ABOUT SILENCE.
NOISE AROUND US
If someone were to ask you about the last time you found yourself surrounded by complete silence, what would be your answer?
In a world in which the sound of technological tools echoes incessantly throughout the day, in both personal and collective life, we sometimes do not perceive sounds singularly anymore. The city’s soundscape has become a constant roaring originating from traffic, technological devices and human n/v-oices. In the midst of our noisy cities, thus, silence has become a rare ware, a rather exceptional experience. This suggests that silence, in our modern reality, is less often something random or spontaneous, but a good to be intentionally sought for. David Le Breton, professor for Sociology and Anthropology at the University of Strasbourg, argues in his book “On Silence” that “modernity is advent of noise. […] This sensation has spread especially with the birth of industrial society […] The spread of technology has brought with it an increased penetration of noise in daily life and an increasing inability to control its excesses. […] Acoustic comfort is a luxury."
So, does absolute silence actually exist? And if yes, where to find it?
Complete silence, meaning the absence of any sound, is an imagined construct. Every environment, every landscape resounds in a particular way for a simple reason: Motion creates sound. And our world is constantly moving. Consequently, silence is not the absence of sonority, on the contrary: “The zero degree of sound, experimentally produced in a program of sensory deprivation, does not exist in nature”, states Breton.
So, if external silence is artificial, or even utopian, how is it that we still experience silence in places far away from our busy lives and bustling activities?
What we perceive as “noise” often derives from the relationship between the individual and the things. This includes not only their real sound, but moreover their metaphorical voice that often echoes in our heads: endless to-do-lists, unrealistic expectations towards us and our performance in life, a million of data units and messages every millisecond. So, what we actually experience as “silence” is rather a distancing from “the things” than a sonic definition.
As soon as we manage to withdraw ourselves and for a moment, cut our connection to what normally fills our thoughts and ears with content, we experience silence. Often as a form of recollection or funnily, reconnection though disconnected.
For those living in fast moving cities, the soundscape of nature often becomes this “silent” refuge for reflection. While the non-speaking, the little pauses in our conversations with others tend to be perceived as uncomfortable, sometimes even awkward, the nature of silence and the silence of nature is widely judged as restful.
Obviously, this often depends on how an individual deals with the absence of the familiar decree and type of sounds that a life in the city, in community with others provides. While the reaction might be very diverse, from a feeling of inner peace and healing to a sensation of fear and threat, it is sure that the silence of nature never leaves us indifferent. In this perspective, silence loses every passive connotation since it demands for a response: “Confronting silence is a test that reveals social and cultural as well as personal attitudes of the individual. […] While some subjects love to retreat into silence as in a refuge, perceiving it as a propitious place to find themselves, others are terrified of it, to the point of putting in place any form of strategy to defend themselves from the same”, explains Le Breton.
SILENCE INSIDE OF US
Silence, thus, is full of potential if only we find ourselves courageous enough to confront ourselves with what is inside: An exercise that might seem simple, but turns out to be one of the most challenging experiences an individual can have. A very common phenomena is that when we enter into an external silence, the internal voices and noises arise. Social problems, fears of the future, hurtful memories pop into our mind and demand for attention. Everything “Unsolved” takes immediately advantage of the fact that we are less distracted by what is around and thus, find more time to focus on processes inside. In this “silence of things” as Le Breton describes it, “silence is a balm that heals the wound of separation from the world, of the distance between oneself and others, but also between oneself and oneself, symbolically restoring the lost unity, which the reappearance of noise immediately nullifies, unless one has the strength to make silence within oneself, despite the many surrounding noises.” This might take time and effort; silence brings all the dust to the surface. The dusting though, meaning the reconciliation with oneself (and the rest of the world) requires a willingness to face one’s own mistakes and wounds as well as the forgiveness of the very same towards oneself and others.
Is silence than just another practice of detachment from things/others and reattachment with oneself?
While noise as a tangible sign of the presence of others around one reassures us that we are not alone, that the world around us continues to move and exist, silence has the potential to evoke restlessness. Restlessness that derives from the avoiding of confrontation with the very self. Not only fear of what we know slumbers inside of us, but also fear of the unknown, or better the non-knowledge of answering ancient questions of humanity such as “What is the meaning of life?” “What happens after I die?” Although silence oftentimes carries a connotation of nothingness, of emptiness, an intentional exercise of silence is known to be one of the most effectful ways of conferring meaning. Meaning that derives from an internal investigation paired with an external observation of a “quiet”, or so perceived peaceful environment. It makes us stop to listen; listen to understand, rather than to answer.
Silence presents itself as a space in which we might perceive little whispers, delicate voices that we hear only when the loud screaming of words has been switched of.