schism of habit. Would someone be free to work on their assignments unbothered from the ambiance around them, should the conversation be held at an acceptable level?

And what of the moments afterward?

After all is said and done, class is finished, and it is time to go home.

In personal experience, I admit to carrying extended moments of isolation, not by choice but by circumstance. Leaving Los Olas exhausted, I carry myself down A1A for a while. Of course, I tend to listen to music, even singing sometimes when in the mood. But occasionally, I sense a moment of quietness as I drive. More attention compels me to focus on what is before me, and the music ceases to be present. At that time, the only present sound would be the road rumblings. Of course, this, too, can be muted out naturally. The wonderful thing about the mind is that it is simple: he can create noise and sound where there isn't any. Despite driving in silence, the mind creates trouble. Maybe a movie plays subconsciously with decipherable audio of familiar quotes of that movie playing in the back of the head. Other times, it would be an acute monologue based on reflections on what to do next or how to react to what has happened before. Depression could set in, and Happiness could combat him simultaneously; all different yet similar voices intercommunicate the same sounds as the person who thinks these things.

Then there’s the drivers around you, a violent break of the pedals forces the mind to reel back to the moment. The red light was so quick, why was I quicker to pause? A small wait later, and the ride continues, a strange drift back to the mindscape engulfs.

The drive finishes, and we are back inside the room, filled with music, as relaxation settles in. Home alone, and the sounds of the wind sneak around the windows. Then a familiar growling noise lets it become the center stage of the next chore to debacle.

Going to the supermarket to buy groceries without music or speaking remains the same. All diegetic sounds of other clients talking, the cart running through the floor, the crunching of boxes, and the sniffs from dogs nearby, assisting their masters. Everything sounds the way it should be. One tends to be grateful for the small amounts of “silence” during regular daily activities. Finding the phone to check the list of what to buy reveals a strange bulge on the side of my shorts, a pair of AirPods I’d forgotten about. Putting them on, the world begins to soften. Scroll down Spotify or Soundcloud, and know the music completely silences the natural world.

But that “silence” is a lie, right?