The Sound of Silence is an iconic song of the 60s by the folk-rock duo Simon and Garfunkel. While listening to the song the other day, I began to think about the deep sense of refuge I have always found in silence and how the silent Buddhist retreats that were a regular part of my life in the early 2000s transformed me. I became curious about the impact of silence and sound on the brain and thought it’d be a good sequel to the last two articles on shamatha and vipassana meditation. This is not an insignificant topic, especially considering that humans lived for 250,00+ years in relative silence until the advent of the Industrial Revolution in the mid-eighteenth century, which is barely a fraction of humanity’s lived experience. And while the nervous system has had over two centuries to habituate to living with constant noise, studies show that the brain benefits greatly from silence. For example, the nervous system can achieve more profound relaxation with absolute silence versus listening to relaxing music, and studies with mice have shown that the brain can grow new neurons -a process known as neurogenesis- in the hippocampus in absolute silence (Dr. Chris Niebauer, PhD). The hippocampus is the part of the brain where new memories are formed, which has important implications for our capacity to form and store memory.
In 1859, the British nurse and social reformer Florence Nightingale wrote, “Unnecessary noise is the most cruel absence of care that can be inflicted on sick or well,” and although it may appear exaggerated, modern research tends to confirm her ideas on the importance of silence for healing (https://nautil.us/this-is-your-brain-on-silence-235023/). This Nautilus magazine article goes on to explain the physiology of noise, “The cochlea converts physical vibrations into electrical signals that the brain receives. The body reacts immediately and powerfully to these signals, even in the middle of deep sleep. Neurophysiological research suggests that noises first activate the amygdalae, clusters of neurons located in the temporal lobes of the brain, associated with memory formation and emotion. The activation prompts an immediate release of stress hormones like cortisol. People who live in consistently loud environments often experience chronically elevated levels of stress hormones”. This is a science perspective, but our own lived experience confirms it, as when we take a hike on a secluded trail in nature with only the occasional sound of birds or leaves being rustled by a light breeze. Even without absolute silence, the replacement of artificial noise with natural sounds is already deeply soothing and regulating the nervous system.
On the most basic level, intentionally creating brief silent spaces throughout the day can be very beneficial, as it has been shown that just two minutes of silence can activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which slows heart rate and reduces cortisol levels. Even if absolute outer silence cannot be achieved, you can try minimizing external sound as much as possible as you simultaneously create inner silence through either shamatha or vipassana meditation. There is no need to “sit formally” in meditation. As you advance in meditation practice, a short 2 to 3-minute session can be accessed anywhere; turning inward towards the breath or completing a quick body scan becomes second nature.
On a more adventurous level, there is an interesting practice that I’m currently trying out for the first time. It’s called “silencing to the silence”. Ancient Buddhist texts say that Guanyin, the goddess of compassion who dwells on an island off the coast of Shanghai, “listened to the sound of the waves washing up against the rocks on the shore. As Guanyin became fully absorbed in listening to the waves as they rose and splashed against the rocks, then receded into silence, rose and receded again, rose and receded, every sound eventually became silent as it reached Guanyin’s ears” (https://tricycle.org/magazine/listening-to-silence/). In other words, you listen without attachment to the sound or the silence or to the contrast between the two. I’m sitting in a hotel room right now, with no sound except for the passing cars in the busy street below, the occasional airplane, and the sound of my keyboard as I type. I bring the awareness inward, connecting with my breath, but without losing the focus of what I’m writing. I avoid ignoring or suppressing the external noises; instead, I listen to them, avoiding any reaction. To my surprise, I’m realizing that the noise pollution is much higher than I had perceived it for the last week. This is the first time I noticed the planes above, although we’re quite close to the airport. And the noise is not occasional; it is frequent!
Much like vipassana, where we scan the body and just notice without reaction or judgment, I find that listening to sounds is a similar experience of “just noticing.” Unlike Guanyin, we don’t always have the constant natural sound of waves hitting the rocks and retreating, where you can find a rhythm to the sounds of nature that do not exist with man-made machinery. I feel uncertain that I would ever find a place where there is “no sound” in traffic or airplane noise, but there is a benefit in just noticing without judging or becoming annoyed. Listening in this way, I became quite relaxed last night and then fell asleep. As I woke this morning, it felt like I was much more aware of the different sounds that I somehow managed to tune out during the week. I tried a few minutes of vipassana meditation, but instead of scanning my body, I scanned the sounds coming from outside, just noticing. It was not distracting or annoying, but quite relaxing. I started to notice even more sounds than I thought possible, eventually getting a sense of the sound of things as they entered my ears. During moments when the noise went down, I did not feel a reprieve or a sense that the silence was better because I was committed to “just notice.” It would be spectacular to try this in a secluded space in nature, just noticing the sounds of birds, leaves, and maybe the footsteps of the occasional hiker. Whether in a busy city street or in the woods, yoga is always available to us, as in the union of body, mind, and spirit. Opportunities for mindful living are everywhere, and I feel a new sense of appreciation for the yoga potential of not-so-perfect silence!
Read Dulce Garcia Morman’s article Vipassana Meditation Unveiling the Illusion in The Eden Magazine blog.
by Dulce Garcia Morman, Ph,D.
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