Thanks for sharing your experiences, all. Interesting how both sound and smell and taste are associated with memory as well as the present. Those senses seem to affect us inside while vision and touch are intimate explorations of the outside of things. All of them affect our perceptions, even if unconsciously.
The soundtrack of today's hike in Sedona was primarily the sound of my shoes on the trail, louder on bare rock and almost silent on the inches-deep red dust. Birds singing. Voices of other hikers. And inevitably, the sounds of traffic and construction filtering in from a mile away.
Everything is quiet in the house. Until I start listening. Right now the keyboard clicks are the loudest noise. But there is this faint buzzing I hear. I think it’s inside me. Like between my ears. If I close my eyes, it’s still there. Does this mean that thinking makes noise in your head? It’s more like the sound of white noise. What is white noise?what a strange name.
I notice that too, except for me it’s in the space of the room. I wonder if it’s that everything seems to wired with these invisible waves. White noise, yes, is a strange name.
This week I remixed my music, moving songs that make me feel strong to the top of the playlist. It seemed important to listen to music, if this is to be a week of intentional listening. Then, they came, those other sounds. Humming of the fridge, crackling of the fireplace, my own deep breathing, the piercing beeping of the garbage truck backing into place, the hammering, dropping, clanging, drilling of neighbours construction, the vibration of the train rumbling across the bridge and the train whistle disappearing into the distance, the Skytrain screeching across its tracks. I thought it was quiet in my home until I started to listen. It started with soft whooshing in my ears. Outside new sounds, squishy boots in the muddy soil, burbling baby water fall, crows cawing in unison, seagulls screeching alone, tiny unseen birds chirping in bushes, freighter ships burbling and clanging as they unload their cargo and tug boats tooting. Standing still and closing my eyes I hear a small bus, a large delivery truck, a small car, a large cement type truck, a loud 'mufferless' truck-each with its own sound- I didn't know I knew these sounds and could pick out vehicles without seeing. I would have missed the silent electric car if it wasn't for the whooshing of tires on wet pavement and opening my eyes in time to catch it all. The silence of the trees is not so silent, hidden tiny birds chirping away, wind rustling the branches and wind whirling past my own ears, the brook and water fall in the distance, the falling of twigs loosened after a big wind, the quiet sound in a cluster of trees, the loud sound moving into the open space. Wonderful Kim, I must say I had my doubts, now I'm hooked. Thanks so much!
I have a childhood memory of walking outside in December at night and hearing the squeak of snow under my boots. It’s a sound that has stayed with me for decades. Standing at the top of a hill as the light fades, with kids still tobogganing, listening delight in children’s voices and the swoosh as they slid down the hill. The swooshes keep me present yet also take me back in time.
Earlier this week I walked along the Don River Trail in Toronto. It’s within easy reach of my house so it’s convenient, but not the greatest trail because it’s so close to the Don Valley Parkway. On this occasion, I blocked the sound of traffic by using headphones and listened to instrumental music (I can drift in and out, listening differently than I would to music with vocals).
I took the headphones off at one point, the Don River, and I was struck by the sounds the river makes; how my reaction was almost visceral, though it was just the sound of the river against its banks. I had a reaction similar to being on coastal shoreline.
It reminded me of a video that focuses on sounds a landscape photographer might hear on location. It’s clever, and inspires me to listen carefully to what’s around me:
Kristin wrote a beautiful piece about listening to pileated woodpeckers and the idea of micro movements in photography and life.
https://www.presenttobeauty.com/photo-blog/into-nourishment
Thanks for sharing your experiences, all. Interesting how both sound and smell and taste are associated with memory as well as the present. Those senses seem to affect us inside while vision and touch are intimate explorations of the outside of things. All of them affect our perceptions, even if unconsciously.
The soundtrack of today's hike in Sedona was primarily the sound of my shoes on the trail, louder on bare rock and almost silent on the inches-deep red dust. Birds singing. Voices of other hikers. And inevitably, the sounds of traffic and construction filtering in from a mile away.
Everything is quiet in the house. Until I start listening. Right now the keyboard clicks are the loudest noise. But there is this faint buzzing I hear. I think it’s inside me. Like between my ears. If I close my eyes, it’s still there. Does this mean that thinking makes noise in your head? It’s more like the sound of white noise. What is white noise?what a strange name.
I notice that too, except for me it’s in the space of the room. I wonder if it’s that everything seems to wired with these invisible waves. White noise, yes, is a strange name.
This week I remixed my music, moving songs that make me feel strong to the top of the playlist. It seemed important to listen to music, if this is to be a week of intentional listening. Then, they came, those other sounds. Humming of the fridge, crackling of the fireplace, my own deep breathing, the piercing beeping of the garbage truck backing into place, the hammering, dropping, clanging, drilling of neighbours construction, the vibration of the train rumbling across the bridge and the train whistle disappearing into the distance, the Skytrain screeching across its tracks. I thought it was quiet in my home until I started to listen. It started with soft whooshing in my ears. Outside new sounds, squishy boots in the muddy soil, burbling baby water fall, crows cawing in unison, seagulls screeching alone, tiny unseen birds chirping in bushes, freighter ships burbling and clanging as they unload their cargo and tug boats tooting. Standing still and closing my eyes I hear a small bus, a large delivery truck, a small car, a large cement type truck, a loud 'mufferless' truck-each with its own sound- I didn't know I knew these sounds and could pick out vehicles without seeing. I would have missed the silent electric car if it wasn't for the whooshing of tires on wet pavement and opening my eyes in time to catch it all. The silence of the trees is not so silent, hidden tiny birds chirping away, wind rustling the branches and wind whirling past my own ears, the brook and water fall in the distance, the falling of twigs loosened after a big wind, the quiet sound in a cluster of trees, the loud sound moving into the open space. Wonderful Kim, I must say I had my doubts, now I'm hooked. Thanks so much!
Yay! I loved hearing about everything you heard. So much there we don’t normally register.
I have a childhood memory of walking outside in December at night and hearing the squeak of snow under my boots. It’s a sound that has stayed with me for decades. Standing at the top of a hill as the light fades, with kids still tobogganing, listening delight in children’s voices and the swoosh as they slid down the hill. The swooshes keep me present yet also take me back in time.
Earlier this week I walked along the Don River Trail in Toronto. It’s within easy reach of my house so it’s convenient, but not the greatest trail because it’s so close to the Don Valley Parkway. On this occasion, I blocked the sound of traffic by using headphones and listened to instrumental music (I can drift in and out, listening differently than I would to music with vocals).
I took the headphones off at one point, the Don River, and I was struck by the sounds the river makes; how my reaction was almost visceral, though it was just the sound of the river against its banks. I had a reaction similar to being on coastal shoreline.
It reminded me of a video that focuses on sounds a landscape photographer might hear on location. It’s clever, and inspires me to listen carefully to what’s around me:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3qXmJ-HKWo