FOREWORD
For the final instalment of the series we're investigating the power of hearing. As was glossed over in the first article, in such a busy modern day we are bombarded from all sides with useless information, and our senses overloaded to the point of confusion. Many of us manage to switch off, dulling the senses to the point where we become desensitised and un-alert, just so that we can cope with the barrage of seeming pointlessness.
Sentinel intelligence is not just important to survival, it's important to our relationships, and most of all to the rich personal experience of life. As storytellers I cannot help but feel that our creativity suffers as we become jaded and out of touch with the natural world by shutting ourselves off.
So as I have explored ways to concentrate on and to fine-tune singular senses in these exercises, with the focus on a single primary object, the same will apply in this exercise with the focus being on recorded sounds (or organic sounds if you prefer).
1
LISTEN
Listen to my voice, and to my breathing between each sentence I speak. There's a cigarette burning to my left, which I pick up every minute, tapping the ash into the tray before taking a long, satisfying drag and breathily releasing a billow of smoke into the room, before carrying on with my message.
Actually I'm saying a few words per sentence out loud as I punch away nimbly at the keyboard, typing up my smart-arsery quickly, in the hopes that I can soon turn off my PC. It's overheating, the processor crunching, while the extractor fan blasts like the engine of a plane warming up for takeoff.
Outside every second or third car is a raging wind, metallic shadows rushing by at a furious speed. The gentle breeze on the air, by comparison, might seem an empty platitude in response to my conscious wish for peace and quiet. But it caresses the tree at my window to sleep, gentler than any hand rocks a cradle, with a barely audible "shhhhh..."
My temples throbbing with the hush of hot blood, I ignore the slowing of the traffic, like the distancing of passing thunder, favourable of the lonely workman's ambience at my own desk, and I hope for the world to be done with its noise by the time I lay siege to my sleep.
2