Silence
9.12.7

I love silence.

When I say that, I'm really talking about the near-quiet state that one sometimes experiences that seems silent, but only when in comparison to the rest of life's daily hustle. It is this faux-silence that I've come to accept as the genuine article (True silence is something that I rarely encounter).

It is in this state when I am really able to appreciate the sounds that I usually don't hear. I love the ticking of a clock, for example, or the turning of a newspaper page. I love the hum of electrical wires and the sound of a breeze. The slow steady echoes of dress shoes slowly walking across a tile floor can be music sometimes. There are beautiful sounds occurring everywhere.

I think that one of the most annoying collective traits of American society is its inability to appreciate these moments. We live in a world of noise. Our ears are constantly being assaulted by a cacophony of loud and obnoxious sound. Some of it is forced upon us, such as the constant construction projects we endure, or the roar of airplanes above our heads. Other noises are simply tolerated because they come from the machines that make our lives so much more convenient.

People as a whole, however, have even grown past the point of mere acceptance. Like a nationwide case of Stockholm syndrome, they've come to sympathize with their aural captors. Too many have come to the decision that they actually need constant noise!

I discovered this due to an experiment I unwittingly conducted while working at Papa Murphy's Pizza. The radio there had become a consistent point of contention, due to the differences between what the younger employees chose to listen to, and what the owner deemed acceptable. Eventually it became standard practice for me to simply turn off the radio altogether.

It was a solution that actually seemed to gel with most of the employees. The lack of over-zealous screaming DJ's and crappy top-10 tunes that repeated every hour actually seemed to lower the stress level in the store. It became a much more mellow and balanced atmosphere on those stereo-free nights.

The lesson I learned, however, was that a lot of people are bothered by a lack of external stimuli. Time and time again people would come in and without hesitation say the exact same five words. It was almost creepy how similar the intonation was each time. It's a short phrase that I have come to equate to an insecurity of sorts: "It's too quiet in here." Too quiet. The concept simply astounds me.

To fear silence, is to fear one's own thoughts.