“The signal is the truth. The noise is what distracts us from the truth. ”
Our world is saturated with human made noise. From the hum of the refrigerator to the sounds of cars and airplanes, the cacophony of the modern world is almost inescapable.
Much of this noise is unnecessary. For example, many cars honk each time they are locked or unlocked. On most cars that can be disabled but few people take the trouble to do it. Or perhaps they like the honking.
I’ve been in doctor’s waiting rooms where up to three different individuals were listening to some kind of programming on their phones with the speaker blasting at full volume, or having loud public phone conversations. Simple wired earbuds can be had for just a few dollars.
As I write this piece in a relatively quiet vacation rental I still hear traffic sounds, an airplane, the ticking of a clock, and the churning of the dishwasher.
Once you notice how noisy the world is, you can’t un-hear it (you’re welcome).
So, if you have a chance to escape the din for a moment or two, you must take a moment to notice and savor it.
I had an opportunity to be in such a place this past week but it wasn’t easy to get to.
The Adirondack State Park in the northeast corner of New York State is the largest state park in the U.S. other than those in Alaska. The park is partly developed but it has some large tracts of complete wilderness as well. Much of this wilderness contains the High Peaks, a group of 46 mountains each of which is more than 4,000ft/1,300m above sea level. Barbara and I decided to climb one of the more remote peaks called Seymour Mountain.
In order to get to the base of Seymour, we had to drive 40 minutes from Lake Placid to the tiny town of Corey, N.Y. From there you turn down a country road which eventually becomes unpaved. Then it’s another 5 miles of gravel to get to the trail head. After parking and signing in at the register (safety!), you hike about 6 miles on a marked trail to arrive at the base of the mountain. The trail to the summit is unmarked and the place at which you turn off the main trail is marked only with a pile of rocks called a cairn.
The ‘herd path,’ created by thousands of hikers having gone before, passes through dense woods but is easy to follow. The trail ascends along a brook to gain about 2,000ft/660m of elevation over the course of about 1.5 miles/2.4km to reach a viewless summit among thick trees.
Somewhere along this ascent, I paused to give my pounding heart a respite. Barbara was a few hundred feet ahead, and as the panting of my breath began to still, I slowly became aware of the quiet. Not a lack of sound. The forest was filled with birdsong, insect noise and the burbling of the creek. But not a human sound to be heard save the beating of my own heart. No airplanes, no cars, not even the footsteps of another person.
I tried to recall the last time I was in such a place. It may have been when I was in these woods two years ago. How many more times will I have the privilege to stand somewhere like this? How can we hope to remain tuned to the signal when we dwell among constant human noise? And the noisiest place of all? It may be your own mind.
The world’s a narrow bridge; fear nothing.