The Sound of Silence

Absolute silence is such a rare phenomenon in today's society that to encounter it can be somewhat un-nerving. I awoke this morning to a rather emotional episode of the World Service soap Westway, and then decided to turn the radio off for a bit, as Classic FM was playing some rather doleful chamber music of which I not a fan. This exposed me to the silence.

Nothing. No cars (this is Eastbourne, after all!), no humming of fridges, transformers, slamming car doors. Not even the nightclubbers one might expect to be straggling by at this time on a Friday morning, especially with the festive season starting. No crying child downstairs, no floorboard-creaking feet upstairs. All I could hear was what I have always assumed to be the flow of blood near my eardrums- not even the thump of a lumpy mattress spring as I lay still.

You would think that such silence is very relaxing, especially in the stillness and darkness of night. Yet it's incredibly difficult to "be" still, to shut oneself off to all thoughts and imaginings and mental action. We get so used to constant sensual occupation that it's rather like a standby button which can never be turned off-the power and the energy are still flowing.

I tried to think of things spiritual, to turn my inner voice of silence to God and to thinking on "whatever is pure, whatever is noble, whatever is true" etc. To voice my prayers would be intrusive, but to stay silent too was, paradoxically, distracting. And so I return to the whirr of a quietfan, the click of a computer keyboard and here I am again with one of my night owl blog postings.

Of course, 'hearing' this Sound of Silence, I couldn't help but think of this classic Paul Simon song, and wanted to check out the full lyrics. The link above actually takes you to his harmonic helpmate Mr Garfunkel's site, but interestingly you'll also find it at www.paulsimon.com.

As I type, the Silence is being gently punctured by the wasp-like drone of a light aircraft at altitude: what can they possibly be doing over Eastbourne at this unearthly hour of a December night. Are we being watched? In so many other aspects of life we are these days, and probably heard too though I am not about to be carted off by the men in white coats for hearing voices! But it just goes to show the paradox of silence which is so masterfully conveyed in the oxymoronic title of Mr Simon's 1964 composition which, like my sleeplessness, began at 3 a.m.

A MIDNIGHT CLEAR
Reader, look at the lyrics and take them to heart. As I enjoyed/endured my silence, I thought "only 22 days to Christmas". How much hustle and bustle will threaten to drown out "the silence of eternity" as we roll down that hill to the mid-point of history and the end of another year. The angelic voices and heavenly harmonies kissing our timpanum are part of the special "magic" of the Christmas season, even if the reality of Christ's birth was that it was unlikely to have occurred at night and not a winter's night at that. The "Neon Lights" can be beautiful to look at; one of the few American traditions I approve of is the massed ranks of polychrome twinkles that are appearing in houses and gardens around this time and have been in shops for months.
But let us never let the ephemeral beauty of the sounds and lights of Christmas ever dazzle us, like oncoming headlights and a noisy car horn, from focussing on what really matters. Let us clear our minds and our senses and focus on our inner selves and our outer world, and put our minds as best we can to bettering both. As we do that, we will start to understand the excitement and anticipation of the Advent prophets and man at war with man will truly hear the love song which E H Sears so wonderfully and poetically conveys in his classic hymn ( It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.) Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing!