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Solitude and Nature

Solitude and Nature

28th December 2015227Views9Comments
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Do we need to use all of our senses to truly connect with a natural place?

I recently hiked several miles of strenuous, steep trail into one of Utah’s glorious national parks, then stopped just shy of the payoff (a natural stone bridge) because a score of other people were enjoying themselves loudly while hanging around there.

Viewed from afar, a loud crowd living it up at the natural stone bridge.

The noise bothered me. I couldn’t get a sense of the place, hear the wind or the birds, or muse on the natural monument with any sense of awe, because I wasn’t able to ignore the human voices.

Yes, I’m a seeker of silence, especially when I’m bent on immersing myself in nature. For me, it is part of the experience. I realize not everyone feels this way. For some folks, the enjoyment of a natural place might come from spending time there interacting with other people.

Me, I want to interact with the plants and animals. I want to creep up on the shy lizard surveying its territory from a rock. I want to follow the meadowlark’s song until I can see the bird itself. I want to smell the pines and the milkweeds and the rain-soaked sagebrush.

This lizard came out onto a rock and surveyed his/her territory during a quiet stretch.

I also want to enable these kinds of experiences within my own garden. That’s my number one goal in my garden: to spend silent, solitary hours wandering and pondering, connecting with nature and with my deepest self.

A large part of connecting with nature is being receptive — not producing one’s own sounds, but noticing and processing external sources of input.

Here is the problem: we are wired to preferentially hear human voices. Our ears actually amplify sounds in the same frequency as the human voice (that, by the way, is one reason gas-powered leaf blowers are so annoying). So as we process the inputs in our environment, we have to work harder to notice the other sounds if human voices are present.

In other words, it’s harder to connect with nature in the presence of other people.

Silence is also a prerequisite for the act of self-reflection: reflecting on one’s own personality and characteristics, explains Daniel A. Gross in this article. “Freedom from noise and goal-directed tasks, it appears, unites the quiet without and within, allowing our conscious workspace to do its thing, to weave ourselves into the world, to discover where we fit in. That’s the power of silence.”

It concerns me that our culture of noise (engines running, music playing, cell phone conversations happening wherever people are) may be preventing us from connecting with nature. It also concerns me that this same culture of noise may be preventing self-reflection.

When you go into your garden—or another natural place—do you too seek silence conducive to thinking deep thoughts and immersing yourself in nature? Do you find it?

I followed one lizard to its den. See the entrance with slither marks? This kind of tiny discovery makes my nature-lovin’ heart sing.

Posted by

Evelyn Hadden
on June 1, 2016 at 1:22 am, in the category Everybody’s a Critic, Ministry of Controversy.

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9 Comments

  1. You have truly spoken to my soul! I have come to cherish silence and solitude; I live for it. A garden, any natural space, is meant to serve for the purpose of quiet and reflection, and I do spend countless hours listening, watching, reflecting, praying…marveling in the sight of a first seed sprouting, a bird building her nest…
    Thank you for a great post and for validating that need for silence and reflection. http://perspectivereality.com

  2. I love to some sounds but at other times silence is the balm I seek. The early morning (light or dark) is a wonderful time in the country especially in my garden. It is a most wonderful place and a paradise earth would be even better.

  3. And if you dig down into the literature on meditation practices like mindfullness, you’ll find that quiet solitude can create extreme feelings of anxiety as well as other negative effects in some people.

  4. Occasionally I get blissful silence, despite living on a fairly busy street. We love the evenings full of birdsong. Unfortunately, there is always some power tool being operated in the neighborhood, whether it be the dreaded leaf blower (love it when they try to blow wet pollen off their deck) or a litany of other machinery–and must everyone cut their useless lawn one after the other, all day long? Or, someone drives by in a souped-up car (regular cars passing at the speed limit are barely noticed). Or, my most annoying neighbor plays music, usually terrible music, and yells his kid’s name over and over (who responds in kind, “Daddy!”). Even the hum of the neighbor’s radon fan is annoying. I have purchased wifi headphones because sometimes all of this gets intolerable, but I’d really just prefer the wind and the birds. I dream of the day I can have a little plot of land and enjoy true silence.

  5. Skr, Your article is poetry to my ears because I’m trying hard to sell the house I own with the traffic sounds. I was told by a friend that someone else (besides me) wouldn’t even care about the traffic sounds. Your article seems to validate that. Thanks!

  6. Well said. I spend my days alone in the field serenaded by the shrieks of redwing blackbirds, the murderous conversations of crows, the apoplectic clacking of the sandhill cranes, the low rumble of vintage tractors and the endless trill of tree frogs and my own tinnitis. It is everything but silent and serene.

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