In my personal opinion, I feel that silence is over rated. That is not to say that I do not like the quiet, I can thrive on quiet. Nor does it mean that I enjoy continuous, vociferous noises that can disturb your thoughts, hurt your head and interrupt your sleep. But I feel that silence is a very rare and sometimes unachievable prospect. It is something that people often seem to confuse with a scale of how quiet the environment is deemed to be, or is aiming towards. A professor may ask for “Silence!” or you may enter a “Silent Area” in a library, but how achievable is this so desired vision? I often write on my own, with the doors and windows closed, in an attempt at quiet, but nothing quite close to silence. Noises, I think, are necessary to ones sanity. As someone always surrounded by noises of most sounds, I find them quite comforting. Now, imagine to yourself real silence that can make one weary of the noises of living. Even when you are writing, whether it be on paper or typed, you will hear the scratching of your pen scraping indented thoughts against the page or your fingers translating thought to keyboard, with the constant whirring of your laptop making a too late attempt to cool itself down. But if these sounds could disappear as easily as they are created, would you really want silence?
To be out in the woods, without the rustle from wildlife through the trees and the fallen branches littered on the bed of the woods, without the breeze of the cold northerly winds whistling through the leaves and the small gaps, without the sound of your breath, or your heart beat or your thoughts. Real silence is a frightening sound. You want the sound of your breath repeatedly whirring, the sound of your heart stirring and hurrying, the sound of the wildlife chirping and talking and moving around to remind you you’re alive. These sounds and these moments are all too extraordinary to pass by simply silencing them.