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At some point last year, I fell into an all-too-easy habit of letting my phone join in morning walks with Junior Pup. It started innocently enough, helpfully even. Experience enhancing. The Merlin app to identify bird calls; Seek for unknown plants; the camera to snap quick photos. But slowly, inevitably, the Distraction Creep began. Answering a quick text. Drafting an e-mail. Why not make a class playlist and do a quick Babbel lesson while we’re at it? Might as well catch up on the news before getting home.
If you’ve ever walked with an off-leash dog on a country road while distracted, you know that they are excellent at noticing that your attention has been diverted. One minute you’re composing a letter to your member of congress - the next your pal is a quarter mile away chasing a groundhog or, better yet, rolling in skunk poop.
Saturday, with an empty battery and a full mind, I left the phone at home and undertook the novel task of just walking. Instead of trying to capture a photo, I looked. Instead of trying in vain to make a sound recording, I listened to the gorgeous music of the thawing countryside.
Phones are garbage at discernment. In particular, I’ve noticed that every time I try and make a sound recording, no matter what sounds I’m trying to capture, the main thing I catch is the two-miles-away freeway which, even though lightly trafficked, has an unmistakable roar. Sure, the problem could be solved with better technology, but I have a suspicion that a giant bag of recording equipment and an enthusiastic 2-year-old lab might be a tricky combination.
Humans, on the other hand, are fabulous at what science calls “auditory selective attention” and frustrated partners the world over call selective listening. The good news is that we can choose what we tune out - and to what we tune in. Put the phone down on a walk and take a listen for a moment and you may notice that you can pick up small, distinct sounds: the rustling of leaves, the trickle of a small stream, individual bird calls. Once you try it, it’s a fun game:
What’s the farthest sound you can hear? What about the closest? Lowest? Highest? Fastest? Slowest? How many different sounds can you pick out?
Maybe you can’t get out of the house today, or your mobility is limited. You can still play - either by simply opening a window, or by putting on headphones and choosing any piece of music at all.
My favorite music of all, this week, has been the sudden, joyful chorus of wood frogs waking up from their long winter’s nap, signaling, unmistakably, the arrival of the season of stirring and rising sap and song.
Take a walk, go to your window, put on a piece of music you love. What do you hear?
By Havala SchumacherAt some point last year, I fell into an all-too-easy habit of letting my phone join in morning walks with Junior Pup. It started innocently enough, helpfully even. Experience enhancing. The Merlin app to identify bird calls; Seek for unknown plants; the camera to snap quick photos. But slowly, inevitably, the Distraction Creep began. Answering a quick text. Drafting an e-mail. Why not make a class playlist and do a quick Babbel lesson while we’re at it? Might as well catch up on the news before getting home.
If you’ve ever walked with an off-leash dog on a country road while distracted, you know that they are excellent at noticing that your attention has been diverted. One minute you’re composing a letter to your member of congress - the next your pal is a quarter mile away chasing a groundhog or, better yet, rolling in skunk poop.
Saturday, with an empty battery and a full mind, I left the phone at home and undertook the novel task of just walking. Instead of trying to capture a photo, I looked. Instead of trying in vain to make a sound recording, I listened to the gorgeous music of the thawing countryside.
Phones are garbage at discernment. In particular, I’ve noticed that every time I try and make a sound recording, no matter what sounds I’m trying to capture, the main thing I catch is the two-miles-away freeway which, even though lightly trafficked, has an unmistakable roar. Sure, the problem could be solved with better technology, but I have a suspicion that a giant bag of recording equipment and an enthusiastic 2-year-old lab might be a tricky combination.
Humans, on the other hand, are fabulous at what science calls “auditory selective attention” and frustrated partners the world over call selective listening. The good news is that we can choose what we tune out - and to what we tune in. Put the phone down on a walk and take a listen for a moment and you may notice that you can pick up small, distinct sounds: the rustling of leaves, the trickle of a small stream, individual bird calls. Once you try it, it’s a fun game:
What’s the farthest sound you can hear? What about the closest? Lowest? Highest? Fastest? Slowest? How many different sounds can you pick out?
Maybe you can’t get out of the house today, or your mobility is limited. You can still play - either by simply opening a window, or by putting on headphones and choosing any piece of music at all.
My favorite music of all, this week, has been the sudden, joyful chorus of wood frogs waking up from their long winter’s nap, signaling, unmistakably, the arrival of the season of stirring and rising sap and song.
Take a walk, go to your window, put on a piece of music you love. What do you hear?