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In the fall of 1980 I was on that path， driving from Seattle to Madison， Wisconsin， to graduate school， when I pulled off and slipped down a side road until I found a place to rest for the night， a recently harvested cornfield. Hands behind my head and ready for a deep rest， I lay between rows of stubby， shorn stalks. I heard a wonderful chorus of chanting crickets and began to smell the dampness of an approaching storm. There， on the prairie， the thunder rolled in from far away， signaling rain long before it arrived. Again and again this thunder boomed and echoed， growing ever louder—magnificent， deep， primordial， soul-shaking sounds. I’d never heard thunder like this before.
Hours later and thoroughly soaked， I thought， “How could I be 27 years old and never have listened before？”
My life changed that night in the cornfield， though I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. It took me a few months to realize that graduate study at the University of Wisconsin was not the path I wanted to pursue. I felt a new yearning， one I understood better after reading John Muir describe his life-changing epiphany as “soul hunger”. Since then I’ve been around the globe three times， recording the sounds and silences of nature. My hearing had become my life， my livelihood. My hearing was everything.
Three doctor visits and a CAT scan later， I learned that my hearing loss was due to a problem in my middle ear. But nothing could be done， at least， the doctors said， without the risk of making matters worse. Worse？ The best thing to do， I was told， was to be fitted for a hearing aid and hope that the matter cleared up on its own.
To even suggest a hearing aid was an outrage. Nearly all hearing aids are designed primarily to amplify and clarify human speech， to hear what a person has to say. They do not make music more enjoyable or nature sounds more audible.
Back home， in a fit of private anger， I said out loud， “I just want my old life back！” So I examined everything I had done a year before my hearing loss and everything that I’d been doing during my hearing loss， regardless of perceived significance.
I had recently turned 50， and to celebrate this I began taking supplements that were recommended to me by my brother， who is a physician and had been on a rigorous vitamin and hormone regimen himself： high-potency B-complex， potassium， calcium， alpha lipoic acid， to name a few. And to top off my new look， I also put Rogaine onto my head like hair tonic and sometimes felt it drip down my scalp and around my ears. All of this， my ear doctors reported， had nothing to do with my hearing loss. Nevertheless， out of desperation， I discontinued all supplements and put away the Rogaine. Then， about two months after quitting the supplements， as if God himself had spoken to me， I experienced a sudden onset of completely normal hearing. Sitting in my grandfather’s rocking chair next to my woodstove， I realized I could hear the crackle of the fire and the once-familiar gurgling of the refrigerator. Then， as quickly as it had returned， my hearing vanished once again.
I continued to abstain from all supplements. Time became my ally， not my enemy. Brief periods of normal hearing came more frequently and lasted longer， then blended together， fashioning an encouraging， nearly normal six months. Today my hearing has fully recovered.
We’ve all heard it said： “There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason.” When I hear this， I think of the great naturalist John Muir， who lost his eyesight in an industrial accident while working as a young man at an Indianapolis carriage factory. Thrust into total darkness， alone， and desperately wishing that he could once again see， to fully enjoy the natural world as intended， Muir vowed that if his sight should ever return he would devote himself to “the inventions of God” and not to the inventions of man. When his sight did eventually return， he began a 1，000-mile walk to the Gulf of Mexico， “along the leafiest and least trodden path possible，” on his way to becoming the man Americans know best as the father of our national parks.
In the spring of 2005， my hearing restored， my career as the Sound Tracker back on track， I asked myself， “What good is perfect hearing in a world filled with noise pollution？” After a good bit of thought， I resolved to make good on a quiet conversation project I’d conceived of years earlier.
One Square Inch of Silence was designated on Earth Day 2005（April 22）， when， with an audience of none， I placed a small red stone， a gift from an elder of the Quileute tribe， on a log in the Hoh Rain Forest at Olympic National Park， approximately three miles from the visitors center. With this marker in place， I hoped to protect and manage the natural soundscape in Olympic Park’s backcountry wilderness. My logic is simple and not simply symbolic： If a loud noise， such as the passing of an aircraft， can affect many square miles， then a natural place， if maintained in a 100 percent noise-free condition， will likewise affect many square miles around it. Protect that single square inch of land from noise pollution， and quiet will prevail over a much larger area of the park. My hope is that this simple and， I believe， inexpensive method of soundscape natural resource management will prove both an inspiration and a helpful mechanism for the National Park Servive to meet several under-attended， codified goals， namely， preserving and protecting the natural soundscapes of its parklands and restoring those soundscapes degraded by human noise.
1980年秋天，我从西雅图开车前往位于威斯康星州麦迪逊市的研究所，开到一条小路时，我刹车停下，沿着路边的一条小径走下去，直到找到过夜安歇的地方，那是一片刚被收割的玉米田。我把手枕在头后，准备好好睡上一觉。我躺在一排排被割过的粗硬茎秆上。我听到一场美妙的蟋蟀大合唱，闻到暴风雨来临前空气中潮湿的味道。阵阵雷鸣从远方传至田野里，早早地预示着即将来临的大雨。雷声不断地轰隆回荡，越来越大声——这是一种宏伟、深沉、原始、撼动灵魂的声音。我从未听过这样的雷声。
几个小时后，我全身都湿透了，我想：“为什么我都27岁了，却从未听过这样的声音？”
我的人生在那晚的玉米田里彻底改变了，虽然当时我并未完全意识到这点。我花了几个月的时间才明白在威斯康星大学读研究生不是我要追寻的人生道路。我感到一种新的渴望，在读过约翰·缪尔的描述后，我对这种渴望有了更深一层的理解，他把这种改变人生的顿悟称为“灵魂的渴望”。其后，为了录下大自然的声音与寂静，我已经环游世界三次。我的听觉成为了我的生命、我谋生的手段。我的听觉就是我的一切。
我看了三次医生，随后进行了一次CAT扫描，我了解到我的失聪是因为中耳出了问题。但医生说没有任何解决方案，不过幸好，没有情况恶化的风险。恶化？医生建议，我最好还是戴个助听器，并希望情况能自然而然地好转。
医生让我戴助听器的建议让我感到愤怒。几乎所有助听器的设计主要都是为了使听到说话的声音变得更大、更清晰，为了能听到人类说什么。它们不能使音乐更加悦耳，也不能使大自然的声音更加清晰。
回到家，我感到怒火中烧，于是大声喊道，“我只想过回从前的生活！”因此，我把在失聪一年以前以及在失聪期间做过的所有事都仔细审视一番，不管这对我病情的好转是否有意义。
我那时刚过50岁，为了庆祝这件事，我开始服用我弟弟推荐给我的营养品，他是个医生，他自己就按严格要求服用维他命和荷尔蒙激素，比如高效的复合维生素B、钾、钙、硫辛酸等。为了完善我的新形象，我还把“落健”生发水像润发油一样涂在头上，有时候我感到它从我的头皮流下来，滴到耳朵周围。我的耳科医生说这些与我的失聪并无关系。尽管如此，出于绝望，我停用了所有营养品，也不再使用“落健”。
然后，在停用营养品两个月后，仿佛上帝对我开口说话一般，我的听觉突然完全恢复正常了。坐在壁炉旁我爷爷的摇椅上，我发现我能听到火焰的爆裂声和曾经很熟悉的冰箱运转的咯咯声。之后，正如它恢复时的那般猝不及防，我的听觉很快又消失了。
我继续停用所有营养品。时间变成了我的盟友，而非敌人。短暂的听力恢复来得越来越频繁，持续的时间也越来越长，之后还持续了让人振奋的六个月之久。今天，我的听力已经全部恢复了。
我们都听过这样一句话：“世上没有偶然，有的只是必然。”当我听到这句话时，我想到了伟大的自然主义者约翰·缪尔，他年轻时曾在印第安纳波利斯的一家车厂工作，在一次工厂意外中，他丧失了视力。身处全然的黑暗中，他感到孤寂，希望重见光明，尽情欣赏美丽的自然界。缪尔发誓，如果他能重见光明，那他就全力投身到“造物主的创造”中，而非人类的“创造”中。最后，他的视力终于恢复了。他“沿着最枝繁叶茂、人迹罕至的道路”开始了1000英里的墨西哥湾徒步之旅，并成为了美国人家喻户晓的“国家公园之父”。
2005年春天，我的听觉恢复了，我的录音师工作也重回正轨。我问自己，“在这个充满噪声污染的时代，有着完美的听觉又有什么用呢？”在仔细思量一番后，我决定开展一个多年前就构思过的寂静计划。
“一平方英寸的寂静”在2005年的世界地球日（4月22日）确立，当时，没有任何观众，我独自一人把一块红色的小石头（一位奎鲁特族长老送给我的礼物）放在奥林匹克国家公园霍河雨林的一根伐木上，距离游客活动中心大约3英里。我希望通过把这块标志物放在这里来保护和管理奥林匹克公园偏远荒野的自然声音地帶。我的逻辑很简单，而且这并不只是象征性的：“如果一个很大的噪声，比如说飞机飞过的声音，会影响许多平方英里的地方，那么一个自然区域，如果能维持百分之百无噪声污染，也同样能影响其方圆数平方英里以内的地方。通过保护这一平方英寸的土地免受噪声污染，寂静就能扩散到公园内更多的地方。
我希望这个简单又经济的自然声音地带管理方法既能起到激励作用，也能为自然公园管理局提供一个有效的方法，实现几个已有规划但还有待展开的目标，也就是保护好公园的自然声音地带，使那些已经被人类所制造出来的噪声破坏了的地方恢复如初。
Hours later and thoroughly soaked， I thought， “How could I be 27 years old and never have listened before？”
My life changed that night in the cornfield， though I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. It took me a few months to realize that graduate study at the University of Wisconsin was not the path I wanted to pursue. I felt a new yearning， one I understood better after reading John Muir describe his life-changing epiphany as “soul hunger”. Since then I’ve been around the globe three times， recording the sounds and silences of nature. My hearing had become my life， my livelihood. My hearing was everything.
Three doctor visits and a CAT scan later， I learned that my hearing loss was due to a problem in my middle ear. But nothing could be done， at least， the doctors said， without the risk of making matters worse. Worse？ The best thing to do， I was told， was to be fitted for a hearing aid and hope that the matter cleared up on its own.
To even suggest a hearing aid was an outrage. Nearly all hearing aids are designed primarily to amplify and clarify human speech， to hear what a person has to say. They do not make music more enjoyable or nature sounds more audible.
Back home， in a fit of private anger， I said out loud， “I just want my old life back！” So I examined everything I had done a year before my hearing loss and everything that I’d been doing during my hearing loss， regardless of perceived significance.
I had recently turned 50， and to celebrate this I began taking supplements that were recommended to me by my brother， who is a physician and had been on a rigorous vitamin and hormone regimen himself： high-potency B-complex， potassium， calcium， alpha lipoic acid， to name a few. And to top off my new look， I also put Rogaine onto my head like hair tonic and sometimes felt it drip down my scalp and around my ears. All of this， my ear doctors reported， had nothing to do with my hearing loss. Nevertheless， out of desperation， I discontinued all supplements and put away the Rogaine. Then， about two months after quitting the supplements， as if God himself had spoken to me， I experienced a sudden onset of completely normal hearing. Sitting in my grandfather’s rocking chair next to my woodstove， I realized I could hear the crackle of the fire and the once-familiar gurgling of the refrigerator. Then， as quickly as it had returned， my hearing vanished once again.
I continued to abstain from all supplements. Time became my ally， not my enemy. Brief periods of normal hearing came more frequently and lasted longer， then blended together， fashioning an encouraging， nearly normal six months. Today my hearing has fully recovered.
We’ve all heard it said： “There are no accidents. Everything happens for a reason.” When I hear this， I think of the great naturalist John Muir， who lost his eyesight in an industrial accident while working as a young man at an Indianapolis carriage factory. Thrust into total darkness， alone， and desperately wishing that he could once again see， to fully enjoy the natural world as intended， Muir vowed that if his sight should ever return he would devote himself to “the inventions of God” and not to the inventions of man. When his sight did eventually return， he began a 1，000-mile walk to the Gulf of Mexico， “along the leafiest and least trodden path possible，” on his way to becoming the man Americans know best as the father of our national parks.
In the spring of 2005， my hearing restored， my career as the Sound Tracker back on track， I asked myself， “What good is perfect hearing in a world filled with noise pollution？” After a good bit of thought， I resolved to make good on a quiet conversation project I’d conceived of years earlier.
One Square Inch of Silence was designated on Earth Day 2005（April 22）， when， with an audience of none， I placed a small red stone， a gift from an elder of the Quileute tribe， on a log in the Hoh Rain Forest at Olympic National Park， approximately three miles from the visitors center. With this marker in place， I hoped to protect and manage the natural soundscape in Olympic Park’s backcountry wilderness. My logic is simple and not simply symbolic： If a loud noise， such as the passing of an aircraft， can affect many square miles， then a natural place， if maintained in a 100 percent noise-free condition， will likewise affect many square miles around it. Protect that single square inch of land from noise pollution， and quiet will prevail over a much larger area of the park. My hope is that this simple and， I believe， inexpensive method of soundscape natural resource management will prove both an inspiration and a helpful mechanism for the National Park Servive to meet several under-attended， codified goals， namely， preserving and protecting the natural soundscapes of its parklands and restoring those soundscapes degraded by human noise.
1980年秋天，我从西雅图开车前往位于威斯康星州麦迪逊市的研究所，开到一条小路时，我刹车停下，沿着路边的一条小径走下去，直到找到过夜安歇的地方，那是一片刚被收割的玉米田。我把手枕在头后，准备好好睡上一觉。我躺在一排排被割过的粗硬茎秆上。我听到一场美妙的蟋蟀大合唱，闻到暴风雨来临前空气中潮湿的味道。阵阵雷鸣从远方传至田野里，早早地预示着即将来临的大雨。雷声不断地轰隆回荡，越来越大声——这是一种宏伟、深沉、原始、撼动灵魂的声音。我从未听过这样的雷声。
几个小时后，我全身都湿透了，我想：“为什么我都27岁了，却从未听过这样的声音？”
我的人生在那晚的玉米田里彻底改变了，虽然当时我并未完全意识到这点。我花了几个月的时间才明白在威斯康星大学读研究生不是我要追寻的人生道路。我感到一种新的渴望，在读过约翰·缪尔的描述后，我对这种渴望有了更深一层的理解，他把这种改变人生的顿悟称为“灵魂的渴望”。其后，为了录下大自然的声音与寂静，我已经环游世界三次。我的听觉成为了我的生命、我谋生的手段。我的听觉就是我的一切。
我看了三次医生，随后进行了一次CAT扫描，我了解到我的失聪是因为中耳出了问题。但医生说没有任何解决方案，不过幸好，没有情况恶化的风险。恶化？医生建议，我最好还是戴个助听器，并希望情况能自然而然地好转。
医生让我戴助听器的建议让我感到愤怒。几乎所有助听器的设计主要都是为了使听到说话的声音变得更大、更清晰，为了能听到人类说什么。它们不能使音乐更加悦耳，也不能使大自然的声音更加清晰。
回到家，我感到怒火中烧，于是大声喊道，“我只想过回从前的生活！”因此，我把在失聪一年以前以及在失聪期间做过的所有事都仔细审视一番，不管这对我病情的好转是否有意义。
我那时刚过50岁，为了庆祝这件事，我开始服用我弟弟推荐给我的营养品，他是个医生，他自己就按严格要求服用维他命和荷尔蒙激素，比如高效的复合维生素B、钾、钙、硫辛酸等。为了完善我的新形象，我还把“落健”生发水像润发油一样涂在头上，有时候我感到它从我的头皮流下来，滴到耳朵周围。我的耳科医生说这些与我的失聪并无关系。尽管如此，出于绝望，我停用了所有营养品，也不再使用“落健”。
然后，在停用营养品两个月后，仿佛上帝对我开口说话一般，我的听觉突然完全恢复正常了。坐在壁炉旁我爷爷的摇椅上，我发现我能听到火焰的爆裂声和曾经很熟悉的冰箱运转的咯咯声。之后，正如它恢复时的那般猝不及防，我的听觉很快又消失了。
我继续停用所有营养品。时间变成了我的盟友，而非敌人。短暂的听力恢复来得越来越频繁，持续的时间也越来越长，之后还持续了让人振奋的六个月之久。今天，我的听力已经全部恢复了。
我们都听过这样一句话：“世上没有偶然，有的只是必然。”当我听到这句话时，我想到了伟大的自然主义者约翰·缪尔，他年轻时曾在印第安纳波利斯的一家车厂工作，在一次工厂意外中，他丧失了视力。身处全然的黑暗中，他感到孤寂，希望重见光明，尽情欣赏美丽的自然界。缪尔发誓，如果他能重见光明，那他就全力投身到“造物主的创造”中，而非人类的“创造”中。最后，他的视力终于恢复了。他“沿着最枝繁叶茂、人迹罕至的道路”开始了1000英里的墨西哥湾徒步之旅，并成为了美国人家喻户晓的“国家公园之父”。
2005年春天，我的听觉恢复了，我的录音师工作也重回正轨。我问自己，“在这个充满噪声污染的时代，有着完美的听觉又有什么用呢？”在仔细思量一番后，我决定开展一个多年前就构思过的寂静计划。
“一平方英寸的寂静”在2005年的世界地球日（4月22日）确立，当时，没有任何观众，我独自一人把一块红色的小石头（一位奎鲁特族长老送给我的礼物）放在奥林匹克国家公园霍河雨林的一根伐木上，距离游客活动中心大约3英里。我希望通过把这块标志物放在这里来保护和管理奥林匹克公园偏远荒野的自然声音地帶。我的逻辑很简单，而且这并不只是象征性的：“如果一个很大的噪声，比如说飞机飞过的声音，会影响许多平方英里的地方，那么一个自然区域，如果能维持百分之百无噪声污染，也同样能影响其方圆数平方英里以内的地方。通过保护这一平方英寸的土地免受噪声污染，寂静就能扩散到公园内更多的地方。
我希望这个简单又经济的自然声音地带管理方法既能起到激励作用，也能为自然公园管理局提供一个有效的方法，实现几个已有规划但还有待展开的目标，也就是保护好公园的自然声音地带，使那些已经被人类所制造出来的噪声破坏了的地方恢复如初。