When a tree falls in the forest...

...and no one is around to hear it, and there's a songbird sitting in it, does it make a sound?

Of course it does. Don't be silly. What do listeners have to do with anything?

They have a lot to do with everything, in fact, but back to the original question.
Doesn't matter who listens for sound to occur, but it does matter who listens for sound to mean something.


One of the biggest struggles of my life has been with sensing that I am not being heard and understood.
Enter; the written word. Co-starring: music!
When I sing, people listen. I have noticed this recently.
When I write, people read. I have noticed this recently.
I am a slow, slow person.

Well, thank you, all; you're so patient.
I guess I need to start a newsletter for my family; perhaps they will then pay attention and read, too!
It would be a printed version, hence the need of the fallen tree. Then they could each have their own copy, both for practical reasons and for posterity.
(I could sing it to them, then perhaps they would understand what is required of them in this little family.)
It would be like one of those pioneer woman diaries; but it wouldn't, because life is pretty different now.
I bet it was dreadfully difficult to be heard and understood in the middle of the prairie; your neighbors speaking another language, maybe even hostile; no marriage counselors and books on relationships at the ready. No TV, computer social networks, cell phone; no nothin'. Just you, and some paper, and a few other people if they hadn't died yet. If you were one of the fortunate ones. A couple of pieces of clothing to wash now and then, hopeful a working shotgun to clean regularly, a row to hoe, mmm-hmm, perfect, now I'm feeling guilty ever complaining about anything. Perfect!

But if I feel like complaining anyway, I can sing about it. Apparently the drama involved is pretty effective. Or is it the sound of the voice? Don't know, don't care; I just enjoy it so much, it doesn't matter.

I have found that it does matter to me, very deeply, though, if folks understand what I'm communicating when I sing. So it doesn't make sense to sing in a forest where no one is around to hear; nor in my bedroom with the door closed, which is much more probable.

I left the forest. I like it out here. I like when you enjoy what you hear, and when you let me know it.

Someone felled my tree, and I have flown off to a happier roost. (Thank you, "Tree Feller"!)
You probably didn't hear it fall, but you can hear me singing at a coffee joint, maybe near you.