If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
When we make the perception and validation by others, of our work, mean more than the personal creative act that it is.
In 1710 George Berkeley, the Irish British philosopher shared his leading principle of thought that the world, as represented by our senses, depends for its existence on being perceived. Meaning that the physical world and material objects are merely collections of ideas and that they only exist when they are perceived.
To be is to be perceived. For a long time I made it mean; to be perceived by others means you are in the game, you matter, I would even go as far as to say, you belong here and are loved. You’re cool.
The other day someone explained to me how an air tag works – floating around hopping from one iPhone’s air drop signal to the other. Not its own beam but a borrowed signal from others.
Last week it hit me that for a long time that is how I felt. Hopping around the gaze in the eyes of my beholders – thinking what are they thinking about me and giving all my energy to making sure it was positive. Never touching the ground like the floor is god damn lava.
The first time I heard the question: If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I paused. Yes it makes a sound! But does it?
When I saw this tree with its two blossoms, pink and white I was struck. How did this happen? Did they blend at the seed or did two stems melt into each other whilst growing. They were definitely shining, minding their own business as trees do and they stopped me in my tracks to admire in wonder.
In this story, I am the tree. Or my creative work is. The many thoughts and projects I did not show. I wrote, and shot, and shaped but I did not share it openly (on the line!) as I internally craved so badly. So one could say it was not perceived.
In the summer of 2022, at 29, I wrote the following:
“I feel alive. I feel like I understand things. Now that I’m almost thirty, I’ve come to understand that I don’t know shit. I didn’t know anything and I still don’t know. I wonder if I ever will.
In ‘the worst person in the world’ (the Nordic film by director Joachim Trier) the main character Julie had a bit of everything all of us carry. All of me — creative, indecisive, messy, fun, young, spiritual, wise, black sheep, against the stream. Not to fit in but I’ve come to understand no one fits in. We all just move, in directions, some unconscious, some against the grain, loudly.
But move we do. In the search for ourselves through others, through things, through careers, lovers and ideas.
It’s like looking for your glasses while they’re on your nose. We don’t think about the most obvious direction to look for ourselves. Within ourselves. Within our mind, our thoughts, our feelings, our patterns. “
Today I am 33 and a wildly different woman. Now I would say beyond our mind, thoughts and feelings and underneath every layer of self. I owed it to my almost 30 year old self to share this wonderful alinea exactly where it was intended to land back then, my substack.
Back to the tree, can you imagine if I had shared this back then, my substack would turn 4 this summer. But I didn’t, does that make it less real, the writing, the growth, the experience? Definitely not. So as to the tree, we will never know if it makes a sound when it falls as we are not there to witness and hear the fall. Whereas I do know that even though my writing was not shared at the time – the life was lived, the experiences were formed, the wisdom was crystalizing. All shaping me to be the creative I am today, carrying the wisdom that comes with living lives.
Yesterday, both me and my internal part stopping me from sharing out of fear and a watertight devotion to perfectionism – finally dropped our egos, met and melted. All of the sudden I saw its last lingering layer, like the residue of a sticker long chipped away at. It was a part of that part that was silently operating like a steady undertow. Making me drag my feet and worst, take me down with it.
Once unmasked it lost its strength and mystery all at once, just like that. Making room for me to witness that part, hear it and hold it lovingly and from there take over from it. I have been perceiving myself and my work, but what I craved was to also be perceived by others so they could hear my sound too. Freeing it form the borders of solely my own gaze.
I got to go beyond the part of the part and reach myself. A place or self where I get to share my way, from within. From devotion and passion and honest enthusiasm. For the love of the idea, the current of the message and the joy of connection. Which is exactly what I am doing now.
Shining all my colours just like this tree!