See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows
in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We
need silence to be able to touch souls. -- Mother Teresa
Sounds of Silence
--by Gordon
Hempton, syndicated from onbeing.org, Feb 16,
2015
The
day will come when man will have to fight noise as inexorably as cholera and the
plague.” So said the Nobel Prize-winning bacteriologist
Robert Koch in 1905. A century
later, that day has drawn much nearer. Today silence has become an endangered
species. Our cities, our suburbs, our farm communities, even our most expansive
and remote national parks are not free from human noise intrusions. Nor is there
relief even at the North Pole; continent-hopping jets see to that. Moreover,
fighting noise is not the same as preserving silence. Our typical anti-noise
strategies — earplugs, noise cancellation headphones, even noise abatement laws
— offer no real solution because they do nothing to help us reconnect and listen
to the land. And the land is speaking.
We’ve
reached a time in human history when our global environmental crisis requires
that we make permanent life-style changes. More than ever before, we need to
fall back in love with the land. Silence is our meeting place.
It
is our birthright to listen, quietly and undisturbed, to the natural environment
and take whatever meanings we may. Long before the noises of mankind, there were
only the sounds of the natural world. Our ears evolved perfectly tuned to hear
these sounds-sounds that far exceed the range of human speech or even our most
ambitious musical performances: a passing breeze that indicates a weather
change, the first bird songs of spring heralding a re-greening of the land and a
return to growth and prosperity, an approaching storm promising relief from a
drought, and the shifting tide reminding us of the celestial ballet. All of
these experiences connect us back to the land and to our evolutionary past.
One
Square Inch of Silence is a
place in the Hoh Rain Forest, part of Olympic National Park — arguably the
quietest place in the United States. But it, too, is endangered, protected only
by a policy that is neither practiced by the National Park Service itself nor
supported by adequate laws. My hope is that One
Square Inch will trigger a quiet
awakening in all those willing to become true listeners.
Preserving natural
silence is as necessary and essential as species preservation, habitat
restoration, toxic waste clean-up, and carbon dioxide reduction, to name but a
few of the immediate challenges that confront us in this still young century.
The good news is that rescuing silence can come much more easily than tackling
these other problems. A single law would signal a huge and immediate
improvement. That law would prohibit all aircraft from flying over our most
pristine national parks.
Silence
is not the absence of something but the presence of everything. It lives here,
profoundly, at One Square Inch in the Hoh Rain Forest. It is the presence of
time, undisturbed. It can be felt within the chest. Silence nurtures our nature,
our human nature, and lets us know who we are. Left with a more receptive mind
and a more attuned ear, we become better listeners not only to nature but to
each other. Silence can be carried like embers from a fire. Silence can be
found, and silence can find you. Silence can be lost and also recovered. But
silence cannot be imagined, although most people think so. To experience the
soul-swelling wonder of silence, you must hear it.
Silence
is a sound, many, many sounds. I’ve heard more than I can count. Silence is the
moonlit song of the coyote signing the air, and the answer of its mate. It is
the falling whisper of snow that will later melt with an astonishing reggae
rhythm so crisp that you will want to dance to it. It is the sound of
pollinating winged insects vibrating soft tunes as they defensively dart in and
out of the pine boughs to temporarily escape the breeze, a mix of insect hum and
pine sigh that will stick with you all day. Silence is the passing flock of
chestnut-backed chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches, chirping and fluttering,
reminding you of your own curiosity.
Have
you heard the rain lately? America’s great north west rain forest, no surprise,
is an excellent place to listen. Here’s what I’ve heard at One Square Inch of
Silence. The first of the rainy season is not wet at all. Initially, countless
seeds fall from the towering trees. This is soon followed by the soft applause
of fluttering maple leaves, which settle oh so quietly as a winter blanket for
the seeds. But this quiet concert is merely a prelude.
When
the first of many great rainstorms arrives, unleashing its mighty anthem, each
species of tree makes its own sound in the wind and rain. Even the largest of
the raindrops may never strike the ground. Nearly 300 feet overhead, high in the
forest canopy, the leaves and bark absorb much of the moisture … until this
aerial sponge becomes saturated and drops re-form and descend farther … striking
lower branches and cascading onto sound-absorbing moss drapes … tapping on
epiphytic ferns … faintly plopping on huckleberry bushes … and whacking the
hard, firm salal leaves … before, finally, the drops inaudibly bend the delicate
clover-like leaves of the wood sorrel and drip to leak into the ground. Heard
day or night, this liquid ballet will continue for more than an hour after the
actual rain ceases.
Recalling
the warning of Robert Koch, developer of the scientific method that identifies
the causes of disease, I believe the unchecked loss of silence is a canary in a
coal mine-a global one. If we cannot make a stand here, if we turn a deaf ear to
the issue of vanishing natural quiet, how can we expect to fare better with more
complex environmental crises?
This
article originally appeared in On Being, and is reprinted with permission.
On Being is a Peabody Award-winning public radio conversation and podcast, a
Webby Award-winning website and online exploration, a publisher and public event
convener.
Be The Change: Spend some time to sit outdoors
today and listen to the sounds of nature. What do you hear?
Sourced from www.dailygood.org
Sourced from www.dailygood.org
