The Treehouse + The Cave


The Treehouse + The Cave: Missing Absence <body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d9561264\x26blogName\x3dThe+Treehouse+%2B+The+Cave\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thetreehouseandthecave.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thetreehouseandthecave.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d455617431721372491', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Missing Absence

Each and every time I make it past the city's paved borders and into fields, forests and mountains, I'm shocked to discover that I've forgotten what silence is; what darkness is; in many ways, what absence is. The same flood of pleasant and empty memories; the same simultaneous familiarity, novelty; the same acceptance that the knowledge will not last, all befall me.

I do not experience silence here, never darkness. Even at my most sedate, sleeping soundly through the night, I am bombarded with far-less-than-ambient sound; my loft is bright enough to easily expose photographs (sans tripod). Creeping in through poorly veiled windows and from pin-prick LEDs, light and the information it often conveys breach what should be as black and silent as space. Sodium-vapor street lamps, a red digital alarm clock, snoring white Apple LEDs, headlights panning across our panes, 6 faint green OLEDs on 6 black boxes, the occasional blink from the smoke detector, the occasional blink from the carbon monoxide detector, and the constant orange sky on any day not crushed under a high pressure system; all conspire to extend my hours of stimulation into a space once reserved for reflection and rest.

With life this full, saturated by employment and pleasure (both now augmented by always-on media appliances), I'm comforted to know that many like myself are beginning to ask: Why? What are the consequences of such toil? What does it mean that I find the silence of the rural landscape disconcerting, that I wake up in the night to check email, feeds and Bit Torrent? How much emptiness, absence is necessary for peace, introspection and innovation? How has our abandonment of the 12 -hour day for the 24 advanced us? Has it? Will we fall prey to the voracity of our collective appetite? Have we?

Thoughts:

The Beneficial Powers of Darkness by Hugh Wilson via Circadiana
Quitting the Paint Factory by Mark Slouka via Heather

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