Deep Listening Is More Than What We Hear

Aug 26

7 min read

Updated: Sep 8

We hear all the time.

The refrigerator humming in the kitchen. A notification from our phone. Traffic in the distance. Someone talking in the next room.

Even when we are outside, our attention is often somewhere else. We may walk through a forest while thinking about our to-do list, sit beside a creek while scrolling through our phones, or watch the leaves move overhead without ever really noticing the wind that set them in motion.

But what happens when we begin to pay attention? Not just to what we hear, but to everything that is happening around us?

This is where my thoughts have been lately as I prepare to offer a Deep Listening Soundwalk at Buds in Bloom. And the more I learn, the more I realize that deep listening may be about much more than our ears.

Sound Is Part of How We Experience a Place

A forest is not a silent place. There are birds calling to one another, insects moving through the grasses, leaves responding to the wind, and water making its way over stone. Sometimes the sounds are obvious. Other times, they are so subtle that we don't notice them until something else becomes quiet.

Recent research is helping us understand just how much sound may contribute to our experience of nature. In a 2025 study published in Scientific Reports, researchers explored what happened when people experienced forest soundscapes without actually being in a forest. Participants listened to recordings of natural environments, including birdsong, running water, wind and rain, while another group listened to recordings of industrial environments.

After 30 minutes, those exposed to the forest sounds showed improvements in mood, perceived restoration and aspects of cognition compared with those who listened to industrial sounds.

I find this especially interesting because the researchers were essentially pulling one piece of the nature experience apart. There were no trees to look at, no forest air to breathe, no changing temperature beneath a canopy, and no feeling of the ground beneath their feet. There was simply sound. And yet, the sound itself appeared to matter.

At the same time, the study did not find the same changes in physiological measures such as heart rate, blood pressure, cortisol or immune function.

That distinction is important. It doesn't mean that forest sounds don't matter. It suggests something more nuanced: sound may be one important piece of a much larger, multisensory experience.

When we step into a forest, our bodies are taking in an entire environment. We see the trees and the movement of light. We breathe in the air, including volatile organic compounds released by plants and trees, often referred to as phytoncides. We feel changes in temperature and humidity. We move our bodies, slow our pace and engage multiple senses at once.

Research into forest bathing has found associations between time in forest environments and changes in measures such as heart rate, blood pressure and autonomic nervous system activity, although researchers are still working to understand exactly which elements of the forest experience contribute to those changes and how they interact.

So perhaps the more interesting question isn't whether sound or nature is beneficial. Perhaps it is: What happens when we begin to notice the individual pieces of a living environment that we usually experience as one whole?

And what might happen when we intentionally give one of those pieces our full attention?

Quiet Is Not the Same as Silence

When we think of quiet, we often imagine the absence of sound. But some of the quietest places are full of life: a meadow buzzing with insects, a creek moving steadily over rocks, a forest alive with birdsong at dawn.

Quiet does not necessarily mean nothing is happening. Sometimes quiet simply gives us the space to notice what is already there.

This is part of what I find so interesting about Quiet Parks International. QPI assesses quiet places not simply by looking at an average decibel level, but by considering the experience of the soundscape. One of its quiet criteria includes having at least 15 uninterrupted minutes without human-caused noise in the wilderness.

Think about sitting in a peaceful landscape when an airplane passes overhead. The sound changes the experience. And because the quiet has been interrupted, it matters even if the airplane is only there for a short time.

Or imagine standing in a beautiful meadow with a power line cutting across the horizon. The power line may not make a sound, but we still see it. Its presence can change our experience of the landscape.

Our senses do not operate in separate little boxes. We are always taking in the whole landscape: sound, sight, vibration, movement and perhaps even the feeling of a place.

That is part of what makes deep listening so much more interesting than simply asking, “What can I hear?”

Deep Listening Can Happen Without Hearing

As I began thinking about sound, I found myself reflecting on something else. What about those who experience the world differently?

A person does not need to hear birdsong to have a deep relationship with a forest. They may notice movement, light, color, texture, the vibration of something moving through the ground, the changing pressure of the air before a storm, the subtle movement of leaves or the presence of another living being.

This is one of the things I love about forest therapy. There is no single correct way to experience nature. Our relationship with the more-than-human world is not limited to one sense.

The Association of Nature and Forest Therapy Guides and Programs even offers guide training in American Sign Language, reflecting a broader understanding that nature connection and forest therapy are not dependent on hearing.

And perhaps deep listening can be understood in the same way. Not as hearing more, but as becoming more receptive. More curious. More aware of what is happening within and around us.

What Are We Listening For?

Maybe we are listening for the obvious: a bird calling from somewhere high in the trees, the creek after a rain, or the rustle of a deer moving through the woods.

But perhaps we are also listening for things that do not arrive as sound.

The way the light changes. A vibration we feel before we understand its source. A shift in temperature. A flash of movement at the edge of our vision. The colors that seem to change as the day moves toward evening.

Perhaps we are listening for the feeling that comes when we realize we are not simply standing in nature. We are standing within a living community.

There is so much happening around us all the time. Most of it does not ask for our attention, and perhaps that is why it is so easy to miss.

We have become very good at directing our attention toward what demands it: the notification, the deadline, the conversation, the next thing.

Nature rarely demands our attention in the same way.

A tree does not send us an alert when the light changes across its leaves. A creek does not ask us to look up. A bird does not need us to understand its name before its call can reach us.

The living world is constantly offering information. The question is whether we are available to receive it.

Listening Changes When We Slow Down

Perhaps this is why slowing down matters so much.

When we move quickly through a landscape, our attention tends to become selective. We notice where we are going, watch for obstacles, and think about what comes next.

But when we slow our pace, something changes. We have more opportunity to notice what was already there.

The sound that seemed distant becomes closer. The breeze becomes something we can feel against our skin. A birdcall we might normally dismiss becomes part of a larger conversation. The rustling grass reveals movement. The creek becomes more than background noise. It becomes one element in a living soundscape.

Forest therapy often invites us into this kind of slower attention. There is no goal of getting somewhere. There is no expectation that we need to identify every species or understand every sound. Instead, we are invited to become curious about our experience.

And curiosity changes the way we pay attention.

What Science Is Beginning to Ask

One of the things I find exciting about newer nature research is that scientists are beginning to ask more specific questions.

Rather than simply asking whether time in nature is beneficial, researchers are starting to explore the individual elements of the experience. What role does sound play? What about what we see? What happens when different senses work together?

The 2025 forest soundscape study is part of a larger effort to better understand the contribution of individual sensory experiences to the benefits associated with nature.

Other recent research suggests that the restorative qualities of natural sound are not explained only by whether we like what we hear. In one 2025 study, nature sounds continued to show benefits related to mental fatigue even when the recordings were degraded and participants liked them less.

There is still so much to learn. But I find something hopeful in the questions themselves.

We are beginning to look more closely at the details of our relationship with the natural world.

Not just, Is nature good for us?

But:

What is happening when we are there?

And perhaps just as importantly:

What happens when we truly pay attention?

Listening to the Living World

Maybe deep listening is not about collecting sounds. It is not about identifying every bird, creating the perfect recording, or finding a place where there is no human-made noise.

Perhaps deep listening is about relationship.

It is about allowing ourselves to become aware of what is already happening around us. To notice that we are part of a place rather than separate from it. To recognize that the forest is not a backdrop for our experience. It is a living community in its own right.

The trees, birds, insects, water, soil, wind and weather are all participating in something that was happening long before we arrived.

When we become quiet enough to notice, we aren't making the forest come alive.

We are realizing that it was alive all along.