This soundwalk took place in London, Ontario near Masonville Mall, which is located at 1680 Richmond Street North. The soundwalk began outdoors in the North mall parking lot, making a half loop around the mall, then through the outdoor courtyard of a residential housing complex, and ending with a short stretch of walking Northbound on Richmond Street.

 

The mall parking lot was quiet and not many cars or people were present during the time of my soundwalk. Near the housing complex, there were many parked cars and only three people that I could see and hear walking through the parking lot. The outdoor courtyard was free of people, but filled with green space, gardens and beautiful noise from nature, birds, and other animals.

 

They say what you eat for breakfast sets the tone for the day. That healthy food fuels good energy and a positive mindset. I learned, through this assignment, that this holds true for sound as well. What I heard this morning changed my perspective and mood for the day ahead and calmed my anxiety from the get-go. By listening to sounds and noise on my walk, I gained a profound sense of awareness for my environment and the soundscape that livens what I see, the things I do, my sense of space and time, and how I feel on a routine basis.

The soundwalk discussed in this reflection was conducted at 6:30am on October 4th, 2021, outside of Masonville mall and around the Richmond and Fanshawe area. I walked with the intention of retrieving my daily coffee from Starbucks but came back with much more than a coffee. Quickly into my walk, I forgot about my destination (coffee). I had the opportunity to experience beautiful sounds of ambient stillness, chirping, white noise, and natural keynotes from wind, animals, and air to break my fast of (unconscious) silence while asleep. These sounds were different from those I’m used to hearing outside. This is because I rarely make an effort to be present in the experience of listening to the soundscape of my environment early in the day.

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While walking I listened closely to the stillness of the morning air and the transient undertones of nature and animals ‘talking’ in the distance. I heard sounds of fall: leaves flowing in the wind, sweeping across the ground, and being stepped on by shoes and feet — those of my own, of others and of animals. I heard wisping sounds from trees as their leaves and branches swiftly rubbed against one another. I heard the acceleration and deceleration of wind as traffic passed by and as I moved from the elevated mall parking lot to the one on street level. I heard faint sounds made by cars, birds, and nature, whether ahead or behind me, and sounds produced by the unique movements made by everything around me. I heard birds, geese, insects and chirping - lots of it. I could feel the excitement and depth of conversations being held by animals just by listening closely to the intensity, volume, and charisma of chirping, for instance, in certain locations. This was a soundmark in the exceptionally and almost uncomfortably quiet space outside the mall before its opening hour.

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I noticed the layering of sounds and the comforting ambiance yielded by it during my walk. The sound of my keys dangling in my hand, shifting tone and intensity with the pace of my walking, was always in the background. This sound moved with me, serving as a keynote in the soundscape. Layered on top of this were sounds of nature ‘talking’ (birds chirping, insects buzzing, and other faint animal noises), and on top of that, cyclical sound patterns of traffic and ambient keynotes like wind, nature, and other man-made or manufactured noise. Whatever was loudest and closest was the last layer, but together, these layers formed a brilliant fall playlist.

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Walking on Richmond Street I heard cars, exhaust, tires scrapping, and braking against concrete. I heard the bus approaching from behind me before I saw it coming. The sounds of the bus coming to a stop, releasing its exhaust, and lowering to the ground signaled both its presence and purpose. Near the end of my walk, I heard the bus again. Hearing that sound signaled it had been ten minutes, and I didn't have to look at my watch to know that. This soundwalk helped me realize how sound influences perceptions of time and space and its overall significance as a temporal marker: the presence of a specific sound can provide a signal indicating not only its presence, but also when to expect something or someone to re-enter a certain space again.

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The clicking sound yielded from the meeting of my key-fob and the plastic sensor signaled to me that the door to my apartment building was unlocked and thus able to be opened. As I walked inside the building, outside noise faded, creating an echo that sharpened the sounds of my footsteps walking up the stairs.

Having lived downtown Toronto for most of my life, I’m used to hearing things all the time; ambient noise, audible ‘clutter,’ chaotic noise, concerning noise and anxiety provoking sounds have always been in the background in my lifestyle. This is likely why I often feel uncomfortable in silence or alone with my thoughts. It’s something I have learned comes with my anxiety, but also something that influences it. It’s also likely why I get impatient when listening to slow songs or meditation music. I always resort to rap, hip hop, and upbeat music — the type of music that, ironically, feeds my anxiety and cancels out the ‘loudness’ of my thoughts and stressful noise around me. Through this exercise, I was forced to appreciate quiet time, time alone with myself and nature in the background. I’m happy I did. Performing this soundwalk in the morning allowed me to beat the morning rush, in a sense -- to slow the pace of my thinking and focus on the present. I felt more connected to myself, the landscape (both visual and sonic), and in tune with my thoughts and emotions. I learned from this activity that listening critically and paying close attention to the details of a soundscape can help calm my own anxiety.

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I thought it would be hard to find ‘good’ sounds or to those worthy and/or loud enough to include in this recording. However, I thought wrong because once I got outside, I realized the soundscape was beautiful as it was: unedited. All sounds have an origin, and so I think it's a beautifully intimate experience to hear sounds intensifying from them. During my soundwalk I encountered a bush filled with birds chirping loudly. I would likely find this sound annoying if I had to hear it for too long, but it was so nice to hear birds playing and see them flying around each other. These birds were having fun living their lives and I got to hear all about it! Noise and sound, regardless of intensity, volume, or perceived degree of relevance, is important because without either, how can we, as individuals of society, connect with ourselves and other people, things, and places? I got to understand today what birds do when they play (make LOTS of noise); maybe that’s their way of laughing? Crying? Singing? Either way, they were connecting, and it was surprisingly refreshing to get a glimpse into these good vibes just by listening.

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This soundwalk pushed me out of my comfort zone and encouraged me to listen critically to sounds I rarely think about — or those I tell myself I don't have time to think about. The truth is this: finding time to appreciate sound is, for me, a new way to help myself. I have learned that sound and noise is big part of healthy living, wellbeing, and mental health. Beyond what I heard physically, though, was intuitive self-listening: I could actually hear myself think without outside noise like music from headphones overpowering my thoughts. I loved every minute of this.