Finding A Quiet Place

The coffee shop is not quiet. Plates clatter, orders are called out. Voices mix with the sound of drinks being concocted, the murmur of “relaxing music” always in the background.

Too much. I escape outside. 

I walk to to the car to return home. Stopping to fuel, the pump plays music and advertisements while I fill the tank. You can’t turn it off. The clerk is on his phone at the register. He rings up my purchase with one hand. He is irate, speaking loudly about a personal issue. He tears off the receipt and hands it to me, walking away absorbed in his conversation.

Back in the car, I turn off the radio, but sirens and horns, the sound of heavy trucks, and loud exhausts on small angry cars penetrate the cabin.

Walking from the garage to the house, my neighbor has his windows open and is playing music at full volume. A bicyclist rides by, his phone blasting music so he can share it with everyone he encounters.  

We have made the world loud.

How much noise will we generate to gain each others attention?

If I sound as if I am reaching the point of William Foster, the main character in Joel Schumacher’s 1993 movie Falling Down, be at ease.

I have an escape plan from the assault on my eardrums..

Sunday I will walk in the forest at dawn. I will listen to the sound of silence, breathe a sigh of relief. I often hike solo, not for exercise but for relief. Unmarked trails are the best. Inexperienced hikers rarely venture out on trails that they feel squeamish about navigating. It’s the perfect sanctuary from crowds, traffic and the growing din caused by the endless march of technology, the ’round the clock connection culture we have created. I can’t wait to disappear for a few hours of escape.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I don’t see you there. (eye wink.)