I just loved this post by Dee of Tangled up in Sticks and String. I'd just send the link but I know she keeps a tidy blog and it may not be there next week.
The Death of Silence
I am in mourning. DEEP mourning. Silence died. I don't know the exact time of it's demise, but it is most certainly and utterly dead.
As I write, I hear the neighbor-two-doors-over dog barking at nothing. I can hear road noise from Tanner Road. Since the wind is blowing my way, I can hear the infernal canned carillon music from the Carillon neighborhood entrance over a mile away. It wouldn't be bad if it was real carillon music, but it's cheesy MUSAK-type carillon music. Every half hour --- Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head or Memories --- GAH!!!!!!!!!!!
There is a cardinal somewhere out there. I can hear him (her?), but can't find where the bird is. I can hear the pool pumps of several house, including mine. Since it's Monday ... my washer is making noise too.
Silence is gone. Even with earplugs firmly in place, there is noise. Without external noise to block it, you'd be surprised how noisy my head is all by itself.
I wonder what it would be like to be in one of those sensory deprivation tanks. Would it be relaxing? Or, would it be totally freaky to be in a place absent of any life noises? Do you still hear the noises in your head? Can you hear yourself breathe?
Maybe I'd really MISS all the noise ---------well, NOT the dog. The dog I could absolutely do without.
This made me wonder, what is silence for someone else? For me, it's the sounds of a quiet house, the dogs slumbering, the occasional hum of a car going by on the road, the toink toink toink of my bamboo wind chimes, a plane going by overhead. Sometimes it's a bit quieter, usually at night, but not by much. Rarely do I have music on, or the TV as "background" noise. My phones are turned to the quietest setting possible where I'll still hear them.