Power Outages
When I think of complete silence — the lack of sound that makes the air feel heavy — I have flashbacks to childhood memories, especially power outages. Now, many kids feared power outages, especially in the middle of a negative thirty degrees Celsius Montreal winter, but for me I loved it. For once I was sitting in my home, no modern stimuli, no hums from the radiators and heaters, it was quiet. Being a child who grew up from city to city, I found the silence beautiful-it was rare. For once, it was just me and nothing else — no dings from cell phones or whirring from the range hood. My head was clear, I suddenly began focusing on things I wouldn’t normally look at: why the snow piled up or how every time I breathe I could feel my chest rise and sink, rise and sink, rise and sink. It made me hyper aware but I enjoyed it, I found joy with noticing the simple things. Without the noise of cars clunking into the garages, disarray within my mind began untangling, slowly becoming a clear list. Life seemed simpler with organized thoughts, lists, and quiet. I was less stressed, challenges seemed plausible, and life gained a little joy.
Living now in Singapore, a city with constant movement and noise, I value peace and quiet so much more. Residing in an apartment right off Orchard, living without the noise of cars and traffic sounds unthinkable. Even at school, far in Woodlands right above the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve, an area supposed to be some of the most silent areas of the country, I still find myself lacking that pure quiet. With stress, school, friends, classes, college, the thought of mellow quiet is a distant memory. When it all becomes a little too much I take a deep breath and picture myself in the living room of my house in Montreal. I go back to warm blankets, steaming hot chocolate in a red and green ceramic christmas mug, and looking outside the window during a power outage.
The snow outside was of the perfect consistency, it had just fallen and with a simple step a crunch could be heard below. The tiredness resulting from my robust turkey dinner began to sink in and my eyelids got heavier and heavier. It was Sunday and the school day tomorrow swarmed my head with thoughts and worries. Nonetheless, for now my thoughts were repressed by the laughter occurring as a result of the Modern Family episode on the TV. My mother and I laid in wool pajamas with thick cotton blankets covering us, even though the heater was on. We were still adapting to the cold but the warm clothing and the scent of the candle, aptly named White Winter helped. Suddenly, the television shut down and all the lights went off. The room succumbed to a pure quiet. For a second my mother and I lay on the couches immobile comparing the undisturbed silence to the noise heard a few seconds before. The sound of the television, heaters, the washing machine in the room next to us, all gone. Neither of us felt fear at the unforeseen circumstance.
Our serenity was disturbed by the sound of my brother rushing down the stairs to the kitchen, we quickly followed. Once there, we searched for flashlights and tried to find the source of the outage. Turns out it was a neighborhood blackout as a result of the snowfall. Something so gentle had a great detrimental effect. My mother was soon flooded with worries of the biting cold we would suffer as the negative thirty degree weather would soon infiltrate our home. Thus, we proceeded to search the entire house finding all the blankets we owned to keep us warm through the night.
Making sure I had my fraction of the blankets we found covering all of me, my mother tucked me in for the night. I wished her a good night and she left, closing the door and the only source of light going with her. I sat in the bed, noticing that several noises I usually heard weren’t there anymore. The cars weren’t on the road, the heater wasn’t making its usual hum, and I couldn’t hear the clicking of my brother's computer in the room next to mine. I was left with clear thoughts, centered and uninterrupted. The thoughts about my life—future, present and past—that used to be obstructed with outside noises and preoccupations began to emerge. Those emotions I didn’t want to deal with because it would require actually feeling what I feared, enjoyed, or mourned were now all I had. They were me, what I felt, who I was. Modern distractions kept me from actually realizing what was going on in my life and my reactions to it. With these thoughts the silence around me began feeling almost tangible, wrapping around me, pulling out thoughts and images from deep within my mind — old memories, distant conversations, fragments of moments long past. I began remembering my fondest memories, watching the fireworks with my father celebrating Canada Day, sledding with my mother and siblings on the nearby hill, I suddenly had crisp images of these recollections. For once, my feelings engulfed me.
Even though I was ten years old, this memory brings a sense of security as I began to actually feel something. Many parts of life are often hidden to us, we focus too much on finding joy in something new, chasing after relationships, new experiences, and innovations. While all that has its beauty and is important to reflect and find joy in what you already have. That is the most valuable thing. It’s a form of appreciation. Being able to clear your head and realize that you’re okay with what you have and you feel good about yourself is the most important. Not only that but being able to notice those moments without having any worries or thoughts, just quiet white noise is the most reflective and calming experience one can have. You gain new perspectives and emotions for what you have experienced. Because stopping your thoughts isn’t what gives you a mental break, it’s having them there and still being at peace.