Being empty nesters and working from home, there are times the house gets very quiet, especially if I get so wrapped up in work that I forget to turn on some music. And it got me thinking about what the quietest place on earth was.
Minnesota’s Orfield Laboratories has an anechoic chamber that background noise is measured in negative decibels. Okay, I had to look up what anechoic means and it is non-reflective, non-echoing, echo-free, ergo the name an-echoic chamber. According to the founder, Steven Orfield, this much silence would make standing up a difficult task after a period of time. Even after sitting down the longest anybody has tolerated no sound, lasted only 45 minutes.
Microsoft has a lab in their Redmond, Washington campus that they say can reach the limit of physics for sound. Whatever that is?
What about in nature? There are several places like Hawaii, Russia, etc.. But I’ll pick one close to me and one day I’m sure to visit. In the Olympic National Park in Washington is a region called “One Square Inch of Silence” which is on the Hoh River Trail. Along the trail when you find a red-colored stone, enjoy the silence.
Years ago I read a Newsweek article about Silence and the drowning of the sound of nature. At the time, I was working in downtown Portland. I got up from my desk and took a walk outside and these were the sounds I heard.
The squeak of my un-oiled chair. The creek of the raised tiled floor. Typing on a well-used keyboard. The click of a door. The ding of the elevator bell. The cable groan as I was carried downstairs. Another ding with a swoosh of opening doors. The washing of dishes in the bristo, a pot or pan clanging against a metal sink. The buzz of the card reader as I exited the building.
Outside, the hum of traffic on the highway, trucks rat-a-tat over uneven concrete, car whining over a bad fan belt. A distant whistle of a train bound north. An airplane heading south. A loose panel in a light stand blowing in the wind. Studded tires across dry pavement. Street announcements from an opened bus door. A car alarm going off and another being beeped into deactivation. Ringing tone of a cell phone. Tiny pebbles rolling from inadvertently kicking them. Pant legs brushing against one another. Music from a passing van.
The only natural thing I heard and only half of it was from nature was the tumbling leaf over asphalt.
Can’t wait to get back on the hiking trails so we can hear the birds chirp, the small creatures scampering beneath dried leaves, the rushing of the rivers, and the sound of waterfalls on rocks.
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