Silence as Luxury
I read an interview with an author about her book, The Silence Factory, about a spiders’ silk that can be woven to create a fabric that blocks out sound. So silence becomes the ultimate luxury item, which it is, even in the here and now.
It’s one of the only times when not having something makes you richer than someone who does. Quiet is a corner office with a door. Quiet is a penthouse apartment above a city. It’s easy to create noise but much harder to create silence.
I was drawn to the interview and the book discussion because I love silence. I work in silence. I usually drive in silence. Between noise and silence, I’ll choose silence every time. Or, at the very least, quiet.
What about you?
2 comments
I too value silence, or at least the opportunity to select which noises I am exposed to. At the start of the Trump presidency, I began filling my gas tank only (barring unusual circumstances) at a local immigrant-owned gas station which — wonder of wonders — does not play ads at me when I fill my tank. And at the beginning of the pandemic I (like many others) started using delivery services rather than shopping, including for groceries. And you know what? If I go into a grocery (or other retail establishment) now, I find I am (with a few exceptions) subjected to piped music. So — I don’t. Which is, obviously, a ridiculous privilege (i.e., I can afford to use Instacart. Which I do, somewhat guilty. I tip generously!). But yes, I am willing to pay to avoid exposure to those noises. Don’t even get me started on waiting on hold nowadays…
I like quiet, but also enjoy noise sometimes too. I like music, but generally only in the car. I like birdsong, but not that one a-hole who sits right outside my window, screeching. I like noisy people at family get-togethers, but usually have to retreat after a while.
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