#7216

My take on the philosophical question:

"If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?"

We’ve heard it, whether it was in real life or movies: a falling tree.

Me, personally, when I think of a falling tree I always remember that one scene in avatar (I'm a big nerd for that one, don't judge) , where the humans rip down the wildlife of the jungle with their big yellow machines and guns. The roots squeak and as the wood slowly breaks, it makes this uncomfortable sound as if there would be a scream coming from nature, almost like a cry for help. The massive stem is breaking and within, each little wooden piece flies through the air, crashing through leaves as it finally lands on the floor, bouncing maybe the tiniest bit and then, settling to the ground with a powerful slam.

Trees do that all the time. Well, more so because we force them too. Every second there are trees falling and crashing to the ground as I am typing this.

But that is only what I know.

I can’t hear it. So the question arises: 

If a tree falls, and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Physically speaking, yes. 

The object falling is still interacting with the air, in fact it is making the air vibrate, which causes a sound. 

And yet, I want to ask: If there is no one receiving said sound (physics aside) is there actually a sound?

Isn’t it kind of built in our logical and technical human nature that we need proof? Anything to work with our thesis. If I cannot touch something, can I at least hear it? I cannot see the smell coming from our neighbors garbage, yet I can recognize it with my nose and therefore reassuring its existence.

Humans need proof, we need something to work with.

I say, humans are not only rather stupid, we are arrogant. Arrogant to think that the universe only exists, works, smells, or cracks if we noticed it.

How impudent of us to think that the entire existence of everything requires our recognition.

A falling tree, a tragedy on its own, connected to nature and its ways, to pain, to brutality and faith, does not need to be heard to be true.

A tragedy does not need to be proven by the victim to be true.

I think the falling tree is us. Some of us, at least. The ones right now screaming internally or punching a wall, letting tears roll down their cheeks, laying in bed staring into the dark and feeling like there is indeed a tree where your heart should be, and it’s cracking.

I can’t hear them, I don’t know where or who they are. 

All I know that I will never be as arrogant as to say that those people need to prove their pain to me for it to exist.