Silence Do Good

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My buddy Brian enjoying a quiet evening deep in the remote wilderness of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

Try not to hear anything. Seriously, give it a try. Try to hear absolutely nothing. Pure Silence. Not a single sound. It’s difficult, right? In fact, it’s so difficult that it’s nearly impossible.

A few days ago I was working hard at my computer editing videos for a client, then I heard the familiar churgling sounds in my stomach. It was time to take a break and eat lunch.

Normally I put one of my bluetooth earbuds into one ear and listen to a podcast or grab my iPad to watch a documentary while I prepare a meal. But this time, for whatever reason, I just walked into the kitchen and started making my lunch without grabbling any form of entertainment. Immediately I noticed sounds that I had muted for so long that I had almost forgotten them. The beep of the oven, the “thwang” of the pan, the “swoosh” of my socks across the hardwood floor, the crinkle of the cheese wrapper, the creak of the house and the list goes on. That’s when I realized that was the quietest it had been for me in a while. And then I realized that was the quietest it could get in my everyday life.

I tried for the next 10 minutes to be completely silent to see if it was possible to hear no sounds at all. I didn’t move. I heard a car go by the house. Then another. And another and another. The heater kicked off during its cycling process. The house creaked again. The hot baking sheet “thwanged” as it was cooling (good ol’ physics). Then I noticed my heartbeat. Then my breathing. My ears “crinkled” as I swallowed. This felt good. I may have failed in my experiment to find true silence by reducing all noises to zero. But I dialed down any external noises as much as I was able to control and found it to be pleasantly calming.

My mind started scrolling through memories of the many days and hours that I have spent in the mountains in Alaska. This little experiment reminded of one of the most greatest gifts that anyone can get in remote wilderness areas…..silence. Our modern world has lost nearly all of what would be considered true wilderness. By this I mean getting off the grid, so far away from roads, towns and cell phone towers that nobody can hear you tweet. The only sounds are naturally occurring ones. There’s nothing man-made creating any noise whatsoever.

I remember the first time I was dropped off in the Alaska wilderness. As the hum of the bush plane faded into the distance the first thing I noticed was the deafening lack of noise. It was honestly pretty unsettling at first. Up until that point my brain had never experienced that level of silence. I realized how vulnerable I was. But then I quickly felt a wave of relief crashing over me. I never knew how noisy my life had been.

Now fast forward 13 years since I first stepped foot in Alaska and I can honestly say that experiencing multiple consecutive days of silence is one of the main reasons I spend so much time in the wilds of the Last Frontier every year. My normal, modern American life is filled with noises all day long. There are so many noises all around us and it’s not even possible to turn them off. Even in the smallest of rural towns, we still largely live in communities with lots of machinery and many forms of digital technology. Our neighbors are just as busy as we are each and every day running the rat race with cars, phones, garbage trucks, airplanes and everything else that makes sound. Not even a trip to a designated wilderness area like a national park or a local hiking trail can guarantee a break from urban noise. Most of our outdoor spaces are often filled with people trying to escape their own hustle and bustle.

But there are a few truly remote places left on Earth that aren’t filled with noise pollution. The vast wilderness of Alaska is not only filled with some of the most stunning scenery in the world but it is home to one of the most rare and precious gems…..Silence with a capital ‘S’. Of course it isn’t completely quiet. The birds chirp, the wind whirls, the creeks babble. The sounds of nature are all around you but they are all that you will hear (and possibly the occasional hum of a bush plane overhead). But that’s it. No industrial sounds, no vehicle sounds, no smartphone notification pings. It’s a nice break from the constant bombardment of disruptive, arrhythmic noises that fill our tech-fueled daily lives.

On a final note, it’s worth mentioning that the more recent noise of social media is not only escalating but it’s becoming a serious problem. No, I’m not suggesting that we all delete our social media accounts. I use social media and enjoy the positive attributes of sharing my work to help promote my business and see what my friends are posting. But it’s the darker side of social media that has become quite problematic. I’m talking about the constant noise of partisan finger-pointing, echo chamber soap-boxing and cancel culture torch-bearing that fills our feeds every single day. This behavior is appalling and destructive. It’s nothing but noise and it’s worth avoiding. So whenever you find yourself getting sucked too far down the social media rabbit hole, I recommend that you just stop, turn off your phone and sit in silence. Better yet, go outside and go for a walk or run. Find the least noisy place that you can. You’ll always feel better for it.

Silence is necessary for a healthy brain and there is science to support this. Our minds are in a constant state of alert from the continuous onslaught of daily urban noise. We need a noise-free break every so often to recharge our batteries. Sitting in silence, particularly the quiet of nature, has a calming effect on the brain. Obviously, the more you do it the better. However, spending even a few quiet days in wilderness just once each year can have lasting positive effects on our mental and physical health.

I know what some of you are probably thinking, “Won’t I be bored?”. How could a life without Netflix, YouTube or Instagram not be boring, right? Trust me, once you are sitting on the ground, sipping hot coffee in the cool, crisp mountain air while watching the sun rise above the horizon, you won’t even think or care about anything else. Silence is the loudest sound you’ll hear and you’ll be happy for it.

Whatever Doesn't Kill you, Doesn't Kill You

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My buddy Brian Sachs “celebrating” another finished backpacking trip in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

One of the things I love so much about Alaska is that nothing is guaranteed here. There are so many variables involved in planning any trip that a lot of things can go wrong. As much as I want to be in control, Alaska always faithfully reminds that I’m not. Sure, I plan every detail of my trips meticulously. But once the plane lands and I step out into the wilderness I am quickly reminded that I can’t control everything. This is very humbling. And that’s a good thing.

As humans our brains are programmed to seek comfort as a means of survival. It makes sense. And through so many amazing advances in technology our modern lives are very comfortable. In fact, we’re so comfortable that we don’t need to struggle to survive on a daily basis the way that our ancestors did. All of these modern comforts and conveniences make survival much more certain so it should make us happier, right? Well, not exactly. The reason is that we humans have not only evolved to survive through seeking comfort, but we also paradoxically crave adventure. Why? Simply put, comfort feels nice but it is boring. We need excitement in our lives. With adventure comes uncertainty and discomfort. This challenges us to break out of our predictable behavioral patterns and try something new. We’re deliberately doing an about face and walking away from the protective environment that we’ve so carefully constructed to ensure our survival. It’s scary and that’s exciting!

To be blunt, we Westerners are living in a ‘Crisis of Comfort’. All of our technological advances have made life so much easier for us. Not that this is a bad thing. I’m so thankful for modern medicine, vehicles, airplanes, computers, phones and, most of all, my camera. Technology improves the quality of our lives, increases life expectancy and boosts our creative potential. But the negative consequence of technology making our lives so much easier is that it makes our too easy.

I have such fond memories of growing up as a kid in the ‘80s. Sure, I had technology for entertainment but nothing nearly as complex and advanced as what I have today. We had a tv and even got cable when I was about ten or eleven (which was pathetic by today’s standards). I eventually got an Atari and then the first version of Nintendo (both were embarrassingly pathetic compared to modern video games). And I even had a cassette tape player (remember those?). None of these devices was portable and the quality, although quite revolutionary for the time, was nowhere near as impressive as the little desktop and pocket-sized powerhouses that we have today. Don’t get me wrong, I looked forward to weekly sitcoms like Seinfeld, reveled in cracking the Contra game code “Up-Up-Down-Down-…..” on my Nintendo and played “Little Red Corvette” until the tape literally broke. <Sorry Gen Zers, you’ll have to Google those references> But my machine-based entertainment options were very limited compared to today. Heck, most of them were even analog. Digital technology was just starting to come onto the scene. Almost nobody had a computer yet. The internet was still being developed and wasn’t a thing yet. And smartphones were as futuristic as a hoverboard. Even cell phones were the size of a big black brick that only Gordon Gekko could afford. <Start Googling GenZers!>

As nostalgic as it is to take a walk down memory lane, I actually do have a point to make about all of this so let’s get to it. When I was a kid in the 80’s I had entertainment-based technology and I really enjoyed them. But options were very limited, devices were largely not portable and gratification was not so instantaneous. There was no streaming on Netflix or binge watching your favorite series. Want to make a music playist for your next roadtrip? Ha! That’s funny. You had to buy full cassette tapes (later DVDs) and then record or burn each individual song. This took a lot of time and effort and money. So I remember having to be a lot more creative back then. The limited technology I had for entertainment purposes was really fun to use but it wasn’t so effortless and endless as it seems to be today. I didn’t have a lot of options to choose from so I did a lot more reading than I do now (by that I mean books, with actual paper, and not swiping a digital screen). I actually built things to accessorize my G.I. Joe figurines and Matchbox cars. And I played outside and rode my bike a lot! Today, there are so many options that are readily available for relatively cheap prices. And the most important and powerful device that we all have fits right in our pockets. It takes almost no effort at all to find entertainment at all hours of the day no matter who you are or where you are in the world. And we never even have to leave our houses to find entertainment if we don’t want to.

Today we are all always connected to the digital world. The problem with this is that it requires us to disconnect from the physical world. And that’s not a good thing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my technology as much as anyone. I love my camera and my computer. I love my smartphone. I love streaming movies. I love listening to music and podcasts. I love bluetoothing. My iPad doesn’t suck. My wireless ear buds are a godsend. These are all really good things that I enjoy. But I inevitably find myself getting too much of these good things. I start feeling anxious and overwhelmed by constant digital stimulation. It’s so easy to be entertained whenever I want. There’s no challenge in it. It’s so darn easy, in fact, it becomes boring after a while. When I eventually catch myself picking up my phone and mindlessly swiping just for the swipe of it, I know it’s time. What time you ask? It’s time to go.

We all love nature. Why do you think so many tax dollars are spent on making city parks? For centuries cities have always carved out space for some green among the grey. Concrete certainly provides a more efficient surface for a sidewalk and bricks houses are much stronger than mud huts. But nothing beats a stroll through a green park full of trees and flowers for relaxing and clearing your head.

Whether it is simple hike on your neighborhood trail, a weekend camping trip or a a multi-day backpacking trip in the remote Alaska mountains, spending time in the outdoors is a fundamental part of being a human. We all love it. We all want it regardless of how advanced our technology gets. But the funny part of this is that going into the outdoors means inherently sacrificing some level of modernly fabricated comfort. It’s paradoxical that we would actively seek discomfort for pleasure. You can’t just tap and swipe your phone to get it. Actually spending time in nature means leaving your cozy house and stepping outside into the elements. It means walking on an uneven trail. It means unexpectedly running into a wild animal. This goes directly against any basic human survival instinct. As bizarre as it may seem, we all know that we enjoy being in the outdoors among the mountains, rivers, trees and wildlife. And we always feel better after spending time in nature.

Aside for the obviously beautiful scenery, I think the reason that nature is so therapeutic at relieving stress is that it revives a different kind of stress. This is a much more ancient, primal type of stress that is ignited by a heightened sense of survival. Consciously and deliberately leaving a protective technological cocoon tells the brain that it is no longer permitted to be on holiday anymore. The brain must actively engage with the outside environment at all times. No more mindless twitter scrolling. You are forced to be aware of every footstep. You’re constantly scanning your surroundings for signs of danger. You’re in state of stress but it’s a different kind of stress than being disappointed with how many likes you got on your last Instagram post. It’s a good kind of stress.

Disconnecting from the digital world forces us to reconnect with our natural world. And at the end of the day, whether you realize it or not, nature reminds you deep down that whatever doesn’t kill you, doesn’t kill you. And that’s way more gratifying than “Up-Up-Down-Down-…..” ever was.