Hallelujah, Cave Music

In a cave, human senses are altered. Sight is no longer as important. Sound, smell, touch rise to the surface, relaying information to the body and mind. My experiences in caves have changed me in many ways over the past three years. I have learned from deep silence.

Over the weekend, I attended my first concert in a cave. Joseph Kuipers and the Texas Cellos performed in the Throne Room deep within the Cave Without a Name in Boerne, Texas. The sound of twelve cellos, a cello choir, echoed and reverberated throughout the rock walls. Stunning.

Of all the string instruments, the cello produces sound most like the human voice. Haunting. Expressive. Joyful. I closed my eyes many times to let the sound surround me. At one point, while the ensemble played a series of low notes over and over, I felt as if I were diving in the deep sea, listening to the songs of humpback whales.

The study of cave acoustics, or speleo-acoustics, is an emerging field. In a 2008 National Geographic article, legor Reznikoff, a leading scientist, described his passion to tell stories of "how we experience spaces through attentive listening." (This is a wonderful thing for my fellow nature writers to consider.) Two other scientists, Francesco Sauro and Michel Andre, have been recording sound in wild caves throughout the world, capturing the "symphony of the deep earth."

Some researchers believe there is a link between the location of prehistoric cave paintings and the way sound echoes in that area of the cave. Music and celebration, rituals and sacred spaces. After listening to the final song, "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen, it is easy to make that connection.

Writing Prompt:
Try writing about sound in a special place. First, close your eyes. Try and stay silent, motionless, for ten minutes. Then write down what you heard. Try this at different times of the day or during different seasons. Try listening in a wild place or a human-made environment. How does sound enhance our experience of place?