The Driving Silence

I love music. I've got months of music in my iTunes library. I love audio books. I've got weeks worth from Audible.com. I love This American Life. I've got days worth split up between various computers and iPods. And I love news radio—actual news radio, this time, not Newsradio the fantastically under appreciated TV sitcom from the late 90s—and listen to it in the car and streaming at the office…when I'm not listening to any of the other previous forms of audio distraction. Wait, did I mention podcasts? Add those to the list, too.

At work I'm surrounded by layers upon layers of sounds—noise, really—so I wear my headphones. In the car, I use the radio to mask the noise of the rough and ragged asphalt blurring underneath me. The louder the better. If you can't feel it, it's not loud enough, but I'm always conscious to make sure my audio is not infringing on the environment of other people.

It's been this way as long as I can remember. That is until recently. My car has become a sanctuary for thought and reflection in the past couple months. You know the saying, "I can't even hear myself think!" Well, it turns out it's true. All the sonic submersion was taking time away from brain cycles that needed to be spent confronting issues and challenges in my life.

One day on the way home from work I plugged my iPod into the car dock like I've done every time I've planted my tuckus in the bucket seats, but after starting my car, I paused and then turned off the car's stereo. I put the car in gear and then set out for 40 odd minutes of commuting and contemplation. By the time I pulled into my driveway, it felt as though some of my synapses had been dusted off, and while I had far from figured out how to resolve the issues weighing on my conscious, the progress was evident. The next morning I repeated the mute commute.

Now it's a common practice that anytime I'm feeling bogged down with work or relationship uncertainties, I turn off the radio and tune into my inner voice and get to work finding the hard to hear answers that have been lost under the white noise of life.

These days, I drive in silence a lot.