Signal and Noise

On tuning in to what's important in 2023

It’s me, hi. I’ve missed you. So I thought I’d say hello and share what I’m thinking about in these early days of 2023 . . .

When acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton’s to-do list exceeds 13 pages, he does something radical: he drives a few hours, then hikes several miles into the Hoh Rain Forest of Olympic National Park, which has been designated “the quietest place in the United States.” There, he takes time to be present, to listen. When he gets back to “being in [his] being,” he pulls out that to-do list and crosses out many social and professional commitments. One time he removed four to five months’ worth of obligations. At home, everything on that list had seemed essential, but in a new place, with a new perspective, he is able to tune out the literal and figurative noise and figure out what mattered most.

That’s a story from Justin Zorn and Leigh Marz’s Golden: The Power of Silence in a World of Noise, which was the perfect book for me to read on my own recent mini-retreat just an hour from home. In Golden, Zorn and Marz distinguish between noise (hubbub, distractions) and signal (what is vital, personally and socially). “We started writing this book because we were feeling despondent about the state of the world,” they write. “The intuition we felt was the most intractable problems of the current era have their root, at least in part, in the problem of noise. To identify and enact more effective and durable solutions, we need the humility to listen, we need a capacity to continually renew our energy, and we need the clarity to be able to discern, on a personal and collective basis, the signal of what is true and what we truly want.”

A recent report from World Meteorological Organization (WMO) indicated that the past eight years have been the hottest on record, and we’re at 1.15°C warmer than pre-industrial levels. That’s just one of many recently blazing signals that are too often drowned out in noise, whether it’s the radio covering a local stabbing, or Prince Harry’s new memoir, or trying desperately to figure out what style of jeans can get an elder millennial through the next five years without seeming tragically unhip and attracting Gen Z derision. (Noise, but also S.O.S.!!!)

There’s a Rebecca Solnit line somewhere that says every news headline should be prefaced with something like “but climate change is more important.” An attempt to cut through the noise. That said, even in the activist space there can be competition for your attention: war, mass incarceration, starvation, death from preventable diseases, wage theft, food apartheid, hate crimes, biodiversity loss, whatever shit Doug Ford is pulling this week. There are no shortage of crises, and together all those signals start to get, well, noisy.

So we tune out, choose the white noise of scrolling or Netflix or endless podcast chatter, until all those individual cries turn to static.

But, you say, I can’t care all the time, burnout is a thing, have you tried parenting, etc., and I get it. Do not make the theme of your vision board martyrdom. (The BLOOD!) Luckily this, like so many other things, is not a binary choice. Not being able to fight for everything isn’t an excuse to not fight for anything.

So what’s your anything? Marz and Zorn are right: it’s never been more important to tune into what’s important. I can’t tell you what that is, though I’ve sure done my best to metaphorically skywrite CLIMATE JUSTICE over all of your houses.

As we start a new year, I urge you to find whatever ways you can to dial down your own noise. For me, that’s meant setting hard limits on my opiate of choice, Instagram; physically distancing myself from my phone; getting more disciplined about my meditation practice; and allowing the broadcast between my ears to be, at least sometimes, only my own thoughts. I also did the equivalent of an attentional cleanse with my little retreat, spending three days offline, just reading, walking in nature (and occasionally whispering weird little voice memos into my phone), journaling, having dinner with my hosts each night, and completing my Year Compass for 2022–2023. (Thanks to Sarah for the Year Compass recommendation.) I cannot tell you how radically reset I felt. Light, clear, expansive, integrated. I was having shower thoughts sans shower!

And even though in Toronto it’s been an exceptionally gloomy January, give yourself the gift of some alone time in nature. Nature is the new designer drug, and it is a trip!! Allow yourself hours, ideally. Dress appropriately and don’t bring your headphones. Keep your phone in your pocket as much as possible or, if your commitments allow, leave it at home. Walk. Sit. Marvel over some moss, if you’re inclined. Listen for signals. Repeat as often as you can manage. This might seem indulgent, but remember Gordon Hempton: some focused work might save you a lot of time.

But seriously, have you even mossed, bro?

After three days of retreat I didn’t end up with my whole year laid out for me, or some brilliant new idea that will solve any of the issues I’ve mentioned, or even put a meaningful dent in them. (Alas! I LOVE a project.) But I did figure out a few ways I can use my time and skills this year, including running my climate emotions retreat again in late May or early June. (I will give minimum three months’ notice on the date to you busy people.) That gathering proved to be a pretty great tool for tuning into some important signals, meeting wonderful humans, and connecting with the very same land and people that gave me this recent, blessed reset. Even if you don’t have big climate feelings, the gathering can be a wonderful place to figure out what you think and feel about the crises of our time and to give yourself the gift of space, and even, I promise, some quiet.

This year I’ll also keep pushing my subversive hippie propaganda in a national magazine, chair a new sustainability committee for our national publishers’ association, continue working to bring a publishing carbon calculator into existence, spread my saved seeds far and wide, help tend the local guerrilla pollinator gardens, put more food in the community fridge, do more Bike Brigade runs, and who knows what else. I want to get positively mycorrhizal and find ways to connect with and learn from others while supporting good work happening all around me. And I hope I can keep protecting my attention so I don’t miss the most important signals.

This weekend I did my first winter sowing of the year — plastic bottles turned into mini-greenhouses, where seeds can have a protected space to get their start. Let’s give ourselves the same benefit of those seeds: who knows what will take root?

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Parting wisdom

“Rather than wading around in that little impotent, indulgent cesspool of hand-wringing regret, how about instead we figure out how to get rid of disprivilege, which we could do.

“Part of which includes acknowledging that, baseline, we should all be able to get into a garden or forest or an orchard if we want. It includes acknowledging that we should all have clean drinking water and good schools and excellent health care and safe housing. What would happen if we acknowledged that none of this is privilege, but rather it is as it should and could be? And what if we figured out, together, in a million different ways, how to make it so? Or to say it another way: rather than cursing the darkness, what if we planted some seeds?”

— Ross Gay, Inciting Joy (a book I joyfully recommend)

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If this letter resonated, I’d love to hear from you! You can click reply or leave a comment. Other things I’m dying to talk about:

• What are you tuning into (or out of) to help the world this year?

• What helps you dial down the noise in your life?

• Are you interested in retreating this spring? If so, would you prefer an al fresco yoga class or additional forest time instead? LMK.

• For the love of god and all that is holy, what are the new skinny jeans?

Also, if you’re trying to figure out what action might be right for you, last year’s January post has some wayfinding exercises. Try them out, ideally after a nice walk amongst some trees.

There won’t be regular newsletters in 2023, but if I have something worthwhile to share, you may receive a little missive from me.

Wishing you an expansive, meaningful 2023.

xo

JK

Five Minutes for Planet is written by me, Jen Knoch, and edited by Crissy Calhoun. Today’s photos are taken by me as I wandered around my retreat.