As I read the title of this, my mind jumped to a stunning experience of total silence I had ... on the Olympic Peninsula as well. I wasn't in the Hoh, was prob

As I read the title of this, my mind jumped to a stunning experience of total silence I had ... on the Olympic Peninsula as well. I wasn't in the Hoh, was probably south of there, on one of my weekend day-trips to anywhere that wasn't Tumwater. Driving my truck, something had led me a dozen miles or so out an old logging road and into the interior. It's surprising to find how on the Peninsula one can get 40, 50 miles from the nearest human, yet be in a place just a few hours from Seattle. I stopped to stretch my legs, parked in the middle of the road, and walked ahead, leaving the ticking truck behind. A few minutes later I paused to look into the woods and turn around, and it hit me. Abso-fucking-lute silence. Nothing. As I remember it there weren't even bug noises. Or wind. I froze in wonder, realizing what it was that I was experiencing and how otherworldly it was. Silence doesn't happen to hearing people in everyday life, and when it's finally encountered, it hits like a brick. I recall one other such incident, that time while sitting down for a rest while hiking high in the mountains northeast of Sacramento. More recently I've discovered an approximation, a local sonic minimum, while biking the Columbia Plateau trail SW of Spokane WA. It's well worth the efforts to get to these places, the only word I can think of to describe the experiences is "transcendental". For me, the feeling has been that of the “self” diminishing towards nothing, towards becoming just part of the background, while the world around becomes strikingly more vivid and clear and detailed. I'm not one who meditates, one of the “mindful”, or an “in-the-moment” person, but I do wonder if this is what they seek?