“Listen to the sound of silence…” I think Simon and Garfunkel were really on to something!

I’ve been ruminating on and chewing this concept of silence all day today, as I’m learning it’s a rare commodity here. Living in DC, even in the middle of the night, I hear the dissonant strains of the symphony conducted by the mighty Beltway. In my office, I hear every conversation which passes amongst my co-workers. In my apartment, I hear the banter of my roommate and her boyfriend.

Sometimes these sounds are comforting, especially if I’m feeling lonely. Ultimately, they make me crave the total absence of sound, if even for a few moments.

I’ve been privileged to have experienced this absence of sound just a few times in my life and felt filled and caressed by each experience. The first time I noticed it was when I went out to Montana with my sister, Manna, for the first time. I think I was 14 or so. Anyway, Seeley Lake was so quiet, especially at night, that it actually spooked me at first. However, after conquering my fear of silence, I felt lulled by Nature’s chorus of greebs, loons and owls and the wind as it sailed through the pine trees surrounding our aunt’s home.

Then, after I graduated from college, I went down to Australia to spend time with my sister, who had been in school there. One of the most memorable things we did was to hang out with the Aborigines at Uluru (think Ayer’s Rock), go on walkabouts with them, hear their stories and witness their customs. One night, Amanda and I went on a camel ride through the desert and I was struck by the silence which found us. What floored me was that I could actually HEAR the sound of the sand shifting under the weight of our camel’s feet as she treaded along in caravan.

A few years past that, I found myself in Israel’s Negev desert, camping with the Bedouin. Here is an excerpt from the journal I kept during my stay in the Middle East:

“Since we were stationed on a cliff, we saw simultaneously the sunset and moonrise. Both were equally gorgeous. The moon was dusted with periwinkle, indigo, rose and light hues of pink - almost candy coated. The sun, with its vibrant oranges and reds, was rich. Standing there on top of that cliff, enjoying perfect silence, and being surrounded by so much stark beauty, I felt overwhelmed. There is a sensuality to the desert with its hot air continually caressing one’s naked skin and finding still more skin, unrevealed, to tease. I felt truly alive, completely happy and at peace with the world.”

Living in Montana for the past year was a precious gift filled with silence and muted natural murmerings. I yearn for it so often these days and find that I must go within to play in it. It is only through yoga and meditation that I can swim in silent places and revive myself. Only then do I feel restored and ready to face another day of honking horns, sirens, traffic and the raised, excited, caffeinated voices of all those who live here.

Those of you who have silent places near you, enjoy them while you have them…they are more restorative than you know.

And so the journey to find new places absent of sound continues for me here. Stay tuned…I’ll let you know what I discover.