Silence

Silence in Yosemite

 Where do you go for silence?

The forest was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. Yosemite Valley was blanketed in a heavy layer of freshly fallen snow. A sound buffer had fallen on the valley, and we were the only human beings to venture forth that morning – such a rarity in Yosemite where the voices of fellow travelers mingle with the wind, with thundering falls, with birdsong. But this day was different.

 

I pulled on snow boots, parka, hat, gloves, and sunglasses. The sun was out. The snow was deep. And I could feel the cold through my parka. We walked from the lodge where we had breakfasted, out onto the nearby meadow. The forest was quiet except for the occasional plop of snow that hit the ground with a soft thud. Even the birds were quiet. You notice things you might not otherwise notice in the hush that follows a snowstorm.

 

I began photographing. The click of my tripod seemed loud in the silence. The soft click of the shutter even stood out in this kind of silence. I grew quieter as the morning wore on. I leaned into the photography a bit more. I wandered a little deeper into the forest. I breathed a deep sigh.

Wandering a Little Deeper

 

I set my tripod aside and just looked at the area. Dark tree limbs lined with snow formed a pattern I had not seen before. I wondered how to photograph that sight with the jumble of trees all around. It was impossible to isolate one tree. I walked out of the trees, surveying the valley floor. The hush was incredible. I wondered how to photograph that hush.

Silent Symphony

The snow was nearly to the top of my boots. I was joyous in this silent symphony. The quiet was invigorating, enlivening my senses. My heart began to awaken. I found myself in a world of wonder that was impossible to photograph because the wonder began with the silence, was nurtured by the silence. The way back was quiet. Only the quiet crunch of snow beneath our feet could be heard.

Iced Pond

We took a drive through this winter wonderland. Fog enshrouded the higher cliffs – more quiet. An iced pond all alone, waiting for the sun again, sat silently at the edge of the forest. Bridal Veil was a wisp of a fall but her cliffs were laced in white where snow and ice had frozen together and long icicles caught the drop of anything that melted. Half Dome sat silently victorious in the sun, caked in snow that would not melt for a long time.

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The Heavens Above

It was two in the morning. We were stargazing and photographing up on the Modoc Plateau. The last of our fellow Astro-photographers had gone to bed. My husband and I were alone underneath a canopy of stars that would take your breath away. The coyotes were heard in the distance from time to time, but otherwise the world was quiet. The occasional hum of the telescope mount as it slew into a new position soon faded back into the silence.

Can You Find The Big Dipper?

What a trip it is to see the stars – so many more that you can imagine – all rolled out across the heavens. At about two in the morning, if you look up for awhile, you can sometimes see the dome of the heavens move lower and hover just overhead. It is an astounding experience! The stars look so close that you would think you could just reach up and touch them. Perhaps it is the falling temperatures at that hour, perhaps the visual distortions that occur when sleepy brains stare into infinity.

But perhaps the most remarkable thing about these moments is the deep silence that accompanies as the heavens descend. Perhaps we notice it most just then. We pull our attention away from the myriad steps of astrophotography and give ourselves over to the silence and beauty overhead. We become receivers of gifts. We become quiet in the innermost part of our being.

Silence is part of being alive. In our civilized world, moments of silence are rare for we are busy with ourselves, our lives. But once in a while, we are given the gift of silence. Rather than having to block out the onslaught of noises in our world, we are given a chance to open up to the quiet, to the hush. With it, we are given the opportunity to experience life in ways we have not experienced it before. We see what we have not seen before. We hear what is missing. There is a softness to silence. There is a symphony that can play through our other senses.

 

Those other senses through which a symphony can play include our emotional hearts. Periods of silence such as I have described above carry feelings of gratitude, awe, wonder, being part of something that is so much bigger than ourselves. We feel a sense of grandeur, hope for humanity, generosity, and emotion so complex we sometimes cannot define it. So we say we love what is happening, what we are seeing or experiencing, this magnificent universe. We say this because we want to put into words something that is numinous.

What do we mean by numinous? Well, I’ll tell you. Numinous is when you feel a connection to the divine. Numinous is that sense of sacredness. Numinous is a sense of the spiritual qualities of life. Numinous is what we can feel in silence.

Why? I’ll tell you why. Sound has a huge impact. Sound is vibration. We are made to seek that which vibrates. The human brain is wired for music, complex vibration. So when sound is missing, we go seeking vibration in other forms: feeling, wonder, love, light. These form the experiential basis of the spiritual qualities in life.

Numinous Universe

Where do you go for silence?

What do you experience when it is silent?

Does it quiet you in the innermost part of your being?

What senses does it open up for you?

Do you encounter aspects of the numinous?