THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE – Hearing Nature In the City

Only once before in the 15 years we’ve lived here in Minneapolis’s Prospect Park had I experienced such quiet. It was late May, 2020, right after George Floyd was killed, and they closed the freeways as a security measure while protests surged.

This time, it’s because they’ve closed I-94 in both directions this weekend for construction.

Sally and I knew, when we bought our townhouse right next to the interstate, that we’d live with the constant hiss of tire treads on pavement. We made light of it, pretending it was the surf—just like in our favorite Mexican Pacific beach town.

In the city one gets used to things like that. But I, as one committed to noticing and celebrating life’s small wonders, have been acutely aware of what I couldn’t hear through all that traffic noise: the sweet, subtle sounds of Nature.

SOFT-SPOKEN BIRDS 
Usually, Nature’s soundscape around our house is like splashes of translucent watercolor thrown on drab, grey paper, the hues all but swallowed by the dim background. But back in May, 2020, and again today, the paper is once again pure white; the colors, vivid. 

IMAGE: Vecteezy

PHOTO: Nat'l Audubon Society

Most days it takes the raucous scolding of the blue jays to penetrate the veil, but today I’m catching the subtler notes of sparrows and 
house finches. In fact, I hear dozens of bird voices from all over our block. 

Today, pleasant summery music wafts to my 
ear from someone’s patio over on East River Terrace. Today I hear the cadence of my own footsteps.

       The deafening hush was rent by the eerie 
       wailing of wolves just across the bay.

A SILENT ROAR 
Silence is, indeed, a rare and precious gift. But is what we believe to be silence really silent? I’ve found that it isn’t. Nearly always there’s at least a murmur of sound—an airplane high overhead, a whisper of wind through pines, the indistinct hum every city produces from vehicles, air conditioners, people…whatever—to sort of anchor your hearing. 

And if you’ve ever experienced true silence, the kind that might envelop you in the wilderness, it can be unnerving. It is, as they say, deafening. 

PHOTO: Save the Boundary Waters

I experienced that kind of stillness at night on a solo canoe trip in northern Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. My brain had a hard time processing that profound absence of sound, manifesting a kind of roaring sensation as if in protest of the depravation. (One early morning, that deafening hush was rent by the haunting wail of wolves just across the bay. Chillingly unforgettable.)

         It may take a bit more focus sifting out 
         those subtler notes.

HEAVY METAL BANNED
Silence—at least occasionally—is good for us. Not just us introverts, but everyone. A 2021 article in Healthline details eight distinct physical and mental health benefits. Many other studies agree.

So I urge you, if you can, to get out of town for a while to a place where the voices of Nature can land as bright brush strokes on that pure white paper of silence.  

PHOTO: Wikimedia Commons

And even when we’re in the city, let’s make a special effort to discern the natural sounds hiding in plain hearing all around us. It may take a bit more focus sifting out those subtler notes from the “heavy metal” of urban noise, but its proven health benefits—not to mention the equally-well-proven spiritual lift—make it well worthwhile.

Have any tips or tricks for better hearing and appreciating Nature’s sounds? We’d love to hear them! Just jot a comment using the “comments” link below.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! – They Can't Take Away Wonder!

These long summer holiday weekends, it's easy to lose sight of what the occasion's really all about. Sure, the Fourth is about fun. After all, it's a celebration, a cherished opportunity to spend a few of these long, languid days just being outdoors, having fun with people we love, and eating our way into a long nap in a hammock.

But the fourth is also a time for gratitude—an appreciation of living in this great, fiercely independent nation whose liberty was hard won two-and-a-half centuries ago. I try never to lose sight of this, even though that liberty is awfully easy to take for granted, since it's only rarely been challenged since—and even more rarely on our own soil.*

The Fourth of July also has come to represent a passage into summer, especially for those of us living in northern climes. (I think we can be fairly sure it won't snow now!) So let's be aware of all those little wonders that make this season such a blessing.

Here are just a few of the small wonders I plan to notice and appreciate as if I were experiencing them for the very first time:

• The way kernels of fresh sweet corn pop as my teeth plow through them
• The pulsing sizzle of a hot meadow teeming with life
• How my skin smells toasted in sunny, sultry air

 

• The pink crystalline coolness of watermelon chilled in the creek
• The misty echo up and down the river valley of a big aerial bomb's boom

• Water – that amazing clear, cool, flowing substance that both sustains and entertains

• A bluegill's arresting colors and texture and spiny dorsal fin
• The magical, winking syncopation of firefly glow with cricket chirp
• The sweet, evocative smell of freshly mown grass
• The faces of my grandchildren as they too experience wonder
  
  

 

What little wonders will you be 
ready to embrace this Fourth of 
July weekend?


 

* It saddens me to note the deeply troubling undercurrent to this year's otherwise joyous celebration of Independence Day. Never in my long life have I been as deeply concerned about the state of my country. 
    We've elected—for the second time—a shallow, narcissistic, vengeful, willfully ignorant reality-show host as president. His yes-men appointees, as well as his sycophantic loyalists in both houses of Congress seem hell-bent on turning the nation's back on our responsibilities—not just to the rest of the world, but to the poorest, most vulnerable of our own countrymen. We are the laughing stock of the world.
    Instead of America's trademark optimism, drive and inspired leadership, we've retreated into a cowardly shell of fear, enabling shameless opportunism by a visionless, doom-and-gloom ruling oligarchy. 
    It is nothing less than an assault on our country's founding principles and on much of the hard-won cultural evolution we've achieved during my lifetime.