I Didn't Realize How Much Noise I Was Living With Until I Found Quiet

I've been thinking about how much noise we allow into our lives without even realizing it.

And I'm not just talking about loud music, traffic, televisions, or somebody having an entire conversation on speakerphone in public. Although, we really do need to discuss that last one.

I'm talking about the kind of noise that follows you around even when everything is technically quiet.

The unfinished tasks running through your head, the conversations you keep replaying, the notifications, the responsibilities, and the constant feeling that there's something you should be doing.

I've noticed that sometimes I can be sitting in a perfectly quiet room and still feel like there's a whole lot going on.

It's interesting because I've always enjoyed having time to myself. I love being able to think, create, read, or simply enjoy my surroundings without somebody interrupting me every five minutes. But lately I've been paying more attention to the difference between being alone and actually experiencing quiet.

Because apparently those are two very different things.

The Noise We Get Used To

I think we underestimate how much information we're processing throughout the day.

Before we've even gotten out of bed, some of us have already checked our messages, looked at the news, scrolled through social media, and started mentally preparing for everything we need to accomplish.

Then we go about our day answering questions, making decisions, navigating traffic, listening to conversations, and trying to remember the things we forgot to write down.

By the time we finally get home, turning on the television or picking up our phones almost feels automatic.

And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with watching television or enjoying social media. I do both. Sometimes I want to watch something funny, eat my food, and mind my business.

But I've started wondering how often we reach for another distraction simply because we're uncomfortable with having nothing going on.

I've caught myself doing it.

I'll have a few minutes to sit down and immediately think of something I could be working on. A book, my website, a new idea, or something around the house that needs attention.

It's almost like my brain sees an empty space on the calendar and decides we need to fill it.

Meanwhile, I'm the same person talking about wanting a peaceful life.

Make that make sense.

I Started Paying Attention to How My Environment Feels

One thing I've learned about myself is that my surroundings matter more than I used to realize.

I enjoy having a space that feels comfortable, welcoming, and personal. I like my colors, my textures, my plants, and the little things I've collected or created that make a room feel like mine.

I'm not interested in having a home that looks like nobody lives there. I want to actually enjoy being in it.

And I've noticed that the atmosphere of a room can influence how I feel while I'm spending time there.

Sometimes it's something as simple as cleaning up, opening the curtains, or turning off a television that's been playing in the background for hours.

Other times I want to hear water, rain, or the sound of my singing bowls.

There's something about being intentional with what I hear that makes me more aware of everything else going on around me.

When I'm listening to water, for example, I can hear the different ways it moves. Sometimes it's gentle, sometimes it's rushing, and sometimes there's a rhythm to it that I wouldn't have noticed if I were distracted.

I like that.

It gives me something to pay attention to without demanding anything from me.

How My Singing Bowls Changed the Way I Listen

When I first became interested in crystal singing bowls, I was drawn to their sound. I loved how a single note could continue ringing long after the bowl had been played.

But the more time I've spent practicing and recording, the more I've started paying attention to what happens between the sounds.

The beginning of a note, how it changes, how long it lingers, and eventually how it fades.

I never expected listening to become such a big part of creating music.

Sometimes I'm so focused on getting a recording right that I have to remind myself to enjoy what I'm doing. I'll think about microphone placement, background noise, the length of a recording, and whether everything sounds the way I imagined it.

Then I remember that I started doing this because I genuinely enjoy the experience.

Not because I wanted another complicated project.

I wanted to create something peaceful.

That's part of what inspired Garden Frequencies, the sound experience I'm developing through Self Care Swank. I want to create opportunities for women to slow down and spend a little time listening without feeling pressured to accomplish something.

I'm still learning about sound, experimenting with recordings, and discovering what I want my work as a sound artist to become.

And I actually enjoy being a student of something again.

There's so much to explore when you stop treating every new interest like something you have to master immediately.

Quiet Doesn't Mean Everything Has to Be Silent

Something else I've been thinking about is that peace and silence aren't necessarily the same thing.

I can sit beside moving water and feel peaceful even though the water is making plenty of noise. I can listen to music, hear birds outside, or enjoy the sound of rain against a window.

Those aren't silent experiences.

But they don't feel demanding either.

I think that's the distinction I've been trying to understand.

Some sounds are simply part of an environment, while others constantly compete for our attention.

And sometimes the problem isn't the volume of what's happening around us. It's how many things are asking us to respond.

A phone can be completely silent and still feel noisy when you know there are messages waiting for you.

A room can be quiet while your mind is busy worrying about tomorrow.

And a house can be full of activity without necessarily feeling overwhelming.

I've been learning that creating a peaceful environment isn't always about eliminating sound. Sometimes it's about becoming more selective about what I allow to occupy my attention.

That includes conversations, commitments, entertainment, and even my own expectations.

Because I can turn everything off around me, but if I'm still mentally running through a list of twenty things I need to do, I haven't exactly given myself a break.

I'm Learning Not to Fill Every Quiet Moment

I think this has been one of the more interesting parts of my self-care journey.

Learning that I don't always need to be doing something.

And I say that as somebody who genuinely enjoys being busy with creative projects.

I have books I want to finish, products I want to make, music I want to record, and ideas for things I haven't even started yet.

I love having things to look forward to.

But I'm also learning that I don't have to fill every available moment with progress toward one of those goals.

Sometimes I can just sit outside.

Sometimes I can listen to the rain without recording it.

Sometimes I can enjoy my singing bowls without worrying about whether the session will become a video.

And sometimes I can have an idea and leave it as an idea until I'm ready to do something with it.

That last one has been particularly interesting because my brain loves a new project.

But I've started appreciating the freedom that comes with not immediately turning every thought into an assignment.

There's something nice about having an experience simply because you enjoy it.

What Does Quiet Look Like for You?

I don't think everybody needs the same kind of environment to feel peaceful.

Some people enjoy complete silence. Others prefer music playing softly in the background. Some people feel their best outside, while others love the comfort of being home.

I think the important thing is figuring out what actually helps you feel settled instead of assuming that whatever works for somebody else should work for you.

And I don't think quiet has to be expensive or elaborate.

You don't need to redesign your entire house, buy a collection of wellness products, or disappear into the mountains for a week.

Although I wouldn't turn down a nice little mountain getaway.

Sometimes it starts with turning something off.

Putting your phone down for a while. Sitting outside without bringing work with you. Choosing not to participate in a conversation that you already know is going to leave you feeling drained.

Or simply noticing what your mind does when you finally have a moment to yourself.

I've been asking myself whether the things I surround myself with are adding something meaningful to my life or simply keeping me occupied.

And I've realized that I don't want to be so accustomed to noise that I mistake it for normalcy.

I want to be able to enjoy my own company, hear myself think, and recognize when I need a little space.

I still have plenty of responsibilities. My mind still comes up with new ideas when I'm supposed to be resting, and there are days when my surroundings are anything but peaceful.

I'm not trying to create a life where nothing ever interrupts me. That wouldn't be realistic.

I just want to be more intentional about what I give my attention to.

Because the more I learn about quiet, the more I realize how much of it has to do with the choices I make throughout the day.

And maybe that's where creating a peaceful life begins.

Not with everything around us becoming silent, but with learning when we no longer need to respond to all the noise.

With love,

Courtney Swank

I Love You. Let's Heal.