Clenched by steel wire one-hundred-fifty feet in the air, everything below is a blur of green and brown. The wind swishes its tail. The hearty redwoods, over three-hundred feet in height, loom overhead, a silent grove of leviathans. For the first time, I experience the lifestyle of flying squirrels and howler monkeys, jetting branch to branch in their habitats. A system of pulleys and cables zoom me onto a wooden platform, where I inspect the timber lattice half-hidden in the vast leafy network. Sunlight struggles to penetrate fog enveloping the circle of entangled limbs so thick it is difficult to tell where branches end. This is a mythical land where silence reigns and everything is strangely still, waiting for change. There are no animals here, I complain to my guide, who smiles and commands me to zip-line to the next stage.
A webbed rope has been fastened between two of the largest redwoods in this forest. My harness clipped to a safety line, I am free to wander. I follow my docent onto the first rung. The bridge wobbles under our weight and I teeter, tightening my grip on the rails. My lead stops midway and turns to encourage me. Sweat pours down my face as I practice my acrobatics, finally reaching the guide’s side.
He tells me we’ll halt for a rest. As I sway towards the cable banister and lean to look, he advises me instead to close my eyes and forget what I’m seeing. To open my ears. Open them, wide! Listen deeply to every sound, even the tiniest that come to you. Don’t talk, don’t think, only listen. I obey the instructions, keeping my hands tense around the cord. But, thoughts of falling overtake my senses. I imagine the horrors below. I think I remember seeing the sliver of a stream, but I’m uncertain.
Stilling my mind, I strain to hear the burble of trickling water, but only the rush of a gusty wind assails me.
How long am I supposed to keep my eyes closed, I wonder. Did my guide leave me, I worry. My lids yearn to open, to reassure me. To relax I breathe in and out while counting. Suddenly, a lone cheep catches my ear.
I incline towards the chirp. Then to this reedy melody is added a tiny hammer. It drums a coded message. A distant cawing joins, grows closer and strident, overtaking the other syllables. The scream multiplies, reverberating in my head as echoes fly. Then once again softer chirps prevail, trilled from various throats. It sounds like a choral group rehearsing. Underneath this symphony I detect a sipping, simmering tune. All my nerves are in a tingle, as if each body part has been turned into a listening device. Where is that gargle emanating from? I hold my breath, attempt to still my heartbeat so nothing interferes with my ability to hone into that sibylline note. I am a human antenna, straining to attune to the faintest signals. I almost believe I can locate the chortling brook. Then, every flurry and tweet and warble joins together in euphonic discord and I lose its singularity. A wild concerto gambols in the arbor.
The guide tells me to open my eyes, breaking the spell. But, the orchestral masterpiece stays with me. I still hear the chatter of birds, the rustle of wings, the whisper of dancing leaves. Though muted, I fancy a flutter of red breast, a clip of white wing, a tremble of furry tail accompanying the notes. The guide asks me what I see now. I shake my head, unable to answer, mouth agape. Sound has introduced me to a hidden world within the mighty Redwoods: vigorous, dynamic, and playful, though skillfully veiled by the dusky cover of foliage.
How limited my outlook when focused on the purely visual. How little I’ve reveled in the magic of listening because I’ve given my eyes custody of my imagination. What city noises have I been ignoring? What disguised polyphony has escaped my notice? What unattended harmonics will now become my music? As I prepare for my final flight path, I revel in the elevation of my experience. I vow to no longer ignore the rich layers found when I put to use my auditory senses.
In “The Sound of Silence,” author Katrina Goldsaito and illustrator Julia Kuo explore a child’s journey to learn the language of silence amidst their busy surroundings. Published in English by Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, this story is a call to paying attention to our inner voices.
