There’s been a shift in our personal and collective noise standards over the years. When we leave our regular routine, aural stimulation stands out. You notice new sounds. You pay attention to noises that you might not normally hear.
I recently played golf near Chicago’s Midway Airport. For the most part, it was a quiet round of golf. The side street nearby was not wall traveled, and most of the holes did not border any heavily trafficked roads.
This gave our group a sense of silence, a nice bonus any time you swing the clubs. But as the quiet engulfs you, your senses focus more intensely on what’s out there. On the seventh hole, marveling at the peace, my hearing dialed into a low hum in the background.
I turned to one of my partners in the foursome and said, “How close are we to Midway?” Oh, it’s right over there,” he pointed, meaning probably a mile or so away.
The planes were not landing or taking off over us, so we didn’t notice the whine of their engines. But when the quiet of the course settled in, our aural stimulation factor intensified and the light rumble in the distance became noticeable.
This happens all the time in our lives these days – getting hammered by noise we don’t want or like. Smart phones go off in restaurants, car alarms blast, your neighbor’s lawn mower chugs along. They all infringe on our days, and we really don’t think about it.
Then there are the sounds we do like: Our phones going off and the display shows the name and number of a long-term friend; listening to a friend play an original song on the piano; waves crashing in the distance.
A year or so ago, I visited with a great friend in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. He loves to tinker on the piano. I sat out back near a stream, isolating myself, reading a book, when very slightly I heard some tunes that brought back memories from our college days. He revved it up, getting into the rhythm, moving from quickly from one riff to another. His music brought me back to the house.
I stood outside, listening, contemplating, tuning in to the joy and expression coming from the notes, letting it wash over me. So different from many other sounds that bombard us daily that we tend to ignore.
There are fewer sounds like my buddy’s piano these days, it seems to me. Those are the sounds we invite in. We want them.
Too many sounds are uninvited, pushed on us. So we ignore or mask them somehow.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s why iPods have becomes so popular: People want to focus solely on their own music, and block out the outside world. Wearing headphones is a good way to give you sounds you want AND eliminate the unwanted noise. It’s about control.
We recently moved outside Milwaukee to a new house where you can hear turkeys in the woods, kids playing in the house next door, chickens clucking. Because it’s so quiet, each of those stand out. Those are good sounds. We like them. They make you smile and think of nature and your own childhood and how much fun it was to play outside and run around in woods.
That’s the type of aural stimulation we need more of every day – the stuff that builds enjoyable memories and gives you positive feelings. We don’t need an iPod to create that. We only need to find the silence and listen for the vibe.
I recently played golf near Chicago’s Midway Airport. For the most part, it was a quiet round of golf. The side street nearby was not wall traveled, and most of the holes did not border any heavily trafficked roads.
This gave our group a sense of silence, a nice bonus any time you swing the clubs. But as the quiet engulfs you, your senses focus more intensely on what’s out there. On the seventh hole, marveling at the peace, my hearing dialed into a low hum in the background.
I turned to one of my partners in the foursome and said, “How close are we to Midway?” Oh, it’s right over there,” he pointed, meaning probably a mile or so away.
The planes were not landing or taking off over us, so we didn’t notice the whine of their engines. But when the quiet of the course settled in, our aural stimulation factor intensified and the light rumble in the distance became noticeable.
This happens all the time in our lives these days – getting hammered by noise we don’t want or like. Smart phones go off in restaurants, car alarms blast, your neighbor’s lawn mower chugs along. They all infringe on our days, and we really don’t think about it.
Then there are the sounds we do like: Our phones going off and the display shows the name and number of a long-term friend; listening to a friend play an original song on the piano; waves crashing in the distance.
A year or so ago, I visited with a great friend in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. He loves to tinker on the piano. I sat out back near a stream, isolating myself, reading a book, when very slightly I heard some tunes that brought back memories from our college days. He revved it up, getting into the rhythm, moving from quickly from one riff to another. His music brought me back to the house.
I stood outside, listening, contemplating, tuning in to the joy and expression coming from the notes, letting it wash over me. So different from many other sounds that bombard us daily that we tend to ignore.
There are fewer sounds like my buddy’s piano these days, it seems to me. Those are the sounds we invite in. We want them.
Too many sounds are uninvited, pushed on us. So we ignore or mask them somehow.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s why iPods have becomes so popular: People want to focus solely on their own music, and block out the outside world. Wearing headphones is a good way to give you sounds you want AND eliminate the unwanted noise. It’s about control.
We recently moved outside Milwaukee to a new house where you can hear turkeys in the woods, kids playing in the house next door, chickens clucking. Because it’s so quiet, each of those stand out. Those are good sounds. We like them. They make you smile and think of nature and your own childhood and how much fun it was to play outside and run around in woods.
That’s the type of aural stimulation we need more of every day – the stuff that builds enjoyable memories and gives you positive feelings. We don’t need an iPod to create that. We only need to find the silence and listen for the vibe.