In Part I, I explored similarities between listening to patients and staff at the hospital and my contemplative field recording practice. I focused on listening inwardly, to our internal soundscape while exploring ways in which contemplative practice may help build a healthy self-awareness that can form the basis of stronger relationships with others and our environment. In Part II, still drawing parallels with listening as a chaplain, I want to move outwards, into the soundscape and then explore another, distinct facet of contemplative practice - ‘listening’ with expansive awareness. The thread that weaves its way through these two posts is an attitude of care, a compassionate attentiveness in listening that I recognise now as the basis of a contemplative approach to field recording.
Active Listening
In sensitive conversations with patients, slowing things down and honouring silences can help things unfold in their own time, following their own path. Giving a patient the time to find and explore what is important for them is crucial, but so too is coming to the encounter with a sense of space, unhurried, rooted and with a stable attention. Even in shorter conversations, an update to a colleague or a "how's things?" to a ward clerk, I have the opportunity to listen deeply, giving that person my full presence and attention. In field recording I notice that the desire to ‘get a result,’ whatever that might sound like, can similarly prevent me from allowing the soundscape to tell its story. When I am looking to extract or capture what I want, what I need to move on with a project, I cannot really be present and open. In some, often subtle, way I am carried-off by an imagined end goal. Even when I am recording for a particular project, the results are often more interesting if I can put my projections and predictions to one side and remain open to the unexpected. Having time to fully and openly explore a soundscape can feel like a luxury when life is busy and demanding, but I have to remind myself that it only takes a few seconds to ground myself and set the intention to listen with care and openness. For me, resting my intention on the breath, setting an intention to listen care-fully and then moving my attention outwards to explore the soundscape for a few seconds, is a realistically short practice that has over the years become almost second-nature. But this is just one way of grounding and listening care-fully. Contemplative field recording practices offer a range of ways to let go of what pulls us away from care-full listening. Here's a few ideas...
Just Listening
When field recording, a simple starting point can be intentionally taking time to explore and connect with a soundscape without or before pressing record. On the one hand, this gives me some space to notice my own urges, perhaps a desire to capture and share my listenings, to anticipate what I will hear, to move on to some more interesting location or notice the worry “what if I don’t press record and miss capturing something?”. Recognising these impulses, I can try inviting them to take a back seat while I continue to listen. Delaying pressing the red button affords me the opportunity to sense my place in the environment, my connection with the soundscape, what I am drawn to, or perhaps what is drawing me. If you are a field recordist or photographer, perhaps you recognise some of this in your practice?
Durational Listening
The recording above was made for the Wychwood Forest Trust on International Dawn Chorus Day (IDCD) in May. While summoning the motivation to rise before dawn is never easy, this yearly appointment prompts me to make durational recordings, appreciating the emergence of sonic activity with the arrival of daylight. While wildlife recordists will be all too familiar with the patience, persistence and warm layers required for the job, for most, making durational recordings is not only novel but a luxury. Yet even spending 20 to 30 minutes in a single spot can switch you on to the nuances of a soundscape and, thinking back to my last post, gives us time to notice how our bodies, minds and moods change over time. Noticing how a soundscape unfolds over time can be an act of care.
Exhaustive Listening
Again, if you have the time, another very powerful technique is that of exhaustive listening. This involves limiting yourself to a given space, then listening and recording in every way by which you have means. Back in 2017, an artist residency with local art charity ‘Jelly’ gave me the opportunity to explore this practice. I was offered the opportunity to listen and respond to an empty retail space; the Bagel Shaq, on the site of locally renowned department store; Jackson’s. At the time, the space was almost entirely cleared for redevelopment, sporting just a hollowed out shopfront and a small shared kitchen at the rear. Over the week, I used an assortment of microphones to explore hidden lighting fixtures, electrical flows, the frog-like croaks of a fridge and the sounds of myself cleaning, sweeping and mopping the empty shop. I found that far from being limiting it was liberating, holding me back from restlessly searching-out sonic gems, instead being satisfied and more connected with the scarce material I had to work with. Setting creative limitations is a well-known technique, that forces artists to more deeply explore what is permitted within the boundaries set. However, this ‘Voluminate’ residency was more than a creative experiment or technique. Spending that week in an empty shop felt like a retreat, a rare time away from the demands of being home-dad and desperately scraping an income from sound work. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, a precious escape from choice, but also from abundance and the demands of my own agendas.
'Voluminate' installation and performance with artist Mark Langley
Unlearned Listening
Another way of subverting our patterns of practice is to pay attention in a way that may uncover what might otherwise be missed. Much like Brian Eno’s oblique strategies cards which are designed to help artists overcome creative blocks and stimulate creativity, simple prompts can help. Having a few questions to hand can get you thinking and exploring in surprising ways, perhaps asking; “what sounds might be buried here?” “how would I hear this differently if I was ant-sized?” “how do surfaces change what I’m hearing?” “how do sounds enter and leave this space?” A very fruitful question can be to ask myself “what am I not hearing?” (Mark Peter-Wright, 2022) An absence in the soundscape, such as a missing bird call, a dry river bed or a lack of human activity, may help me acknowledge the changing ecology of a place. Subverting our patterns of listening can be challenging, but prompts our imagination to open-up unexpected paths of investigation. This allows us to hear other perspectives, to challenge our presumptions and be more care-full about what we are hearing. Just as being open to the perspectives of patients allows me to better understand what is important to them, so too in the field, subverting well-worn patterns of listening allows me to more fully understand an environment, its dynamics, its perspectives, its needs.
Appreciative Listening
Gratitude or appreciation practices are a common feature of many contemplative traditions - typically fostering warm-heartedness towards others whom we love, like, have no feelings for and, in time, even those we dislike or find difficult. While acknowledging what a struggle this can be at times, the practice can really help bring an attitude of appreciation to our listening and foster a strong sense of care. In field recording workshops I treasure those moments when an amplified sound sparks wonder on a participant’s face - a splash in a puddle, the squeals of children playing, the rhythmic beeps and whines of electromagnetic fields in digital signage. I don’t know how much this wonder is sparked by the [re]discovery of a sound and how much simply the act of paying attention, but the combination is something magical. With practice, it can be possible to cultivate something of this wonder or appreciation spontaneously, without amplification or sonic novelty. Although difficult when we’re not 'feeling the love,’ if we can remember to orientate ourselves towards sound in this way and can find the motivation, warm-heartedness can seep into our listening.
Empathic Listening
At the hospital, cultivating the capacity to empathise with the person I am listening to is key to care-full listening and not easy to sustain in caring professions where staff are tired, emotionally drained or overwhelmed by the demands and pressures of the job. In daily life there are endless opportunities to train in and cultivate this sensitive listening - really hearing the underlying ‘tone’ in conversations; listening to the way people open and close doors in order to be sensitive to their mood; hearing a loud conversation as enthusiastically friendly rather than annoyingly intrusive. The empathy that carers need in order to understand and connect with another’s joys and sufferings, has its counterpart in contemplative field recording. In the field, I am more likely to have the luxury of time and the freedom to listen without the social obligation to respond. This offers an uncommon space to play with empathic listening, exploring how I can connect with the soundscape in ways that are meaningful. Extending the range or position of our listening using geophones, UHF [bat] detectors, hydrophones and contact microphones helps me connect with the sound-worlds of other species, exploring and acknowledging the ways in which their welfare is intimately linked to my own. In urban environments, the wailing of an ambulance siren offers an opportunity to foster compassion for those in pain and distress. Combined with a contemplative practice, we can take the time to respond to the soundscape with more freedom, compassion and wisdom.
Empathy through a change of perspective - up close with hedgehogs in a local sanctuary, many suffering lungworm and ringworm
In all, listening and field recording in these ways can be incredibly powerful in balancing feelings of cynicism, boredom and annoyance with friendliness, curiosity and active acceptance (acknowledging and exploring thoughts, emotions, and experiences without judgment). Cultivating an orientation of care towards our soundscape can help us feel more connected with the soundscape ‘out there’ and infuse our listening with joy and appreciation.
Listening with Expansive Awareness
I hope the above title makes some sense after you’ve read this paragraph, but in all honesty, I’m finding it quite difficult to articulate what I mean. While trying not to get caught in words, or catch others in my words, the experience of care-full listening is not complete without mention of listening that leads to ‘not-listening’, or at least a quite different experience of listening. I’ll give it a go…
While distinct from my usual experience of sound, care-full, contemplative listening has allowed me to rest, or find a sense of silence or stillness amidst the soundscape (there is good reason why I chose the name ‘a noisy silence!). Through contemplative listening and field recording practice, the shifting attention of my listening has, on occasions settled, rested. While this perhaps feels more like stillness than silence (the sounds are still there, I am resting in them), there is a sense in which my attention is no longer drawn outward or inward, but rests, calm and aware, balancing awareness and attention in fragile equilibrium. I say ‘fragile’ because movements of the mind sooner or later flicker, like sparks that ignite thoughts, drawing me back to a sound or sensation. However, for a short time listening can feel desireless, with no wish to search out or investigate the soundscape, outer or inner. It is such a different experience of listening, I am not even sure it is listening, as there is a strong, expansive, encompassing awareness, without the specific focus I normally associate with listening. It is definitely not ‘zoning-out’ though, which feels more like forgetfulness. In this broader awareness there can be a lessened identification with me as listener, softening the boundary between myself and the world of sound ‘out there.’ While this experience can be quite rare, I would not want to suggest that it is mystical. It feels very restful and quite normal, ‘normal’ not in the sense that it happens frequently, but ‘normal’ in that it feels authentic and natural. Even in less ‘normal’ experiences, when the boundaries of self and other dissolve completely, there is still a need to integrate this short-lived, radical change of perspective back into the everyday, back into an experience of the world that is made up of separate things. With such experiences of listening, what remains, what lasts, is often a sense of peace, a greater appreciation of our interconnection, a deeper reverence for the everyday and a fuller understanding of our togetherness. While sharing this, it is important that 'unusual' or 'peak' experiences are not held up as the pinnacle of contemplative listening or field recording practice. They might just happen sometimes when your mind settles. What seems more important, and more relevant given our busy, distracted lives, is cultivating opportunities for care-full listening, connecting with others and the shared soundscapes we are an integral part of. This care-full listening not only seems to bring a dignity to our lives but, in some strange way, may help us experience meaning directly.
Please take whatever is useful for you and leave the rest. In future posts I plan to share experiences of listening, some exploring particular exercises or approaches, others simply journaling my listenings. Over time, I hope these writings and reflections allow the shape of 'contemplative field recording' to emerge organically.
Take good care of yourself,
Richard.
Whatever brought you here, you are very welcome.
Thank you for listening and do consider sharing your experiences, reflections and wisdom in the comments below or by emailing me at: richard@anoisysilence.com
Resources
Christina Feldman and Willem Kuyken, Mindfulness: Ancient Wisdom meets Modern Psychology (Chpt. 7: The Heart of the Practice pp.144), Guildford Press, 2019
Mark Peter-Wright, Listening After Nature: Field Recording, Ecology, Critical Practice, Bloomsbury, 2022
Carl R. Rogers and Richard E. Farson, Active Listening, Martino Publishing, 2015
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