Jen Grier's Multiblog

Revisit: The First Step Into Silence

One of my more interesting writing experiments, Silence Theory, began shortly after I moved to Jersey City, then for an affordable life while attending school in the Village.  This was the first post, written about 2.5 years ago.  It seems so long ago, but I feel like I still have so much to think about in this area.

October 7th, 2007 in “Silence Theory”:

I’ve begun this blog in an effort to explore a phenomenon.  Perhaps this is more personal than universal.   If you’ve found me, I hope you find interest here.

This began with a load of laundry.

Laundromats, as you may be aware, are generally mechanism-filled spaces of suds and socks.   The audible pangs of the washer to the creaks of every drier can make the visit a session in audio pollution very, very quickly.

What I did to change that was wear a set of earplugs for the session – a serendipitous find in my bag – and took note of the immediate calm I found myself in.  The machines became more of a distant, indiscernible cloud… my tactile sense kicked up with the rumbles of rotation.  I enjoyed the distance between myself and the conversations in the room, which were beyond my business, you know?

Entranced by this effect, I tried it again on the LightRail, traveling from my downtown apartment in Jersey City to Hoboken.   A nearby toddler began to voice his upset with Thomas the Tank Engine when the plugs went in, and I was blissfully in my own, yet shared space.  Again, there was the lack of machinery (moving trains tend to squeal and gurgle) and a deadening of all frequencies, making the space seem less aggravated, less uninvitational.

On the PATH, there was a similar feeling of disconnect.  In a more dense space, there was less sense of selfness, but I was even more grateful for the separation between my ears and the metal grinding of the PATH.  (If you’ve been, you know the shrieks of the track, high-pitched and obtrusive.)

These were all instances of silence and my own stillness, however.  As I walked from the PATH station to school, I found that the earplugs themselves increased my sense of “inner sounds”, such as my breath and footstep reverberations.  I could also feel my pulse within my head, which was alarming until I realized that it was, really, just my own, and it’s been happening without my notice for many years now.  Initially, I had reservations about wearing the plugs in the city – would be too unaware of my surroundings that my safety would be forfeit?  Somehow, that was not the case.  Over the day, I had adjusted to my senses of touch and sight to accommodate for the “loss” of outer hearing, and I feel that I was acceptably attenuated to the new perception recipe I was stirring.  The other aspect of ear plugs is that, although many high frequencies feel rolled-off, the impacts of normal and loud sounds generally do make it through.  If I am in the city and a car approaches, for example, I can hear it and be aware, but it is a softer, round sound when it gets to me.  I have the suddenness without the aggression.

I am interested in a less invasive sound experience while in the city and elsewhere.  Perhaps further study will awaken the truths behind what we hear, our choices, and the outcome of our daily experiences.

*Disclaimer: I don’t recommend wearing earplugs for long amounts of time unless they are manufactured for that purpose.  It can, in the least, be uncomfortable, but poor plugs inserted improperly run the risk of hurting your ears.  Be safe, check things out on the packaging or look them up on the Web before delving into your own sound space experiments.