I never notice how loud a place is until I have to record. In the moments before I just started to write, I heard the floorboards creek overhead, the water drain into the sump pump, what sounded like a microwave turning on, a moving of the chair, and a faucet turning on. And the noises still continue!
If it were too quiet, I may feel uneasy—that something were off and maybe a bad thing were about to happen. However, I could record! But I may also think too much, drowning out the silence with my own internal orchestra—or actually, cacophony.
As I listen to the floorboards creek, I try to interpret what it means. It sounds as if someone is pacing back and forth—perhaps worried, or more likely, based on the time, hungry. I try to focus and yet, ha! To no avail. Or to some avail, because I’m still typing.
What was that?! A spring? What kind of metal coil do we have that makes that sound?
OK, back to the water and the sump pump, items moving across the kitchen floor, and me, just waiting for more.
I find that if I’m really focused, I may not even notice the sounds around me. If I’m in a conversation with someone, I can drown out so much of the music, the whooshing, the squeaking, and the pitter-pattering to hear what they’re saying. If it’s an internal conversation, even more so.
So while I wish it were quiet right now so that I could record audio more cleanly, I feel somewhat grateful that all of these noises reminded to be present. They helped me open my ears (if that’s possible) and pay attention to my immediate environment. Yes, I still hear the creaking floorboards, but I also just heard myself sigh. I hear my fingers click and clack on the keyboard. I hear beard fluffily announce itself as I stroke it.
Perhaps the idea of total silence is a myth and something that I wouldn’t want anyway. I feel grateful to be less in my head and more in my body—turns out sounds are probably important for being aware of one’s surroundings.
OK, why is someone walking on that part of the floor? Never heard that before!
I guess we can learn from all of our senses and I’m glad to be reminded I can still hear well. Enjoy it while I can.
