By Julie Upmeyer

I was startled by the sound of chickens last week, which is strange considering I live directly adjacent to a huge flock of them. Their banter is a near constant backdrop to many of our activities here. Normally I don’t hear them at all. My brain automatically edits that channel out, leaving my mind open to focus on other sounds. The reason that I jumped, I realised shortly afterwards, was not the sound itself but the direction from which the sound came. Inexplicably, the sound had echoed in such a way that it seemed to be coming from the front of our house instead of the back – for a fleeting moment, my brain perceived there to be chickens in our area and not that of our neighbours. My mind and body sprung to action in response. No chickens.

I don’t hear the clock in our house unless I choose to listen.

I don’t hear the refrigerator gently humming.

There are other, more urgent sounds.

Yet they mingle together.

Where do they go?

Proposition:

Next time you step outside, instead of popping in your earbuds to listen to something along the way, play it out loud. Add a layer of sound, augment the existing soundscape instead of replacing it.   

I hear through my ears, an incredible tool conveniently attached to either side of my head, which can rotate at a moment’s notice. My ear can change sound waves into electrical signals, kindly received and interpreted by my brain. This also works in reverse, the brain sends signals to the ear as well. Other beings interpret these soundwaves in different ways, depending on their particular needs for navigation, defence and sustaining themselves and their families. Can you imagine hearing an oncoming storm? Or your unborn baby inside its egg?

Silence.

Nearly Impossible.

Even if and when the outside world quiets, our ears go into overdrive.

Hiss.

Blood pumping in your head.

Breath.

Digestion.

Auditory hallucinations.

Proposition:

Next time you sense silence, stop. What might appear when other, more prominent sounds are absent? Let your attention wander. Outside, within.

Julie is a partner in Utopias Bach.

See her Utopias Bach project, Succession, here