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. Id 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 didnt 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 Ive 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 Id 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 grandfathers 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.

Weve 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 Id 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 Parks 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，我從西雅圖開車前往位于威斯康星州麥迪遜市的研究所，開到一條小路時，我剎車停下，沿著路邊的一條小徑走下去，直到找到過夜安歇的地方，那是一片剛被收割的玉米田。我把手枕在頭后，準(zhǔn)備好好睡上一覺。我躺在一排排被割過的粗硬莖稈上。我聽到一場美妙的蟋蟀大合唱，聞到暴風(fēng)雨來臨前空氣中潮濕的味道。陣陣?yán)坐Q從遠(yuǎn)方傳至田野里，早早地預(yù)示著即將來臨的大雨。雷聲不斷地轟隆回蕩，越來越大聲——這是一種宏偉、深沉、原始、撼動靈魂的聲音。我從未聽過這樣的雷聲。

幾個小時后，我全身都濕透了，我想：“為什么我都27歲了，卻從未聽過這樣的聲音？”

我的人生在那晚的玉米田里徹底改變了，雖然當(dāng)時我并未完全意識到這點(diǎn)。我花了幾個月的時間才明白在威斯康星大學(xué)讀研究生不是我要追尋的人生道路。我感到一種新的渴望，在讀過約翰·繆爾的描述后，我對這種渴望有了更深一層的理解，他把這種改變?nèi)松念D悟稱為“靈魂的渴望”。其后，為了錄下大自然的聲音與寂靜，我已經(jīng)環(huán)游世界三次。我的聽覺成為了我的生命、我謀生的手段。我的聽覺就是我的一切。

我看了三次醫(yī)生，隨后進(jìn)行了一次CAT掃描，我了解到我的失聰是因為中耳出了問題。但醫(yī)生說沒有任何解決方案，不過幸好，沒有情況惡化的風(fēng)險。惡化？醫(yī)生建議，我最好還是戴個助聽器，并希望情況能自然而然地好轉(zhuǎn)。

醫(yī)生讓我戴助聽器的建議讓我感到憤怒。幾乎所有助聽器的設(shè)計主要都是為了使聽到說話的聲音變得更大、更清晰，為了能聽到人類說什么。它們不能使音樂更加悅耳，也不能使大自然的聲音更加清晰。

回到家，我感到怒火中燒，于是大聲喊道，“我只想過回從前的生活！”因此，我把在失聰一年以前以及在失聰期間做過的所有事都仔細(xì)審視一番，不管這對我病情的好轉(zhuǎn)是否有意義。

我那時剛過50歲，為了慶祝這件事，我開始服用我弟弟推薦給我的營養(yǎng)品，他是個醫(yī)生，他自己就按嚴(yán)格要求服用維他命和荷爾蒙激素，比如高效的復(fù)合維生素B、鉀、鈣、硫辛酸等。為了完善我的新形象，我還把“落健”生發(fā)水像潤發(fā)油一樣涂在頭上，有時候我感到它從我的頭皮流下來，滴到耳朵周圍。我的耳科醫(yī)生說這些與我的失聰并無關(guān)系。盡管如此，出于絕望，我停用了所有營養(yǎng)品，也不再使用“落健”。

然后，在停用營養(yǎng)品兩個月后，仿佛上帝對我開口說話一般，我的聽覺突然完全恢復(fù)正常了。坐在壁爐旁我爺爺?shù)膿u椅上，我發(fā)現(xiàn)我能聽到火焰的爆裂聲和曾經(jīng)很熟悉的冰箱運(yùn)轉(zhuǎn)的咯咯聲。之后，正如它恢復(fù)時的那般猝不及防，我的聽覺很快又消失了。

我繼續(xù)停用所有營養(yǎng)品。時間變成了我的盟友，而非敵人。短暫的聽力恢復(fù)來得越來越頻繁，持續(xù)的時間也越來越長，之后還持續(xù)了讓人振奮的六個月之久。今天，我的聽力已經(jīng)全部恢復(fù)了。

我們都聽過這樣一句話：“世上沒有偶然，有的只是必然?！碑?dāng)我聽到這句話時，我想到了偉大的自然主義者約翰·繆爾，他年輕時曾在印第安納波利斯的一家車廠工作，在一次工廠意外中，他喪失了視力。身處全然的黑暗中，他感到孤寂，希望重見光明，盡情欣賞美麗的自然界?？姞柊l(fā)誓，如果他能重見光明，那他就全力投身到“造物主的創(chuàng)造”中，而非人類的“創(chuàng)造”中。最后，他的視力終于恢復(fù)了。他“沿著最枝繁葉茂、人跡罕至的道路”開始了1000英里的墨西哥灣徒步之旅，并成為了美國人家喻戶曉的“國家公園之父”。

2005年春天，我的聽覺恢復(fù)了，我的錄音師工作也重回正軌。我問自己，“在這個充滿噪聲污染的時代，有著完美的聽覺又有什么用呢？”在仔細(xì)思量一番后，我決定開展一個多年前就構(gòu)思過的寂靜計劃。

“一平方英寸的寂靜”在2005年的世界地球日（4月22日）確立，當(dāng)時，沒有任何觀眾，我獨(dú)自一人把一塊紅色的小石頭（一位奎魯特族長老送給我的禮物）放在奧林匹克國家公園霍河雨林的一根伐木上，距離游客活動中心大約3英里。我希望通過把這塊標(biāo)志物放在這里來保護(hù)和管理奧林匹克公園偏遠(yuǎn)荒野的自然聲音地帶。我的邏輯很簡單，而且這并不只是象征性的：“如果一個很大的噪聲，比如說飛機(jī)飛過的聲音，會影響許多平方英里的地方，那么一個自然區(qū)域，如果能維持百分之百無噪聲污染，也同樣能影響其方圓數(shù)平方英里以內(nèi)的地方。通過保護(hù)這一平方英寸的土地免受噪聲污染，寂靜就能擴(kuò)散到公園內(nèi)更多的地方。

我希望這個簡單又經(jīng)濟(jì)的自然聲音地帶管理方法既能起到激勵作用，也能為自然公園管理局提供一個有效的方法，實現(xiàn)幾個已有規(guī)劃但還有待展開的目標(biāo)，也就是保護(hù)好公園的自然聲音地帶，使那些已經(jīng)被人類所制造出來的噪聲破壞了的地方恢復(fù)如初。