Sense

Inspired by writer Toon Tellegen, I started thinking about what we hear. In his story, the ant and the squirrel build a gigantic ear and point it in different directions to hear what is happening on the other side of the forest, the other side of the ocean and even on the sun.

While reading this, it occurred to me that our hearing has limits. The older we get, the closer by the limits come. But even when we are in our twenties, we can only hear certain things. We cannot hear the footsteps of a caterpillar, and only when we are alone in a room and quite closely, can we hear the ruffling of our canary’s feathers. We can maybe hear mumbling from the neighbours, but we know they are actually pronouncing their words quite nicely.

But it’s not just because things are tiny or behind a wall that we cannot hear them. The further things are, the less we hear them. As I said, in getting older, the distance of our hearing diminishes. Where we could first hear by their footsteps or by the way the open or close doors, exactly which one of our family members came home, and maybe even in what mood, later in life, we can get a scare, because we didn’t even hear them come in. But the distance is limited to start with. I can hear a train coming by, or an airplane flying over in my street. When I try to listen how many cars are in traffic a village over, I cannot. It is a marvel, but a wonderful one.

I cannot imagine the madness of hearing everything. Or for that matter, seeing everything. Walls and size have a similar impact on seeing. Depending on the material of the wall, we sometimes can’t see anything. Smelling is more limited, tasting even more, and the most limited sense would be touch I guess. When I say limited, I keep talking about distance and size. The only way I can touch something is when it is within my reach and of a certain size. There is no apparatus that can help me feel a spec of dust, nor can I ever feel the sun.

That’s it, no lesson, just a cool awareness. Love!

Photo by Magda Ehlers @ Pexels