We live in such an age of chatter and distraction. Everything is

The wise and perceptive Rebecca Pidgeon, artist of both word and song, once lamented: “We live in such an age of chatter and distraction. Everything is a challenge for the ears and eyes.” In this simple yet piercing reflection, she speaks not only of her own time, but of a condition that afflicts all ages of great noise — the forgetting of silence. Her words are not merely complaint, but a warning to the spirit: that in a world where all things demand attention, the soul may lose the power to listen. For when the air is filled with voices and the eye is besieged by motion, how easily does the heart grow deaf to the music of truth.

The origin of this quote lies in the world of the twenty-first century — an age overflowing with devices, screens, and endless communication. The ancient bards once spoke their tales beside the fire, and their listeners sat in stillness, receiving each word as a gift. But today, the fire burns not in the hearth, but in the glass of our machines. We live surrounded by the constant hum of information, advertisement, and entertainment, all clamoring for our senses. In such a world, the act of attention — once sacred — has become a battlefield. What Pidgeon names as “chatter and distraction” is not mere noise, but a spiritual assault on clarity and peace.

Her words recall the wisdom of the ancient philosophers who warned that the unquiet mind cannot see the truth. Socrates spoke of knowing oneself, but how can one know oneself amid a storm of endless voices? The Stoics taught serenity, but what serenity can be found when one’s thoughts are scattered by every sound, every flicker, every fleeting image? The challenge for the ears and eyes, as Pidgeon names it, is in truth the challenge of the soul — to remain still while the world rushes by. To live wisely in such an age is to reclaim silence, to rebuild within the heart a sanctuary against the tumult of the age.

History offers many examples of those who sought this inner stillness amid chaos. Consider Ludwig van Beethoven, who, as he began to lose his hearing, found his world growing quieter even as the noise of life pressed upon him. Yet in that silence, he heard more deeply than ever before. Cut off from the chatter of the world, he composed symphonies that spoke directly to eternity. What the multitude might call tragedy became for him a gateway to transcendence. He lost the world’s noise, and in return, gained the voice of the divine within. This is the lesson of Pidgeon’s lament — that silence is not emptiness, but the space in which creation and understanding are born.

The meaning of her words extends far beyond mere annoyance at modern life. It is a cry for presence. She reminds us that when the senses are constantly assaulted, the spirit becomes weary; when the eyes and ears are forever open to the world, the heart closes. The age of chatter is not just an age of sound, but of fragmentation — of minds pulled in every direction, unable to dwell, unable to dream. In such an age, to be still is an act of rebellion. To listen deeply — to another person, to nature, to one’s own soul — is to reclaim the ancient art of being human.

The lesson that flows from her words is clear: seek silence as you would seek wisdom. Make time each day to step away from the storm of noise — turn off the devices, leave behind the endless scroll of distraction, and listen. Walk alone in nature, or sit in a quiet room, and let your thoughts settle like dust in still water. For only in stillness can the truth rise to the surface. In the absence of constant chatter, you will begin to hear the voices that matter — the voice of conscience, the voice of love, the voice of peace.

Thus remember, O child of this noisy age, that silence is not the enemy of life but its nourishment. The world will always shout for your attention, but your spirit belongs to you alone. Guard it with care. Let your eyes rest from the glowing screens, let your ears recover from the endless clamor, and seek the harmony that exists beyond the noise. For when you learn to listen again — not with the ears, but with the heart — you will find that the world itself, beneath its clattering distractions, is filled with music. And in that sacred quiet, you will remember what it means to truly be alive.