Does Silence Come From Without?

...and how do we react to it?

Silence itself has no sound. It is, by definition, the absence of sound waves of any sort. Our experience of silence, however, is remarkably complex and surprisingly rich, filled with bodily ‘noise,’ environmental sounds, and psychological connotations. The ways we react to silence (and to noise) can have a remarkable impact on the quality of our lives. Some people are highly sensitive to noise, and some are not. I am, unfortunately, one of the sensitive ones.

Grappling with the notion of ‘silence’ has been a sort of hobby of mine for years. I grew up in the suburbs of larger cities, where noise wasn’t as concentrated, but there was enough to remind one that they lived amongst quite a few people. Moving to ‘multiple unit’ settings (e.g., dorms, large apartment buildings, small apartment buildings) quickly reminded me that ‘silence’ was a relative concept (and quite possibly culturally influenced).

I lived for many years at a university-sponsored cooperative housing unit, a remarkably economic place to live. Residents were tasked with maintaining the premises and conducting activities in support of daily living, like working in the large kitchen during meals, keeping the public areas and bathrooms clean and safe, doing certain kinds of repairs, and performing general office duties. In exchange, the quarterly rent that we paid was roughly half of what the dorms cost.

Everyone worked four hours a week at something. In exchange, we got room and board (nineteen meals a week, unlimited tea and coffee, occasional snacks for holidays, and plated dinners set aside for those who would be coming home late). The rooms all had adequate furniture, although you could bring your own if you wanted. Friday nights were movie nights. Once a quarter there was a ‘talent’ show. With enough ‘seniority’ one could get a private room (still shared bathrooms, but still). Given all of that, it should have been nearly ideal – except for the noise!

The building, all concrete and steel, was built around an open central atrium and echoed like a giant construction project. All the doors, including the bathroom doors, consisted of large slab-style fire-doors, with another fire-door at the end of each hallway into the atrium. The hinges were not self-closing, and the hallways were kept empty for safety. Depending on what side of the building you lived on, if you left your window open when you opened or closed your door, the air currents would catch the door and blow it shut. (Are we starting to see the problem?)

I lived there for six years (most of undergrad and into grad), and in all that time, I don’t think I ever once got a full night’s sleep. Many of my fellow ‘Co-opers’ came from backgrounds where noise was just part of life; for them, slamming doors were nothing, at any time of the day or night. Sometimes, people would get phone calls and didn’t want to disturb their roommates, so they’d go out and talk in the hallways, which were just big echo chambers. And of course, there were the usual spirited high jinks that accompany groups of youthful individuals.

I tried everything to block out the noise: I put weatherstripping around the door jamb of my own door; I glued insulated cork panels to the walls against the hallways; I tried white-noise machines, which just made things seem noisier; I appealed directly to all of my hall-mates, most of whom looked at me incredulously, agreed to try harder, then slammed their doors in my face; I bought every kind of earplug and noise-canceling device I could find. Nothing helped.

I got the idea once to try to mediate some of the noise from a particular hall-mate’s continuous slams. I bought a few of those big pink erasers and sliced them up into thin pieces, then I super-glued them along the inside edge of the door jam, which worked nicely because the door did not fit ‘snugly.’ I had a few days of relative peace before that tenant discovered the little rubber pieces and ripped them all off, leaving eraser crumbs all over the hallway floor.

I eventually moved out of the Co-op and into my own apartment, which was a blessing and which I am convinced actually helped me to finish my studies. No other students in the building, just me; the tenants were mostly older adults with jobs and schedules and a desire for quiet time. If anything, I was the noisy one. I was on the top floor, with only four apartments per floor, twelve total. The relatively noise-free environment seemed almost daunting at first, but I quickly relished it. Turning down the noise level on the outside helped me to turn down the noise inside as well.

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This week’s Reflection:

January 12, 2026

Quote: “Listen to silence. It has so much to say.” — Rumi

A Reflection: Silence speaks in subtleties. Slow down enough to notice what it’s been trying to tell you.

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