Disturbances (Jackpot January #11)

Even in the country, silence is not silence.

Wait until nightfall. Close your curtains. Turn off every light in your house or flat. Check that everyone else is asleep. Sit on the edge of your bed, lean forwards, and wait for silence. What do you notice?

Prisoners in solitary confinement are sight-and-soundproofed. All stimuli are absent to the greatest extent possible. In less than half a day, the mind makes things for them to hear, see, and feel. They hallucinate the wildest scenes, both from their own lives and from lives that bear no relation to them. Stimulation is a necessary condition for our sanity. Existence requires sensation.

So, tilted forward on the end of your bed, eyes shut tight, can you hear anything even in the dead silence? Are there the tiniest sounds, the creak of a floorboard, the small hiss of a boiler, an animal shuffle somewhere across the street? Are the noises there, have they always been there, or did you make them up? Your mind has started to invent.

Even if these noises are in your head, they are no less real to you. If the human mind needs something but has nothing, it invents.

True stillness, therefore, is impossible. In our calmest moments we may believe we love routine and shrink from disturbances. In truth, we live on the edge of disruption, and spend every moment waiting for another piece of life to flash before our eyes.