The word, “quiet” conjures up different images. What do you think of when you hear it?
Do you picture a lush green forest, the bottom of the ocean, or the ice and snow of Antarctica?
Are you in a quiet library or a classroom being admonished to be quiet?
Are you listening to a song or watching a scene from a movie about a quiet place?
Perhaps you’re in your bedroom under a pile of blankets, safe and warm drifting off to sleep or trapped in outer space screaming into the void.
Whatever images come to mind; people have strong feelings about quiet.
Lilly Kauffman loves quiet and she’s surprisingly vocal about it in this month’s essay.
Growing up, my parents controlled the noise level of our home and woe be to anyone who made too much noise.
I always listen to music when I work. Many writers require absolute silence. I also listen to music when I go for my walk, exercise, or clean my house. My ex couldn’t go to sleep at night without music, but he could nap anywhere. I find it difficult to sleep with music playing and in the early morning hours, I can’t think of anything more satisfying than a hot mug of coffee or tea and absolute silence.
I loved being in a busy, noisy, household with my sons, hearing them laugh and play music. Ian played guitar, James was a drummer and for a short while, Christian played the violin. We watched hockey games and action movies, laughed at ridiculous comedies, or read books aloud. Even quiet activities of solo reading, putting together puzzles, or building with Lego bricks were usually done to music. Car trips were filled with music, guessing games, lots of laughing, and the occasional squabble.
When my sons were younger there weren’t many quiet moments in our home. When there were, it usually merited an investigation.
Silence only ruled our home when the boys were sleeping in their beds.
Quiet affects us beyond our experiences at home.
The quiet in a theater when an actor forgets the next line is uncomfortable and can be embarrassing. The quiet pause made by the same actor before delivering a powerful line can be the difference between a good or a great performance. There’s even a name for this type of quiet. It’s referred to as a “pregnant pause,” hinting that the silence will be followed by something significant.
When I hear, “That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard it Should Be” by Carly Simon it makes me think of quiet desperation. It’s a bleak take on marriage as she contemplates her suiter’s proposal. She laments the separate lives of her parents and worries all marriages share this fate. Are we really prisoners of our own destiny and will we go there quietly?
“The Sounds of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel speaks of the dangers of silence when we don’t confront the evils of society. “Silence like a cancer grows.”
“Rocky Mountain High” by John Denver extolls the virtues of the quiet life and reminds us of the threat to nature by civilization.
Henry David Thoreau escaped city life for the quiet and calm of Walden’s Pond in Concord, Massachusetts. Years later young men would escape the country for life in the big city
The phrase “All Quiet on the Western Front” has come to mean stagnation or lack of visible change. It is taken from Arthur Wesley Wheen’s English translation of the title of Erich Maria Remarque’s book, Im Westen nichts Neues. The literal translation is actually Nothing New in the West. Wheen’s translation has an eerie quality because it denotes quiet in the trenches during World War I – a stark contrast to the noise and chaos of war.
Quiet in a horror movie usually means something terrifying is about to happen. Quiet after an action sequence in a movie usually means the worst is over and it’s safe to come out, but you can’t trust Hollywood because there can also be a final bad guy out there waiting for you.
Hollywood also uses the peace and tranquility of the woods or the ocean to calm or heal the troubled soul. The city dweller who at first hates the quiet learns to love it.
How does quiet affect your life?