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June 21, 2012

The return of silence

Life is noisy and chaotic, a cacophony comprised of layer upon layer of modern and ancient sound alike. Having lived in large cities for much of the past decade, I had at once developed the ability to filter out certain ever-present noises and yet also become acutely aware of others.

Tucked twenty-three stories above the world in Toronto, one might have thought that we'd be free of most of the sounds of the urban jungle, affected only by the tinkerings, comings and goings, and parties of our neighbours, but such was not the case at all. Perched directly above the busiest highway in all of Canada (the 401), our cement tower could scarcely block out a dog's bark at ground level, let alone the incessant stream of harried traffic that hurried past every moment of the day.

There are many elements of city life that I love, but noise pollution is not one of them. Even in other metropolises I'd called home over the years, none had come close to being as clogged with constant sound (at least on my respective streets) as our home in Toronto was. Some days you might find that you barely noticed the honks, tire squeals, whoosh of vehicles, and loud pedestrians, on others - especially if your nerves were frayed or you were ill - you'd find that every last pin drop seemed to be magnified tenfold.

In this deafening environment I yearned for a great sense of peace, for air that was still and sweet, placid and busied only by the rustle of the breeze through a leafy branch. It was with no small amount of joy then that I embraced and relished the fact that our new home is located on a street so hushed, especially at night, that at times it feels as though the whole neighbourhood has taken a vow of silence.

 

Ansel Adams, Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada, from Lone Pine, California, 1944, vintage nighttime photography

{Precisely the sort of uninterrupted, grandly wonderful quietude I missed intensely for many years before returning to the Okanagan Valley earlier this year. “Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada, from Lone Pine, California, 1944” by Ansel Adams.}

 

This quaint street (which, having coincidentally lived on it many years ago, I already knew was sublimely serene) has but one lane of traffic coming and going in each direction. It winds it way a tad past our home and continues onto a small retirement community and a golf course, two of the most tranquil places one could ever hope to have as their neighbours.

As the evening grows later and the heady, passionately lovely scent of honeysuckle wafts through the air, I find myself almost moved to tears as I venture outdoors and am embraced by calmness.

A few cars still mosey about, somewhere in the distance a sprinkle plays its tell tale "tis-tis-tis" melody, and the little creek right across the street babbles gently. A black and white cat tiptoes across the grey pavement still enticingly warm from the afternoon sun, and a child scurries past in the blink of an eye on their bicycle, but that is it, and as the night grows older, the quietness that permeates this lovely parcel of the town will only intensify.

There are many blessings in life, but I've come to realize over the years that few are as powerful, captivating, and thoroughly important as being granted (even if only once in a while) the gift of silence all around you.

Alone with my thoughts, the early summer heat, and the creek's exquisite lullaby, I am filled with the sort of joy that stems straight from the soul and which can only be matched by the immeasurable beauty of this renewed discovery of serenity itself.


16 comments:

  1. Lovely, lovely post. I find my serenity in being in my house, all alone. It's a wonderful way to shed the outside influences and remember who you really are and what you're really about, to center oneself, as they say.

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  2. Silence is a completely underrated and under-appreciated thing. I'm glad you have been able to find some peace. While I have not lived in a city as large and metropolitan as Toronto, my husband and I lived next to a Ford plant the first few years of our marriage. While I was able to block out the sound of the cars, the coupling and uncoupling of the trains carrying the new trucks to their destinations would disturb me. Luckily my hubby could block it out.

    Hope you are enjoying your new place and feeling well.

    Best Wishes,
    Amanda

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  3. There really is something wonderful about the sound of silence. I have friends who have always bought houses directly under the London Heathrow flight path. They say they no longer notice the planes, but any conversation in the garden is regularly halted as a plane rumbles over. That would drive me crazy!
    I am so glad you have found your quiet spot.

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  4. I can't tell you how much I relate to this. We live in the suburbs of Southern California and there is noise even IN the silence, sadly. I have a little penny jar (actually, two) in the kitchen that I throw loose change in, daily, in hopes that I will spend it on a ranch someday.

    And all I'll hear is quiet.....
    :)

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  5. I know just what you mean about the beauty and serenity of silence - a rare commodity these days.Even on Blackamoor there is the distant hum of traffic and planes passing overhead. People these days seem to be afraid of silence - everywhere you go there is noise, even in the doctor's waiting room music or (even worse!) talk radio is booming out. I'd hate to go in there feeling really ill, I'd be ten times worse by the time I got into the see the doctor:) There'd be a lot less stress around if people just sat quietly a couple of times a week and listened to the sound of the wind in trees and the singing of the birds - even in a city there are parks with quiet corners.

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  6. Where I call home, is the home of trains and LOTS of them. John Dillinger {a fellow Hoosier native} said he would never rob a bank in Terre Haute cause he new he would be rail roaded {Hautian slang for being stopped for long periods of time by a train.}

    I dream of a country home. :::Sigh:::

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  7. Jessica after reading your very moving post I am reminded of the poem 'Desiderata' which starts off ' go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence'.

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    1. That's absolutely lovely, I'm touched to know you were reminded of such a beautiful, classic (vintage) poem.


      Sweet hugs to you, dear lady,
      ♥ Jessica

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  8. Dear Jessica, This is one of your most beautiful and heartfelt posts, written with such insight. I can very much relate to your sentiments – silence and solitude are vital to me and often in short supply. I can't tell you how happy I am that you are settled in such a peaceful environment. I can see its effect on your thoughts already. xo

    – g

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  9. Beautiful!
    I have just returned from short trip to my hometown, it always seemed so small and deafeningly quiet when I was young. I yearned for the hustle and bustle of the city. Now that I live in Vancouver the serenity of my small town brought a feeling of peace I had almost forgotten. Simple enjoyment of sitting with family on the veranda,in the setting warmth of the prairie sun, surrounded by my mothers lovely garden....nothing can compare.

    Thank you for this post, Michelle

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    1. Hi Michelle,

      Thank you very much for sharing your experience with me, I really feel as though I can relate. I was born in the Lower Mainland (lived mostly in Abbotsford), but moved to Penticton just a few weeks shy of my ninth birthday. As a youngster I often pined for the energy and fast paced life of a city once more, and quickly made my way to Calgary, and then Europe, before landing in Toronto once I was old enough to hightail it out of town.

      As the years wore on though, while I do love many elements and perks of city living, I too began to seek out the solace and tranquility that small (or at least smaller) town living so often provides. It took a long time to get back here, but now that I have, I couldn't be happier and am reveling in every peaceful moment.


      Wishing you zen-like serenity even in the chaos of life in Vancouver, dear gal,
      ♥ Jessica

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    2. Thank you Jessica!
      The weather here has been nothing short of dismal as of late, hopefully Penticton is offering you a bit more sun!

      Have a wonderful long weekend,

      Michelle

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    3. Thank you very much, Michelle!

      We've been getting soooooo much rain here this month that I'm starting to think that the Coast is going to adopt us as one of their own pretty soon! :) Fingers crossed we'll both get blessed with a gorgeously sunny Canada Day long weekend!!!

      ♥ Jessica

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  10. Thats the first thing I noticed when I first lived on my own...the precious silence. I wont have any until my children are grown and have moved out LOL But I love and cherish the little moments where all I can here is own breathing. xox

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  11. What a beautiful post. It makes me miss my house in Ontario SO SO much. x

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  12. A magical post. Recently we have been in serious discussion's about leaving London and moving back to The New Forest. You can not beat the 'hush' that you get in the country and his post has put another 'pro' to our moving a way list. My family home is in a sleepy sea side town and when night falls I love to go for walks, see the stars and just embrace the silence. Theres nothing quite like it. You have described it perfectly, such a lovely post. Thank you. x

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