I’ve been making field recordings for most of my life, and the question I get asked most often isn’t about gear. It’s some version of “where do I even start?” People assume the answer involves an equipment list. It doesn’t.

A few years ago I was leading a soundwalk through a park, the kind of walk where we stop every so often and just stand still and listen. One participant, who had grown up in rural Finland before moving to the States, said something that stuck with me.

Stand in an old growth forest and close your eyes. You will not hear one sound. You will hear dozens, layered on top of each other. Wind moving through different heights of canopy. A woodpecker working a snag somewhere off to your left. Insects at a pitch just under the birds.

Every neighborhood has a sonic identity. Not just a noise level, but a personality, a rhythm, a particular mix of sounds that makes it distinct from anywhere else. The low resonance of a freight train crossing a bridge two miles away. The overlap of languages at a Saturday morning market.

Sonic wellness is the practice of intentionally engaging with your auditory environment to support your health, well-being, and connection to the world around you.