One of the loveliest pieces I've seen about Earth Day today is this one, from Mental Floss, about acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton, who works to capture the sounds of nature, and especially the sounds of nature unaffected by human development.
Cool enough, but I'm not quite on board. One of the things I fear about the dichotomy between humankind and nature is that I think it's false. That is, if a beaver dam is natural, how is the Hoover Dam not natural? If the robin's nest in your yard is natural, how is the Empire State Building not natural? If the sound of water rushing down a creek after a rain is natural, how is the sound of the constant flow of the same water rushing through a buried storm drain not natural? One step further, if a deer pees in the woods and you hear it, that's natural, right? If you do? If you hear the soothing, constant trickle of the sanitary sewer beneath your street, is that natural?
Obviously I think yes. So today for Earth Day I'm sharing some videos I've taken along my way, and I ask you to think of each one: natural? or not? Hempton notes there are fewer and fewer places you can go to where you can spend a few minutes without hearing the sound of (other) people. True enough. I have always believed -- and I believe more strongly with each step of this trek -- that true nature is harmony: it's not the absence of humankind, it's the appropriate presence of whatever is there. I have walked the last few treks more and more along enormous roads, built, because people have gone mad, without sidewalks of any sort. This is a terrible experience, but it's no more unnatural than walking down a deerpath, or an Indian path, or a hiking trail. It's lousy, but it's not unnatural.
So here are a few videos, following the lead of the excellent Mr. Hempton, who gathers sounds without humans. Mine were gathered without worry about that. Everyplace I have been there are overhead wires, forest roads, buried cables, bridges. I still love the sounds I hear. Here are a few worth sharing, and worth thinking about. What's natural to you?
Cool enough, but I'm not quite on board. One of the things I fear about the dichotomy between humankind and nature is that I think it's false. That is, if a beaver dam is natural, how is the Hoover Dam not natural? If the robin's nest in your yard is natural, how is the Empire State Building not natural? If the sound of water rushing down a creek after a rain is natural, how is the sound of the constant flow of the same water rushing through a buried storm drain not natural? One step further, if a deer pees in the woods and you hear it, that's natural, right? If you do? If you hear the soothing, constant trickle of the sanitary sewer beneath your street, is that natural?
Obviously I think yes. So today for Earth Day I'm sharing some videos I've taken along my way, and I ask you to think of each one: natural? or not? Hempton notes there are fewer and fewer places you can go to where you can spend a few minutes without hearing the sound of (other) people. True enough. I have always believed -- and I believe more strongly with each step of this trek -- that true nature is harmony: it's not the absence of humankind, it's the appropriate presence of whatever is there. I have walked the last few treks more and more along enormous roads, built, because people have gone mad, without sidewalks of any sort. This is a terrible experience, but it's no more unnatural than walking down a deerpath, or an Indian path, or a hiking trail. It's lousy, but it's not unnatural.
So here are a few videos, following the lead of the excellent Mr. Hempton, who gathers sounds without humans. Mine were gathered without worry about that. Everyplace I have been there are overhead wires, forest roads, buried cables, bridges. I still love the sounds I hear. Here are a few worth sharing, and worth thinking about. What's natural to you?
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To me all these little moments sound like the natural world. I don't like the sound of leaf blowers, but I love the sound of people raking. I don't mind the sound of cars, but I hate the pointlessly loud blat of motorcycles. I hate the constant whir of air conditioners on a summer evening, but I find the buzz of an electric substation oddly comforting.
So listen. And think. That's what Lawson did on his trip, and what I'm trying to do on mine.
And take care of what you value, okay?
So listen. And think. That's what Lawson did on his trip, and what I'm trying to do on mine.
And take care of what you value, okay?
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