Photo by Ciocan Ciprian on Pexels
Written By Ian Yu
I love listening to music. That’s why I listen to it every chance that I get.
My commute to and from classes is almost never free of music. Never do I leave the house without my headphones, and discovering that I forgot to charge them is always a tragedy; if not for my playlist, what else do I have to entertain myself on the way home?
Often, if I don’t have to get my hair wet, I’ll bring my headphones into the shower. I’ll listen to music as I wash my face and brush my teeth. I’ll mouth the words as I practice problems or make slideshow presentations. I’ll bob my head as I walk across campus, instrumentals guiding my steps and lyrics filling the spaces in between. It begs the question: when am I not listening to something?
When it’s not music, it’s a YouTube video, and when it’s not a YouTube video, it’s an Instagram reel. One day, when I had committed to brushing my teeth in silence, I started thinking about the lack of silence in my life. I thought about how sudden realizations about commitments I had or outstanding tasks rarely came when I was stimulating myself with music.
Which led me to think: if lyrics or commentary or gameplay or instrumentals constantly flood my mind, when do I have the time or bandwidth to ponder? To recall my day? To let my mind wander? To create rather than consume? To critique my own behaviour?
Silence is a simple thing, but it’s all too easy to lose in today’s world. Whenever we are on our phones, we are almost constantly bombarded with information, visuals, and noises, all vying for our attention. On our end, however, that is a very curable, very preventable ailment.
Coming to this realization, I’ve been trying to sit with my thoughts more.
Embracing silence is a seemingly passive action, but I believe that it’s what I, and what others in a similar position, might need. If it’s not music or other content, perhaps it’s being busy with schoolwork, sports commitments, or anything else that requires mental bandwidth.
Let this be a reminder to slow down and let your mind consciously wander. Perhaps, sometimes, all you need is just to listen to the sounds of the bus’s mechanical hum and the splattering of falling water. It is these sounds that ground us to reality, bidding us to bask in the little time we have in the present, inviting us to let our minds wander, if only for a moment.