Unheard is sweeter

For the last few weeks I've ridden around in my truck without electronic sound of any kind; no cd, no radio, nothing. I wish I'd done this as the result of some sort of stoic choice, or commentary on the value of listening to pop music, but I didn't. My stereo deck quit working, and there's a small possibility that I may have broken it, but there's absolutely no way to know for sure. In the end though I ended up without the ability to produce artificial noise in the car. Riding around in a completely silent vehicle is awkward enough by yourself, but when you have someone riding with you, it's really just purely uncomfortable. Sometimes I'd role the windows down pretending to get some fresh air, but really just looking for some background noise.


At first all I could notice during this experience is how twitchy it made me to have no sound in the car. But, after several weeks of procrastination, I think I started to adjust a little to the situation and began instead to notice how much I needed that artificial sound. Then I started considering my daily activities. When it gets too quiet or too loud at work, I put my headphones on. I like to watch TV for a little while when I get home. Then I turn some music on if I'm reading or on the computer. In fact, as I write this I'm listening to a song containing the line "Let's tune out by turning on the radio."

I wonder a little at this reluctance to exist in silence. What of Keats who said "Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on"? Is it possible I'm missing some of life's sweeter melodies by constantly attacking my conscious mind with things being heard? I believe I may be. In the future I think I'll willingly turn the stereo off in my truck every now and again, and maybe even with someone else in there with me. Then I'll turn to them and say, "Sweeter melodies", and we'll drive on in cozy silence.