I can’t find my quiet. I lost it someplace. It’s not hearing loss I’m hoping for. It’s not “go away noise” I want. I only want a place where it’s quiet.

I’m asking for the impossible in a county with onepointfivemillion people and eighthundredthousand cars. There is no hope from the descent of our lawn care crew on Wednesday mornings.

I want to hide under a boulder where where is no sound, no noise (I will not mention the “N” word again). Wearing ear protectors is uncomfortable. One small moment of quiet peace is too much to ask for. “Go someplace quiet” you suggest. I have no reason to complain. I chose an unquiet place.

Nature quiet is not what I’m talking about. The rustle of dry, tan beech leaves still attached to branches is OK. I can deal with that kind of quiet. In fact, drowned out natural sound is the norm. I have to listen through the fog of human sounds to eke out the faded out sound of the ruffle of a rapids on the Brandywine River in Pennsylvania.

Quiet is not the absence of sound. I listen to quiet. I hear quiet. Interruptions of quiet help me appreciate quiet. I frequently close my eyes while listening in hopes that I will hear more. I believe this is the consequence of hearing loss. I become still in order to hear still. This is not a rant. This is a desire. Must I enter a monastery? Need I sequester myself in a sound-proof booth for a hearing test? No. No. No. If I had complete silence, I’d go nuts wanting some “N”. I have to imagine quiet.

Sometimes I’ll hear someone say “It’s too quiet.” Some people are actually afraid of quiet. They got this way because they have few quiet experiences. Quiet is endangered. Try finding it among ninebillion planetary neighbors. I desire Earthquiet, not humanquiet. Yet Earth has her surprises. Avalanches, volcanic explosions, tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes and tornadoes, a falling redwood tree, howl of a coyote at night, crickets in an October dusk; a torrent of rain falling on bedrock.

Sunday mornings; Christmas and New Years Day; these are times when quiet is possible. Sitting in a pew in a church works sometimes. I have to work for my quiet. “SAY SOMETHING !” “Please destroy this quiet. I must stay connected to the human voice. Please give me a call …any time.”