Sounds of Life

Art created by Meg Brosneck

The dorm laughs.

The walls are too thin and the rooms are too close, and even when the doors are shut tight, sound always manages to get in. I can hear the laughter of a few rowdy students out in the hall who had a little more to drink than they should've, followed shortly after by the buzz of my phone when someone sends a group message begging for some peace and quiet. Sometimes someone apologizes, but usually, there's no response. The laughter continues, and the noise is constant. For many, this is a great annoyance, but it's never been too big of a problem for me. I simply plug my headphones in and play some music to cover up the noise. I fall asleep to quiet humming and gentle voices, the soft strumming of instruments in the background... but some days I don't need to. Somedays, I take comfort in the constant noise of the dorm. The slamming of doors, the joyous laughter, the music from downstairs, the gossiping voices—they ground me. As annoying as they can be when I'm trying to study or have the worst headache, they remind me that I'm not alone in this building. There are hundreds of other students, friends, and strangers, with unique life of their own and their own stories to tell. They're all here, having fun or making art, existing.

The dorm can never be silent; it is too alive.

***

The city howls.

The streets are always full and there's always someone outside walking or riding or laughing or talking. Cars roll down the roads and honk when someone chooses a particularly stupid time to jaywalk, and it's so different from what I'm used to. I've lived in smaller cities and towns all my life. The biggest difference between Columbus and my past homes is definitely the sound that's so loud and so constant that it eventually becomes a dull background noise. Back in Genoa, it was always quiet, but here? Here, buses stop every few minutes and, even from my bedroom, I can always hear their recorded greetings. There are sirens passing by nearly every night that I never even blink at, even though I remember rushing to look out the window every time I heard one as a child. Sirens meant police, and they rarely ever showed up outside unless something big was happening. Now, it's a nightly occurrence I barely notice among the laughter, shouts, chimes, and clashing. I take comfort in the sounds of the city because it proves it's so alive. There's always someone outside calling a Lyft or ordering take-out, and they all have their own lives with their own experiences that led them to where they are today. They all have their tales to tell.

The city can never be silent; it is too alive.

The world screams.

There are almost 8 billion people on Earth. No matter where you look, you will always find people doing something: walking, running, jumping, hiking, singing, dancing, learning, talking, building, sharing—existing. We create noise across the whole planet, and we aren't alone in this either—there are millions of other species living right beside us who are making sounds of their own. The snakes hiss, the birds screech, the lions roar. Even the land and oceans refuse to stay silent; they demand to be heard, whether that be by rumbling Earthquakes or crashing waves: the Earth commands attention. We live in a world of constant noise and there are very few places left where you can truly find absolute silence; sometimes, this can be a curse, but it is also a blessing. The noise means there's someone or something out there to make it. It means we're alive and we want others to know, and it means that something is happening somewhere at all times.

The world can never be silent; it is too alive.

***

The universe whispers.

Its voice is low and quiet and struggles to be heard. After all, space is largely a vacuum, and sound cannot travel through nothingness. But even so, the universe fights to be heard. Pockets of dust and gas are scattered through space with galaxies and remnants of stars where sound waves weave their way through, proving their existence. The void tries to swallow all of the noise, to bury its voice, but the universe doesn't give in. Even black holes rumble and demand to be heard. Maybe not by human ears, which don't know how to listen to their music, but there are others to hum to. There is always noise somewhere. We are infinitely small, but we as Earth engage in the music making of the entire universe when we make noise. The sound won't last forever, but we fight to leave our mark even if no one can hear it. We are alive. We as humans, we as the Earth, we as the galaxy, and we as the universe—we are all alive and our voices are how we declare it. Whether that be spoken from a human's tongue or thundered from the heart of a black hole... the universe sings.

The universe can never be silent; we are too alive.