I heard you and Krista Tippet today, and identified with your passion for silence. As a centering/contemplative pray-er, who lives in the noise (and light) pollution free Adirondacks, your passion for silence affirmed that I am blessed.

My home on Stillwater Reservoir, at the end of an eight mile dirt road, boasting the highest density of loons in the northeast, might just rival the Olympic penninsula. Come... hike, paddle and sit. God fills those who do.

[Sorry, the railroad went belly-up, soon after the 1980 winter Olympics.]

Living on the edge of the Boundary Waters National Park in Ely, MN, I grew up with many moments in the woods. Standing still on my cross country skis feeling the crisp air on my face, soaking in that odd cool lovely quietness- as parents and friends push on ahead. Very precious time with something even as a child I recognized as nourishing. Walks almost daily in summer vacation along the old train tracks, my mother, neighborhood friends, bird song, crickets, the sound of a hot summer day- that life that's there. When listening to the radio program, as I heard the infamous calls of loons accompanied by lush frog song I knew how very blessed I have been. Much of my life, even to this day is infused with loon call and frogs. If u haven't been camping in the boundary waters area, make time. The key- you need at least 5 days- it takes 4 days for your mind and psyche to unload its chatter... The experience you will start to have afterwards will forever change you. You will come closer to feeling what we are originally designed to feel. How to truly listen to life. Your awareness of all that is pulsing around you will finally have the opportunity to expand.

I happened upon this conversation this morning, and this was one of the most profound stories I've heard and listened to in a long long time. The author and this topic of silence is a new area of discovery for me so I will be listening and reading more very very soon. What touched me was the truth of Mr. Hempton's well-founded observations. As a former Benedictine monk, silence has remained important to me before my stay at the monastery, during and in the years since I've left that life. The opportunities for self-reflection, discovery and sharing with others has always been important for me personally in this crazy world with its overwhelming push for more noise, more distractions. Thank you for sharing this wonderful conversation with a very real prophet for our times. I'm looking forward to checking out the website, the books and audio tapes of this author and i thank you for such a marvelous hour this early Mother's Day morning.

Yes!
Recently in our yoga class we were asked to just sit and listen for a few minutes. Yoga listening, as in just be open to the sounds. Let them come in your ears, and be aware of them, but do not label, judge, go off thinking about them. I've meditated before, but it suddenly occurred to me that this must be the way traditional peoples listen. Modern hunters or even naturalists go into the woods to hear "something" . . . a particular animal moving, a bird call . . . Suddenly I imagined that people who are more in tune with their environment go out and listen. They are just open to it all as that's the only way you won't miss something. If you are trying to tune in on something, you're not aware of all the rest around you.
And this morning, you said it, Gordon Hempton. Awareness of the sounds and awareness of what we don't experience is important.

Now I'm listening to you about train sounds.
It reminds me that I enjoy hearing the sounds of someone chopping wood, spinning -- basically, at work. Repetitive sounds perhaps, but not mindless. A human hand is guiding the action and you can feel/hear that. It's quite satisfying.
And yeah, I sure love hearing trains . . .

I am a former Minneapolitan who moved to Asheville for reasons I didn't comprehend at the time but, post hoc, I realize that one of the main reasons was for quiet. In fact, the sound of an airplane now startles me; an amazing thing considering I used to live under two flight paths. Now what I hear where I live, 25 minutes outside of Asheville, is the sound of a creek, horses in the meadow across the creek, a pileated woodpecker, my neighbor's wolf/dog howling at night. I rarely hear the traffic on the main road which brings me here, hidden, as it is, behind a slight ridge.
But there is one kind of "silence" that I miss from the Twin Cities—the "silence" which happens when snow falls. There is a change in the sound of traffic, indeed, in all of the modern urban sounds. Perhaps it was only relative, but the silence which the snow brought was so beautiful, and so welcome (as was the silence which came for a few days one year when Northwest Airlines was being struck).

Gunilla Norris who is a psychotherapist and practitioner of meditation has said that both solitude and silence are endangered species. I totally agree. I have to run a fan at night because of a loud drone from a packaging plant close to where I live. Maybe I should get one of Gordon's albums and play it through ear buds instead! I am a musician and have sensitive hearing. I believe that silence is the creative ground of all music. Just as Taoism says that the space within 4 walls is what creates a room, silence is the space between the notes that creates a song. I also agree that people are afraid of silence. I live alone and often do not play music and have no TV. In silence, I find I am able to allow anything to emerge including facing my mortality, something many are afraid to do. I have also had the experience of sitting across from a person and looking at him for 5 minutes in silence. That was a deeply intimate experience. The question for me is simply what is everyone running from which silence and solitude allow us to embrace. I don't know the answer to that question. Perhaps other spiritual teachers do. I very much enjoyed hearing Gordon talk. He has a rare depth of insight into the intimate dance of sound and silence. Thank you SO much. It helped make my Sunday beautiful. Sincerely Robin Riebsomer

Excellent story. As a caver, I would submit that caves are one place that we have left that have a very long interval of silence. This is one of the reasons that we (cavers) so enjoy visiting such places. In a cave, one can experience silence so intense that it becomes audible and it presses in on one's ears. Visitors who are unaccustomed to such silence tend to giggle nervously in the silence. In addition to being silent places, caves are one place where we can escape from light pollution by experiencing total darkness. I would be interested to hear Gordon's comments and experiences about caves.

In the past, several years of volunteerism co-ordinating a watershed group culminated with two questions (of course leading to many others); How may the human advocate for nature gain momentum in the face of constant development? (my Mazon River is located in industrial agriculture anxious to sell off to development and near the path of the Transamerican Highway project) & Is there research to support the notion the range of nature's frequencies, particularly when a human is immersed in a biodiverse habitat, tune our chakras/clear our energy bodies? Could this information support preservation of wilderness?

I am truly touched as I am listening to your program right now with Christa Tippet. I live in Washington Heights, highest spot in Manhattan.People complain about sleeplessness. If it happens to me, I just enjoy listening. Night sounds. Cars, people, dogs, the traffic humming on the GW bridge. My favorite is the sound of the train whistle. Just like you say, it brings up images. I think about that distant lonely place some writers talk about, the childhood dreams and longings that whistle brought to them. Thank you.

I am back. Again listening to your show on "Silence" I am haunted once again by how your show seems to, well, not make any sense. How can one "record silence" How can "nature" be considered "silent"? I have been in some of the most remote places one can imagine and it is all one can do to fall asleep given the defining "noise of nature" In fact there is nothing "silent" at all about nature. Humans of course cause unbelievable "noise" but this is not always bad, the gentle drone of a distant locomotive when I was living in central rural Kansas was a sound that above most others, makes one feel the ultimate "aloness" and leads to introspection, self doubt, self awareness if you will. On a long driving trip, turn off the radio, put up the windows and sit listening only to the engine taking in what you pass. I know what he is trying to say...but there are many places in which one can feel these things.

Krista, Your show on the last quiet places was great! I think it matched my all time favorite of Rumi.

I did detect a moment where you might have given the author short Shrift. He laughed out loud about it because I'm sure he had to fly, drive and then hike to the lonely spot to get his recording and You said, Yeah, yeah we all know about that." and he just laughed. None of us know about what he is really talking about until we sit way out there some place in silence.

Thanks a really good interview. One with great ideas and recommendations. thanks Rick LaValley

A: Today's story with Gordon Hempton was nothing short of spectacular. A perfect blend of science and religion, history and future, fact and fictional backstories. I LOVE to listen to NPR and almost always find it interesting. But your piece on quiet and listening had me completely spellbound. Thank you for sharing Mr. Hempton's story. I just returned home yesterday from two days in Las Vegas, where it is impossible to find a quiet spot. Not in elevators, not in restrooms, not in hotel rooms, not even in the "relaxing" spas. It is constant over-stimlulation of noise. In that context I found today's broadcast even more interesting and pertinent. I am now making plans to go camping far out in the woods and look forward to hearing beautiful bird songs many miles away. Thank you again for a wonderful, peaceful story. Quietly, A.J. Bus頎ashville

Quite honestly, I feel like I have been on a quest for silence my whole life although I was born into a loud suburban city. As a child, I'd compulsively lock myself in a quiet place whenever I had the chance- at school or at home or wherever I was. I could feel the trepidation in my parents and siblings or my colleagues when they'd approach the silence I consistently tried to be one with. After spending time in quiet places, I can understand how my entire being can embody the silence. I believe we underestimate the power of the auditory sense. True sensitivity- the sensitivity of being alive, fully conscious- can only be touched when the channels to both silence and sound are open.

I decided to replace my usual music playlist with On Being for my run this morning. Initially, I thought this show was a little removed from my current reality. However, after settling into the peaceful nature of this conversation, I found my own quiet space in my run. The show and my run concluded at the same time. I found myself looking across the sky and feeling the beautiful presence of silence. Great show.

I listen to On Being podcasts while on long drives, and while many have transported me, and made the miles pass painlessly, this program gave such joy. I want to share it and send the link to friends, and will persist until I learn how to make that happen.

My husband and I listened to this halfway through a camping trip on the Olympic Peninsula. It inspired us to spend a second night in the Hoh rainforest just so we could take another early morning walk around the Hall of Mosses trail and really listen. Amazing!

In the show Krista and Dave talked about issue of loving human-made sound (trains). I think this video really illustrates some of that - our work and movement and words as music and rhythm, and how beautiful they can be. Interesting how they are so simple, and often built on a blank, or near blank, canvas of quiet. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVPLIuBy9CY&feature=player_embedded#!

Gordon Hemptom has great neural wifi. I could feel it in his voice. I could see it in the way my student worker stood next to my desk to do her work--which she's never done before. She couldn't hear what he said, but she could feel his energy, his frequency passing through me. She's normally quite distracted and giggly. Not today. I"ve seen the parrots in my aviary respond the same way when I'm plugged into my Ipod. They like the emotion passing through. They dance and squeal even though I'm the only one listening to the music. And then when I transfer the sound to the speakers for them but just sit there quietly to see what they'll do. They follow me and stay still.

I'm handfeeding my new 24 year old cockatoo to get him to bond with me, As he gets full, he mimics a Roosevelt Elk. That's it! It's not a whale song, it's an elk! I guess you have to hear it to believe it!

I sent a link to this show to my dad (and all my friends on Facebook). He's the one that taught me to listen to the silence. He also helped me see it's the emptiness you create that allows the whole world to blossom. Thanks so much for putting these ideas into words ... and sounds. Totally gave me the chills.

Recently I returned to port Townsend Washington after living on Kauai for two years. I have delightedin listening to your interview with Krista Tippet as I enjoy the quiet of my yard near Fort Warden State Part. While listening to you Hoh Rainforest recording yesterday I placed this I pad on my chest while ffully enjoying the sunshine on my lounger. Suddenly a Coopers Hawk darted
At me and looked at me square in the eye about one foot from my face fluttering for a few seconds. I wonder if there was a call from a Coopers hawk in this recording that summoned my startled visitor?

I will take a trip to t he Hoh Rainforest before summers end and thank you Gordon for the inspiration!

During the years of being a parent, I first discovered the necessity for silence, which allowed me to quiet my nerves and clear my mind that made it possible for me to relax. But I really began to appreciate the greater potential of living in silence
when I was a marine life artist/scuba diver from 1972 - 2006.

The ever-present sound of rhythmic breathing becomes white noise while the sounds of the current rustling algae or seaweed and animals (fish and invertebrates) filter through. The visual world of quiet colors including the vibrant colors of soft corals and other animals are softened add to the calming of the soul. When returning to the topside from that environ, I found myself searching for compliments to that experience. No longer a diver, my art is focusing on searching the depths of sights in my earthly environs that includes static structures. The joy from within has grown as I take time to reach within for expression in my art. Even when I'm struggling to grow in that area, silence helps me be in touch with my individual expression.

I look forward to On Being each week and it broadens my perspectives of the soul and the world.

I too loved this interview with Gordon Hempton, I have listened to it twice and will do so again. I am an introverted individual, and like others who have replied here, I often stay in my home with no other sounds. I did not own a TV after I left home until I was 29 and then I never hooked it up to the outside world. I had no desire to let the cacophony there inside my home. I love music and listen to it often, but many times I sit and read, or look out into the countryside in silence.
I was in the Air Force for 20 years and you can imagine the noise on an air base. Now, I am retired and live in the countryside of Northern Nebraska. My closest neighbor is a quarter mile away. I love the quiet here that lets me hear the rustle of small birds in the leaves, or the chirp of a lone cricket. I also love the unlit nights where I can see the Milky Way stretching all the way across the horizon.
In my life I have been many things and one of them is a caver and there is nowhere I have ever been that is more quiet, so quiet that I have actually heard my own heart beat, so I guess only the dead could ever achieve absolute silence. I used to clamber deep into the musky earth, wending through narrow passage that twisted and turned, and once I'd found the right place, I'd lay down on the ground and turn out the lights. The darkness and silence are both as complete as nature can create. There, wrapped in a cocoon of silent darkness. I would let my mind settle, like sediment in a puddle, until a clarity came upon me that was achievable no where else. Then I would just "be" for awhile and let the rest of the world rush by overhead.

Listened to this show last Saturday on my way to Canada to visit my fiance. Yesterday we were at Cameron Lake in Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta, and we heard an elk calling through the forest! I never would have known what that amazing sound was had it not been for this show. We were enjoying the quiet of the wind rustling the yellowing leaves on the aspens, soaking in the sun-filled air in that majestic place. OnBeing podcasts have deepened my understanding of an appreciation for the connections between science and transcendence. Thanks!