Is Silence Golden?

I’m currently visiting my mother’s house. Last week, my son and I took an evening walk around her neighborhood. I like her neighborhood, in part, because it’s quiet. It feels like a very calm place. Safe. I mentioned my assessment of the neighborhood and my son agreed with me. He then told me that he heard about places that are so quiet they can drive you crazy. Now, as I mentioned, I fancy myself a fan of the quiet so it was initially difficult for me to comprehend that a place could be too quiet.

When I’m home alone, I can go a long time without talking. I’ve watched entire movies muted with closed captioning because I didn’t want to hear sound. I don’t drink smoothies because my blender is too loud. And much to my dentist’s chagrin, I don’t use my electric toothbrush because who can deal with all that noise in the morning? But apparently, Orfield Laboratories in Minnesota and Microsoft in Washington have spaces that are quieter than I can imagine.

Orfileld Labs has a room that absorbs 99.99 percent of sound. Without the regular background noise of our lives, we become acutely aware of the inner sounds of our heartbeats, circulating blood, and grinding bones. Without feedback from other sounds, we lose the ability to perceive how we fit in time and space. We become disoriented; unable to walk steadily. It’s not a good look. People usually don't last 30 minutes in that room.

I like quiet but I guess I don’t want total silence. I told my children to be quiet many times when they were younger. But if I didn’t hear any sounds coming from their rooms, I checked to see what was wrong. Too quiet meant trouble. Even one of the quietest places I frequent, the spa, would be an eerily different place without the sounds of the water and hushed voices of the other women.

As we continued our walk I began to ponder my relationship to sound. And as I began to reevaluate my perception of my mom’s neighborhood. I heard it with fresh ears.

Many species of frogs, birds, and insects croaked, sang, and chirped as they went about their evening activities. The breeze whispered through the trees and moved wind chimes to ring. A car door slammed. A dog’s tag jingled as it passed by us. My son’s laughter filled the air. In the distance, I could hear the ice cream truck which meant a parent would soon hear, “Can I get some ice cream? Pleeeaaasssse.” Sound was all around us. And it was comforting. Like a Prince song after a long day, these sounds let us know that we were not alone. We are part of a community. Community. There's that word again.

For $200 you can tour Orfield Laboratories and spend 20 minutes in the soundless chamber. I, of course, want to try it. But I know, afterward, I'll be happy to return to my community and its sounds.

Categories: : Wonder