10.47 The Hum

I just couldn't take it anymore. All the noise of trains, planes, streetcars, people yelling in the streets, everything. My apartment borders on the main train tracks that cut through the south end of the city. I used to be okay with it, content with the fact that this was just another noise alive in the soundscape of the city.

But then the jets moved in. A bit further east is the Island Airport. Once they finally got permission to land jets, this combination crossed the line for me. I'd be on my back in bed staring up at the ceiling at all hours of the night, the train schedule imprinted on my ears. It all just became too much.

I used to pride myself on being a highly functional city person. That I didn't move away to someplace smaller. That I figured out how to survive amongst all this concrete.

Now I feel that people are afraid of silence. Afraid of what it may bring. Of the thoughts that come in the silence - all the sadness, frustrations. Afraid to just sit with those thoughts, and see what happens. See where it takes us. We have become a culture of distraction because sitting with those thoughts is not always pleasant. They can be dark and dangerous.

So, I up and sold all my city belongings and moved to Windsor, a retreat to a smaller city that is becoming more and more common among Toronto inhabitants. This retreat is happening for many reasons - financial, family, mental health. For me, it was to get away from all the noise. For me, there are some family connections in Windsor, so it was a natural choice.

After settling in, I went for a long walk. I feasted on all the quiet. Sure, there were cars and other noises around, but it was nothing like what I was used to. I think this was the problem back in the city - a person gets used to all that noise without realizing it. Without understanding the amount of normalization we are accepting.

Without all the noise, I felt like I could notice the details around me again. The birds singing, the low drone of my own thoughts. For the first time in a long time, I slept through the night.

That is, until I heard The Hum.

Read about The Windsor Hum in the Globe & Mail by clicking on the image.

That first night I woke up early to go for another walk. I wanted to hear the silence of the neighbourhood in the early hours. As I lay in bed, I could hear a low hum permeating my ears. At first, I dismissed it, thinking that it was residual noise from my time in the city. That I just needed some more time to let it all fall away.

The next morning, The Hum was still there, stronger even. Because, once you hear a noise, no matter how small or faint, you can't unhear it. My walks turned into scouting missions to find the source of The Hum. After a few weeks, I pinpointed it to a large data centre that was on a property the size of three football fields. Our internet data might be in the cloud, but the cloud has to exist somewhere. And a large part of Canada's data storage was housed in this building down the street from me. The real estate agent failed to mention this.

I started putting flyers up on telephone poles around my neighbourhood asking if other people heard The Hum. The 1-800 number I included received only one phone call, and it was the wrong number. I started a neighbourhood Facebook group that garnered three members. I tried to rally them with a neighbourhood meeting, even hosted it at my house. No one came.

The Hum only grew stronger and louder.

I wrote letters to my local councillor and called the non-emergency number for the police. The police came and politely and condescendingly asked me to stop calling the non-emergency number.

After hundreds of letters to politicians and hundreds more non-emergency calls, I gave up. I bought thick insulation to place over my windows and sealed the cracks at the bottom of the doors. I worked day and night, and when I was done, I sat on the floor cross-legged in my living room.

The silence took on a beautiful form.

Until.

It was faint, but there. A vibration in the floorboards. The Hum that originated at the data centre spread into the ground like a virus, shot across the kilometres, under my walls and through the insulation, and slightly made the floorboards vibrate.

I immediately ripped the insulation from the front door, got in my car, and drove away. I sped past the data centre and left Windsor. Drove north until I couldn't drive anymore. It seemed to get colder by the kilometre. When I couldn't drive any further, I got out and started walking, leaving my car with the door open and keys in the ignition. I walked and walked until there was nothing around but an open field and one lonely tree. I sat under the tree with my back against the trunk. I was tired and closed my eyes.

I heard nothing but silence.