My sister Janet gave me a small device that played the sounds of rain, the ocean, or of white noise while sleeping.
“White noise? That sounds racist!” my friend joked this evening as I was telling him about it. I immediately thought of when I was in sixth grade and my teacher told me to go to the supply closet to get “white colored paper” and how my head about exploded on the spot. I went on to explain to my friend why I needed the noise.
“I’d had it in my closet in my apartment. I didn’t use it much when I lived back on the farm but here…” I paused. “Here, with the loud college guys next door and the, uh, amorous couple that lives below me, I use it every night. I can’t block out all the noise and sleep otherwise. I go to sleep with the sound of beach waves. It’s quite nice, actually.”
White noise blocks and masks sounds. It is a sound of nothing, if nothing had sound. It covers over other noise.
I can’t decide about the level of white noise in my life. Am I facing the reality of who I am and what’s going on, or am I covering it over? I often catch myself daydreaming about things that aren’t, or focusing on something else to distract. I have a sense of when the white noise is shut off, and that usually is exhibited when my eyes tear up at inopportune moments, and a bit of reality makes it through to the surface.
But I can’t cry all the time.
Either way, it’s noise.
Related Posts:
{ 1 trackback }
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I’ve used a variation of white noise most of my life, by using a simple fan–or better–an oscillating fan that whirs subtly in the background while I drift off to sleep. I’ve tried the environmental CDs–Caribbean Surf, Rain Forest, and Distant Thunder sounds, but my fav is the fan. Give it try if you have one. Set it on low and see if it helps. I’ll comment separately on the other topic.
Once, on a business trip, I stayed at a hotel on the beach near Melbourne, Fla. I left my balcony sliding door open so I could hear the surf, thinking it would lull me to sleep. About halfway through the night I gave up and shut the door — the surf was too noisy and was keeping me awake.
Regarding the white noise of life, you’re right. We can’t cry all the time. A little white noise to drown out the painful noise is sometimes just the ticket.