There’s something profane about the overproduction of noise. I didn’t appreciate the the power of silence until I returned to writing. Most consider noise to be a physical, acoustic production. They tend to neglect the mental noise we subject ourselves to daily.
It’s easy to forget that not all sound is a good thing, including those echoes of thought and memory. As someone who’s repeatedly advocating for living loudly, I continually struggle in reducing my noise production. For a long time, I resolved to mute all sound. In stifling my voice, I also cut off communication with God. I stopped responding to everyone, human and divine. I muted my reality inside and out.
Ironically, this was a reaction to the perceived trumpet blasts in my past reality. I was too attuned to all the wrong channels. I allowed my anxiety and depression to filter what I heard. I wasn’t hearing voices but perceiving, and subsequently receiving, bad vibrations. When you only hear what you think you’re going to hear bad things, that’s all you hear. In psychology, this is referred to as a self-fulfilling prophecy. No one being a proven clairvoyant, this typically fear-based prediction of the future results in forced change. The unnatural byproduct of forced change is the undesired, but anticipated, prophecy. I narrowed my perception to a fine point where I channeled away the good vibrations.
Here’s some unsolicited advice: Find your values or principles and tune your ears to those things alone. Reject those things which do not match your current frequency. Don’t be afraid to tune out when something sounds entirely antithetical to your desired wavelength. Bear in mind, I’m assuming you that you’re tuned to the real Truth, the voice of God. The wisdom He produces can feel like noise amidst the discordant noises of the world. He’s much easier to tune out than listen to for His sounds are but whispers in your heart.
I recall the ruckus made when I tuned back in to all of reality. The first things to come back were the loudest and the worst. After deafening silence, I’d removed my ability to tune out. That’s when I began seeking a healthier silence. I didn’t want to to deafen myself to the music of life any more than I desired noise.
I began from the beginning. Before I worried about about noises I made, I need to consider what I let in. I needed to put far more consideration into what I’d previously blindly consumed. I’d let the insecurities of others impact me when I took their criticism to heart. I ignored helpful advice. I heeded the world’s ideas over God’s when it came to how I “should” be living my life. All of that that noise eventually went somewhere–straight to my head.
For a short time, I didn’t attempt to expel noise or reduce its presence in my life. I stifled it, bottling it up to a dangerous, deafening level in my mind. Eventually, the mental resonance overpowered me. That’s when I began producing noise. All of the feedback poured out of me, producing an existential static which blanketed even divine whispers. It took me shutting up and listening to my heart to understand just how much noise I was producing.
The most common noises I made were negative. They varied from a mosquito-pitched whine of unfairness to a banshee shriek of rage. I made words with my noise, but nine times out of ten, they were a waste of breath. When I began storytelling, I found a space to refine my noises into digestible, even enjoyable, sound. It’s easy to forget your voice is worth sharing when you shriek yourself into hoarseness with overuse.
I’ve come to find grace in the quiet spaces now residing in my head and heart. I’m certainly still making room, as echoes of past noise reverberate in the darker corners of myself. I’m learning to quiet my mind and slowly tune out the negative feedback of useless noise. One day, I might find peace of mind more often than not. I’ll conduct these noisy thoughts into a divine orchestra. Cacophonous raucousness be gone. Enter the sound of silence.