* RESONANCE *

When we tune in, deeply, we can hear the vibration of the trees.  It’s not a hearing with the ears, it’s a hearing within, listening with the heart.

I've conducted the experiment with hundreds of people now, and often people doubt they'll be able to do it, including me, but with a little focus, we can.  We hear the vibrational resonance of the tree within ourselves and sing it aloud - which is kind of a wondrous thing to do - and when there's a group of people, it sounds… well, like resonance. 

A tree’s resonance field holds within it a spectrum of vibrations, often different for each tree. Generally, a group of people will produce a variety of results including low tones, high tones, patterns, percussive sounds, feelings, body vibrations and colours. The combined singing of these sounds gives us an impression of the resonance of the tree.  For example, palms have a higher tonal resonance compared to paperbarks who have a lower tonal resonance.

Deep listening can be a very gentle way of learning about the physical and emotional health of trees. Participants are able to describe awareness of water flow, root flow, density and depth, leaf activity, photons and photosynthesis, as well as the moods and feelings of the trees such as stress, sadness, anger, happiness, the uses of the tree and its relationships with the surrounding ecosystem. 

Earlier this year I was invited to share tree resonance workshops at the National Indigenous Fire Workshop on Yorta Yorta country. In one session, roughly forty people tuned into a large area of crowded thin trees.  All of their sung signals were low tones and barely audible. In the midst of this was a single tree of a different species, with the four men around it singing strongly and rhythmically. We could then deduce that the loud tree species was stronger and healthier in this ecosystem, and that it was likely that that the trees with the low weak signal were not very healthy. That made us wonder why, and we began to notice surrounding environmental factors such as overcrowding, lack of water, and distressed parent trees.

There is a lot of sadness and melancholy among the trees, and some angry ones too.  We learned to ask permission, to say thank you, and to respect their wishes for privacy.  Some clearly stated that they wanted nothing to do with the public project but were ok with quieter communion. Others were generous and wise guides, showing delight and humour in our engagement, and indicating support for the project.

* BIODATA *

The second part of The Sonic Earth process is to let the trees speak for themselves. We gently apply sensors to a tree and connect special synthesisers which translate the plant's biofeedback signal into musical tones.  The plants are able to manipulate the signals themselves.

This is powerful because it literally gives the tree a voice, and some trees really go to town with it. Some plants are more vocal than others. They catch our thoughts and respond with new data and changed sounds. They’ll play for some people and not for others. Some trees are like mad jazz pianists. Others are orchestral and dramatic. Some are meditative and simple.

We sit back and listen, observing and marvelling. Musicians play along to study the patterns, synchronise and learn from the tree. Dancers explore the sounds with movement, artists and writers report experiencing finer frequencies of creativity by listening to the music.

We used three types of synthesisers on The Sonic Earth. I use the more recently developed Plantwave/MIDIsprout which plays through an app on my phone.  Michele Goeldi uses one developed by the original plant music pioneers in the 1970s from Damanhur, Italy. Bouanjou (The Bonz) bonsai fig tree is a member of our band and uses MIDIsprout sensors through a Korg Volca Keys synthesiser. He rehearsed and performed with us, demonstrating an interesting sense of harmony, responding to the other musicians, and sensitively leading sections in and out on his own.

* COLLABORATION *

This brings us to the third stage, where we bring our musicianship to the table and collaborate - listening carefully to bring the trees' music to light. Our intention was to play the music of the trees, to be in service to them, rather than put our own agenda forward.

The trees themselves are the major collaborators on The Sonic Earth and they direct the flow. In the garden, the trees hold the signposts. They beckon and birds call to enlighten the listeners.  “Chipchipchip.  Weyeyeyey.  Come,” they say, “We are here. Look here. Stand there. Sit here, we have something to say. Listen.”

Bhriannyn is a large swaying tree with garlands in her hair. Her neighbour’s arms were being lopped off on the day I came through with my harp. She called me over, shining in the sun, dropping a shower of leaves to invite me in. As I sat at her base against her trunk, she bade me play.

I listened into her resonance field and found the tones on my harp which felt right there. I heard the music in my mind and let my hands follow as accurately as I could. A mantra melody came forth over a rootsy rhythm, and the music wove and expanded into the gift of a perfectly formed piece of music. It felt like a revolution song, a solidarity anthem.

Each of the wonderful artists in The Sonic Earth produced distinctly different music. Şūnyāta was able to recreate the sonorous depths of the great Mimosa Saman Raintree through his guitar and electronics. While Naomi Jean was taught by the Bamboo to play the flute in the manner of the water flowing through it, my harp aligned with a hypnotic motif in time with the nodding leaves.

There were similarities in composition - small fractal repeating motifs that expanded into tree-like forms, easy to play, with a certain divine quality. Poignant melodies for which you wished to get the notes exactly right. There were crazy turns of tone and phrase that the plants themselves use, which we’re becoming familiar with.

Tegan Koster created the Melaleuca Light Organ. A dramatically lit glade of Paperbarks was wired with sensors connected to her synth organ keyboard. As she played, she tuned into the tree resonance to instruct and guide her improvisation. For me it was like listening to the avant garde music of Alice and John Coltrane: That connection to cosmos, in respectful adherence to the impulses of giant beings who understand the overview.

Lore in many cultures tells us of the wisdom of the Trees, of sacred relationships and conversations with trees. Those days seem like a lost myth, but it wasn't so long ago. 

Over only four months, we found that we can hear the trees talking - if we simply ask and take the time to listen quietly for an answer within.

I feel like the Trees are speaking up, they want to be heard, and they want us to sing their songs and share their messages. They need us to listen. The Trees are the real caretakers of the Earth, and if we’re going to save this planet and ourselves, we need to accept the abundantly rich reality of meaningful relationships and conscious cohabitation with these wondrous wise beings.

We respectfully acknowledge Walabara Yindinji and surrounding clan groups as the traditional owners of the land where this story was sung.  The Sonic Earth was generously supported by the Resonance Art Ensemble, Get A Move On, Bonemap, Victor Steffensen, Plant Based Native, Jing Jin, Tanks Arts Centre & Cairns Botanic Gardens, James Cook University and Central Queensland University. The Regional Arts Development Fund (RADF) is a partnership between the Queensland Government and Cairns Regional Council to support local arts and culture in regional Queensland.