Mindfulness at 100 Decibels

We hear sounds all day, every day, yet rarely do we stop to think about our relationship with them.

Whether we choose to hear them or not, our waking environment consists of a myriad of different sounds – conversations, devices, traffic, machinery, birdsong…. Yet, hearing doesn’t fully capture the experience, because we feel sound too. It affects us physically and emotionally, consciously or not.

A dripping tap or a ticking clock may be relatively quiet yet still be immensely irritating. Yet at a gig with blaring music, or a football match with a deafening roar, we can still feel absolute joy, excitement, or elation.

So what is it about sound that makes one experience irritating and another exhilarating? Is it simply the volume, the sound itself, or something about the way we experience it?

I recently watched the Oasis Don’t Look Back In Anger documentary and I found myself pondering what happens when tens of thousands of people are gathered together in one enormous soundscape.

Crowds of people completely enveloped by the sound waves, singing, dancing and bouncing up and down in unison. Tens of thousands of people, one movement. Not just hearing the music, they were the music.

Sound can capture us. In the documentary, there’s a clip from a vigil where someone begins to sing. One by one, others join in until the song is carried by hundreds of voices, singing in unison.

I found the moment incredibly moving. There was something about the song, the circumstances and the way individual voices came together that gave me goosebumps, even watching it on screen. Something in that moment resonated with people, drawing them into a shared experience that was greater than any one voice.

 In both moments, sound seemed to do more than simply fill the space. It drew people into the experience itself. At the concert, thousands became one movement; at the vigil, individual voices became one.

We can think of a soundscape as an anchor. When our minds are turbulent—flooded with overthinking, grief, or everyday anxiety—silence can feel like being adrift with nothing to hold onto. A powerful external soundscape gives the restless mind a single, grounding post to tie itself to, quieting the internal noise.

At the concert, the sound wasn't a distraction. It was drawing them into the moment. And this is where deep connection can be found — when the noise of the active mind quietens, rather than when there is simply no external noise.

So we don't necessarily need less sound. We just need a different relationship with it — one that connects us rather than simply distracts us. And stillness can be found in silence, or in the middle of a rock concert.