Practising Presence 3: A Soak in Sound
Today we head into the second week of our adventure in being here now.
This week, as well as the ongoing invitation to take a daily dose of presence by being interruptible, I'm encouraging you to bring your awareness to your hearing and take a soak in sound.
As always, if this sensory pathway into presence isn’t available or doesn’t appeal to you, please adapt or replace the practice to suit you. I truly believe that any pathway into presence is as good as any other.
I love the phrase “a soak in sound”. It reminds me of a sound bath - something I’m yet to experience but am eager to try. In case it’s new to you, a sound bath is a immersive experience during which participants lie down and are “bathed” in the sound waves generated by instruments or the human voice. An ancient history and claims of deep relaxation make the experience attractive to me but until I can find a class, I’m going to continue with what already helps me to soak in sound…
...walking beneath trees and listening to the birds.
A friend recently asked me what I do on my daily walks and I was genuinely confused. He clarified what he meant by asking what I listen to while I walk - podcasts or music. The question surprised me because it never occurs to me to listen to either; not because I don’t enjoy podcasts or music but because when I’m walking in nature I want the sound track to be nature.
Reflecting on why this never feels boring, I’ve realised something: every season sounds different. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the quiet creakiness of winter is slowly giving way to the bright, staccato notes of spring. Soon spring will crescendo into the happy din of summer before mellowing out into the more subtle rustle of autumn. I leave my headphones at home because I don't want to miss my daily sound bath.
My nature guide tells me that this week adult blackbirds are singing their full song instead of their subsong (the shorter version sung outside of breeding season). Apparently they are best heard just after sunset so, wanting to hear them, I’ve been trying to go for a bonus early evening walk around the park. Failing that, I've been sticking my head out the kitchen door while cooking dinner. To be honest, I’m not great at identifying birdsong but I think I am hearing them. Either way, it's a beautiful way to celebrate another sundown and another little opportunity to soak in sound. I’ve noticed that not being able to see the birds helps me listen. My vision surrendered, I listen for the sounds that may come from any direction.
I love nature’s sound bath but I also love music, especially live music performed somewhere with good acoustics. I used to sing in choirs and enjoyed the experience of being surrounded by sound, especially when we were in a big, echoey space. One summer, we went on tour to Mexico City and sang in a cave. The sound went on and on, the audio version of a hall of mirrors. When it finally went quiet, no one wanted to break the silence. It was as though the cave was still singing, just too quietly for us to hear. Nobody wanted to interrupt.
People talk about hearing God and I wonder what they mean. Because I’m a spiritual director, I get to ask and rarely do people describe an audible voice. It varies, of course, but when people unpack their experiences of “hearing God”, what they mostly find is an inner knowing that they intuitively recognise and trust. But even though it’s rare for someone to describe a sensory experience of hearing God, I wonder if that’s more because we’re too narrowly defining an encounter with God through our hearing. Perhaps it’s more common than we think to hear God in the midst of listening to nature, to music, to each other. Not as a separate voice but as a vibration within all voices, a resonance our souls recognise as real and here. I wonder whether that’s what we were hearing in the stillness of that cave.
This week, I’m not going to suggest a particular practice. Instead, I invite you to live with your ears open, ready for opportunities to soak in sound. Explore nature’s sound bath, immerse yourself in your favourite music, notice the melody of your friend’s laughter. Listen for what mindfulness practitioners call “the sounds beneath the sounds” and leave space for vibrations to settle. Don’t work too hard or force your experiences to mean anything, just receive the sounds and notice the resonance in your body and in your soul.
As always, you are very welcome to let me know how it goes. I would love to hear from you.
Jen x