Meditation and Tinnitus: Finding Peace in the Constant Noise

I remember the moment I first heard the sound of silence, and it has never gone away.

I was reading in bed—the kids were finally down for the night, and the house was quiet—when I noticed a high-pitched sound. I asked my husband if he could hear it too, but deep down, I knew the sound was coming from inside me. The high-pitched tone was in my head, something only I could hear. I described it as the "sound of silence," which, in retrospect, was an odd way to describe constant noise.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with tinnitus. I have it in both ears, though the pitch in my right ear is slightly higher than in my left. Tinnitus is often experienced as ringing in the ears and is defined as “the perception of sound in the absence of any external source”. It is typically linked to damage to the inner ear's sensory cells or the auditory nerve.

After the diagnosis, living with the constant sound for six months, I slipped into a mild depression. The realization that this sound in my head was here to stay—that it would likely be a lifelong companion—was overwhelming. It pushed me to investigate why I had this high-frequency hearing loss at such a young age. It didn’t take long to identify the probable cause.

In my early 20s, I worked on a greens crew at a local golf course. It was an incredible summer job: I spent days outdoors mowing grass, landscaping, driving heavy machinery, and enjoying unlimited golf during off-hours.

One of my main responsibilities was driving the "Brouwer," a specialty mower used for challenging areas like steep hills, pond edges, and deep sand traps. Although I wore ear protection, I also inserted earbuds underneath to listen to music as I worked. I was young and loved spending hours driving around in the sun with music blasting directly into my ears. In hindsight, I realized I was subjecting my eardrums to hours of amplified sound each day. At a young age, I had unknowingly compromised one of my most valuable senses.

As a result, my range of high-frequency hearing has been diminished. Most of the time, I don’t notice my hearing loss until someone mentions the buzz of cicadas in the trees, a high-pitched whine of a dog, or a squeal of machinery. These sounds fall into frequencies masked by my tinnitus, rendering them silent to me.

I recall a visit with my ENT, during which I described the sound and then mentioned how I had started using the ringing as a focus during meditation. He chuckled at the idea and seemed impressed that the constant sound wasn’t driving me crazy.

While researching different meditation techniques, I recently discovered Nada Yoga. Nada is the Sanskrit word for "sound," and Nada Yoga involves meditating on inner sound, often referred to as the "sound of silence." By focusing on the inner sound for an extended period, you can achieve a sense of stability, allowing the mind to rest easily in the present. The sound eventually fades into the background, becoming a screen on which all other sounds, physical sensations, and thoughts are projected. Without realizing it, I started practicing Nada Yoga when my tinnitus became unavoidable.

Years later, the high-pitched frequency in my ears is still very much present. It has become normal for me. Occasionally, when the ringing seems unusually loud, I’ll joke, “Can you hear that?” It’s my way of lightening what could otherwise be a frustrating experience.

This brings me to a mindful approach to meditating while living with tinnitus. In mindfulness meditation, we practice distinguishing between simply being aware of what is happening and our relationship to it.

If you have tinnitus, there is sound. For me, it’s a high-pitched, even frequency that is constant. This is what is happening.

But there is also my relationship to that sound. At first, it was distracting and depressing. I wished it would disappear, and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life with this constant companion. I labelled it as noise and a frustrating distraction.

Eventually, I realized this was not going to be helpful to my practice (and living with the condition). Part of my mindfulness practice was to welcome the complete experience.

My tinnitus is now just something that happens—all the time. I don’t resist it much anymore. Would I welcome a cure? Absolutely. (And I’ve explored several avenues to find one.) But for the most part, it’s not a problem. It’s just there, often fading into the background of my other experiences. If, during a meditation, I find it difficult to let it fade, I embrace it and welcome it to the foreground. It’s just sound. It isn’t hurting me. There’s nuance to the sound that can also hold my curiosity.

If I stop and reflect, I realize I carry the sound of silence with me—a unique experience that not everybody shares—a very thin silver lining to the experience. Oh, one more thing…never put earbuds into protective earmuffs. It’s not worth it.