Noise May 9 ’05
I used to be able to handle all kinds of noise ranging from background to someone shouting in my ear. The point about noise is it’s worst when you don’t want it or when it’s sharp and repetitive. It’s just repetitive stuff like Chinese water torture. It could be a dog barking, a clicking pen or a swinging door in the wind.
One of the worst noises is at the time you need some measure of quiet. When I lived in Tokyo it wasn’t the constant distant din that bothered me, but the occasional truck with magnified sound calling out for your old newspapers or screeching, “Hello, hello, this is Yamada of the LDP”, the Japanese way of political campaigning, in this case the Lib. Dem. Party. I remember on more than one occasion three of these political trucks converging and cancelling out each other’s messages, so it was cacophony. In some ways it was almost preferable to getting every word. I could meditate or read easily enough in the general hubbub of Tokyo but I was easily disturbed by sharp intrusive sounds above the white noise.
Noisy people are another thing. I always wonder what extra message they need to put across apart from the meaning in their words. It’s such a waste of energy using so much to put emphasis into agreement or disagreement when a simple “Yes” or “No” is quite clear enough. Empty barrels are everywhere but occasionally one meets a loud person who also has something useful to say. Then I wonder why so much noise trying to say something which would stand alone very well, thank you – please tone it down!
Then there’s the noise of too much talking. Some people have a way of being able to keep talking in a kind of monotone whereby you haven’t a chance of getting a word in, even if you were able to think of something to say, being so swept along by the other’s constant flow. Noise is the enemy of sleep, thought, conversation, good relations and peace of mind.
There’s another noise: it’s when you realise the acoustics are stuffed in the room with 10 people talking. Small room, high ceiling, no carpet and closed windows. You realise this when you can’t hear the person you’re a foot away from or when you start to twitch after 30 minutes or when you
go outside and the quiet is tangible.
Maybe it’s not so much the empty barrels that one meets from time to time full of all-knowing burble, maybe some of the blame for the situation must be taken by the person encountering such – we can’t relate to all people well all the time, it’s just not humanly possible. So what do we do when we come up against a noisy blowhard who tends strangely in this world to be American or Australian or Scottish, or maybe more likely they’re the ones I’ve encountered most. And yet I’ve met lots of people from these countries who are wonderful listeners and gentle speakers. What to do? Well, if anyone has any answers I’d love to hear them.
I dislike loud music where you can’t hear the words, but maybe that’s the point. Some people thrive on noise, the louder the better as if shouting at each other is fun. There’s a saying about some people just liking the sound of their own voices, which suggests annoyance at someone talking too much but may well be to do with the noise of being too loud at the same time. One person’s music is another person’s noise, of course. One has to accept differing tastes and styles. I am a Rock’n’Roll afficionado, often playing old Sixties hits … quite loudly!
Japanese people used to say that Arabs talk very noisily. I’ve heard some groups of Japanese people, especially older women and young people making a lot of noise, a kind of chirrupping like little birds or gobbling turkeys. It was probably better not to understand much of it.
Are there ever acceptable levels of noise? Perhaps in a classroom where some talking indicates participation. It’s good to be able to whisper a supportive line to another actor on stage. Of course, we know that a stage whisper can be heard by most of the audience. It makes me think of someone talking in a theatre or at a concert! Sir Alec Guinness once stopped a stage play he was in to ask a member of the audience to keep quiet. Colette wrote about children making a noise with whistles and drums. She also made the point about being able to tolerate the noise of a crowd but not the sound of one voice!
Way back in the early 1970s I flatted with a sweet-natured, sensitive lass who could not remember to walk quietly in the house after lots of requests when I was working or meditating. I finally had to show her what it was like one night by imitating the noise she made. Such was the realisation and embarrassment for her she had to go to the toilet! Then I felt bad. We remain good friends 40 years on though!
It could be said that noise enhances the appreciation of silence. Certainly when we become used to a noise, and it suddenly stops, we feel a special deep silence in comparison. I am not sure that such compensates for the annoyance of the outgoing noise.
It’s a double whammy: the noise is what we notice first and get upset by, then we detect what or who is making the noise. We get annoyed at both!
I think one of the worst noises is when the TV screen loses the picture and makes a harsh noise, so loud and invasive is it. Not to mention the loss of the good film or documentary I was watching.
“Noise stops words and meaning. Maybe that’s the beauty of noise for many people: no more words, no more thinking, no more meaning, no effort!”
The Chambers encyclopaedia tells me the French for “noise” is “bruit”; the Latin is “sonare” or “obstrepere”. It also mentions “visual noise”. I wonder if that’s also “white noise”.
It’s interesting we refer to distracting information or badly written stuff
as noise. I suppose the idea is it interferes with our thinking.
Then there’s what people say and how they couch it. Some people have no idea about evidence, how to relate and consider the other’s views or how to be interesting. It makes noise so much worse. A friend once said he would ban people uttering illogical stuff before accepting any of the fuss over where to smoke, where not to.