Relative Something

One of the clearest ways for me to recognize being awake at night is when I start hearing sounds. Usually, it’s the change from not hearing anything that I find noteworthy. Think about it. When I suddenly notice a sound, it reveals that I wasn’t hearing anything before that.

There is a different version of not hearing sounds, too. When they are too familiar to us, sounds begin to be filtered out. But that is not the same as hearing nothing at all.

Have you ever noticed how frequently TV and filmmakers include sounds of distant dog barking in their soundtracks? What that’s done for me is to cause me to notice when I hear that same distant bark in the real world. I’ve decided it’s as common as those filmmakers make it seem.

The other day, a large flock of migrating birds showed up in one of our trees for a short pause in their journey, making a fantastic racket. Suddenly, for no reason we could detect, they fell silent in an instant. That was something to hear.

I wish I knew who among the thousands of birds in that tree triggered the stoppage and how they all picked up on it and shut up as quickly as they did. Seconds later, they all started chattering again.

There is something that nobody should be listening to this time of year. Well, any time of year, really. Ridiculous lies of desperate people. Whether it seems too good to be true or irritates deeply, don’t give what is said any credence until it can be proven it didn’t come from foreign interests with skills in AI audio or video manipulation.

Assume it is malicious first, and then allow the truth to be revealed in due time.

With Halloween approaching fast, ghoulish drama is all the rage. All those sounds in the dark of night suddenly seem spookier than usual. I’m not one who fears mean ghosts are lurking in my house and making mysterious clicking, creaking, and sighing noises. We live in a log house. As the air gets dry and temperatures drop, the structure makes sounds like it must be coming apart at the seams.

Moving my body across the floor of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom at 2 a.m. sets off so much structural groaning, clicking, and popping that I feel like I must weigh three times more than I do. I’m always surprised the sounds don’t wake Cyndie or Asher.

Back to what I hear when falling asleep, I can tell when slumber is imminent when I notice the only thing I’m hearing is my own blood flow moving with each heartbeat.

When you reach that point, it’s handy if your hearing automatically filters out any sounds of barking in the distance.

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