We are living in a time of unprecedented noise. Not the white noise of wind in the trees, or evening crickets, or waves crashing on the beach. God awful noise that seeks to drive us to places unholy and assaults our precious capacity for listening.
My street is undergoing a major road project, new sewers, new water pipes, drilling pavement, concrete saws, house shaking heavy equipment movement, etc. The house I live in, as is another one door down, is getting a new roof. The house next door is having the aluminum siding torn off in screeching metal on metal cacophony, while a new fence gets hammered around it's perimeter. The air compressor parked outside my kitchen window is almost as bad as the dork down the street who ran his generator 24/7 after Hurricane Ida.
Ten months into the road project and two weeks into general house repair noise, I'm ready to check myself into the nearest sanitarium for some peace and quiet. Here's what happens when we are constantly bombarded with loud sounds.
We lose our peacefulness very quickly. We become agitated and restless. Our nerves are frayed and we become less tolerant of people and their idiosyncrasies. We long for quietude and solace and hope we can calm down enough to get some rest.
I am adept at tuning things out. Anyone who's raised two toddlers under three alone will tell you it's a natural trait to listen for the warning tone in the noise and ignore the babble. I try to do this in daily life; ignore the traffic and the sirens, the shouts, the airplanes, the bastard fighter jets, etc. But it's been ten months of near constant din and I'm about to lose it.
I am glad I can step out tomorrow night and hopefully hear some great music. It does soothe the savage beast, and I, alas, am one.
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