This post will include a bit more than typical for the Kansas Outback. But as implied by the title, have you noticed how generally less noisy it is?
While incredibly inconvenient for a number of sound reasons, our current sheltering situation is offering a rather unique chance to experience the past. It was a quieter time when life was slower without the annoyances of high traffic or unsightly contrails crisscrossing an otherwise beautiful sky. Besides my childhood, the last time I recall this kind of comforting silence was right after 9-11 when all air traffic was curtailed. However, this time vehicle traffic is greatly reduced as well. While I empathize with so many folks in worse straights than myself, I can't help but enjoy the amazing sound of silence as well as the absolutely clear, blue skies. While we are dealt this hand to minimize social contacts and traveling, try to find your own quiet spot. Be aware of what's not there. Think about how better quality of life we all could have if we can manage to retain some of this quieter existence in our society. There are reports of cleaner air as well as more visible wildlife because of less human activity. So, while you are isolating but perhaps able to walk to a nearest park or spend some time in your backyard, see if you notice the difference. I wrote the piece at the end quite a few years ago for a short article in the state wildlife agency's magazine. It seemed fitting for current considerations. On your way to it, enjoy some peaceful, quiet settings in the Red Hills.
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QUIET!!
Shhhhhh. Wherever you are right now, stop and listen. What do you hear? Odds are
you are hearing something. In your
outdoor adventures, can you recall a setting absolutely devoid of sound? Perhaps in a tree stand in the crisp quiet
before dawn where the waning darkened silence was interrupted only by the
rustling of some rodent beneath your perch? Beyond that, have you ever experienced utter silence, an instance where
you hear zero sounds of man or nature? Like most humans, you most likely cannot recall such an occurrence unless,
of course, you don’t have or have lost hearing. There's only a handful of times I can recall experiencing profound
silence--reflective moments on a mountain peak, solitude in the Sonoran Desert, quiet anxiety in a tree stand,
or black nothingness in a cave. Even so,
these times were fleeting. The rush of a
valley breeze, the call of a Gila Woodpecker, a rustling deer mouse, and even
an intermittent water drip in a small bat cavern have all interrupted absolute silence.
But for the person seeking natural experiences,
the artificial sounds from human activities are the most annoying.
To most people, these auditory irritations
are so pervasive we hardly notice them.
Even for folks who live in the country, there’s the incessant traffic
noise from the highway a couple miles away, the annoying oil jack engine from
upwind, the blaring train horn from many miles away, or loud barking of dogs disturbing sleep.
Peace
and quiet are disappearing from our natural landscape.
It’s unfortunate that many people who have
moved to the suburbs or the edge of town to achieve peace and quiet still do
not fully experience that fulfillment.
But,
it’s an important aspect of our inherent need for outdoor experiences.
In our relentless march towards more
highways, more industrial plants, more sub-developments, more of everything, we are
losing a precious biological and spiritual human need—silence.
For fear that such a natural life treasure is
steadily disappearing without notice, I point it out. As Richard Louv so eloquently portrays in his
book,
Last Child in the Woods:
“I hope
all of you find this silence if you haven’t found it already. It is well worth
pursuing. This silence is generated by the absence of any noise, care or
preoccupation around your cell phones, iPods, TV, Radio, Walkmans, lap tops,
noisy neighbors, the drone of traffic, barking dogs, and whatever else. This
silence is brought to you by nature as a gift.
Find your gift.” Article in Kansas Wildlife and Parks Magazine, Ken Brunson, 2009
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"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got til its gone..."
Joni Mitchell
