This last weekend was my first time ever experiencing the wonders of Joshua Tree National Park. More importantly, however, it was my first time learning how to effectively use my ears to truly listen to my surroundings. When I initially tried focusing on the delicate, crisp sounds of this rich landscape, I simply thought that the soundscape was empty, that there was nothing to sustain anyone’s attention. I was embarrassingly wrong.

As I listened more closely, I could begin to hear the ever-so-faint thudding sounds of a bird flapping its wings, the calming buzz of insects flying through the frigid air, and the wind gently rustling through the thick leaves of the Joshua trees. It was selfish of me to think that there could ever truly be silence, as if humans and our creations are the only things that can sonically occupy an ecosystem. Rather, humans are often the ones who interrupt these ethereal sonic ecosystems, like the planes that rumbled overhead from the early morning all the way through sunset.

Above all, this weekend demonstrated the disconnect between all of the sounds that enter our ears on a second-to-second basis, and how much of it that we actually cognize. From the moment I packed up and left this stunning place, I was already more humble than I was before I arrived. Now, I have officially embarked on the journey toward rich, rewarding sonic awareness.