Coming to Our Senses
A radio play and a sensical (literally) approach for day-to-day life
Last weekend I attended a Frankenstein radio play, an art form I had never heard of before, with my mom and boyfriend.
As defined by Theatrefolk, “Radio plays are theatrical performances that are purely auditory; they’re meant to be performed on the radio, hence the name! There is no visual aspect, so performers must rely on their vocal performances as well as sound effects and music to convey the story to the audience.”
Picture this: a stage set with four old-fashioned microphones at the front, a handful of chairs in the back, and a couple tables filled with random objects sitting off to the side. The only thing that hinted at Frankenstein was the science and biology-themed collages pinned to the backdrop of the set walls.
Having no idea what to expect, I found myself instantly smiling as the play started, kicking off with an on-air countdown and radio jingle of a local sponsor. Our ears were then filled with sound as the sound artists (called foley artists) used their assortment of objects to create what sounded like a big storm out at sea.
The night went on with the voice actors stepping up to the mics when it was their characters’ turn to speak, sometimes standing at the back of the stage or behind it when their part warranted a faraway sound. Meanwhile, as the actors carried on their dialogue read from a script, the foley artists were on constant standby following what could’ve only been a sound script.
There were fake gun shots (we were forewarned), the sound of boots forging a path in the snow, rain and wind, doors opening and shutting, birds chirping, chains wrestling, paper handling, and more. Not to mention musical tunes from the sound booth at the back of the theater. I could tell the foley artists had practiced their timing to a tee, as everything matched up with the dialogue so well.
It was such a neat experience and I understood why the play’s director suggested we close our eyes every now and then.
I found that felt counterintuitive to do, as I’m so used to the norm of sitting in a theater or auditorium with my eyes open. Part of me wanted to close my eyes for an extended period of time to really immerse myself in it, but I didn’t do so partially because I was curious to see how they made the sounds and partially because I was too aware of it feeling “weird” to close my eyes. (In retrospect, I should’ve given it a better try as I don’t think I closed my eyes long enough to allow that feeling to go away.)
Nonetheless, even without shutting my eyes, my imagination couldn’t help but kick in. The way they used sound to evoke a sense of setting was really cool—one part stands out in particular when two of the characters were on a picnic and Frankenstein's sister stumbled into the woods; due to the sounds of birds and brush, I could picture it so easily. It was quite something.
The radio play got me thinking about our five senses and how much we rely on our sight to experience everyday things.
Therapists often recommend the 5-senses grounding technique as a coping mechanism for anxiety. For those who haven’t heard of it, the concept is simple: name 5 things you can see around you, 4 you can feel or touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.
The idea is that by actively engaging each of your senses, you can calm yourself since it brings your mind to the present moment and away from whatever is causing anxious feelings.
How often do you actively engage your five senses? For those of us privileged enough to be born with and/or have capacity of all our senses, it seems it’s not often that we actively bring our awareness to them in a given moment.
Sure, we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch all day long but it’s often something we take for granted. We operate with our senses on autopilot, pausing only when we’re struck by an unusual taste, smell, sound, or when it catches us off guard.
In reflecting on when I’ve intentionally engaged one of my senses outside of sight, three examples come to mind:
During the pandemic, walks became a regular, and vitally important, routine for my sanity. Given that the early days of quarantine happened in the springtime, as the Pacific Northwest slowly came out of winter hibernation, I found myself grateful when the sun shone on my walks. I would stop walking for a moment to pause, close my eyes, angle my body and face toward the sun, and just simply feel the sun on my face for a moment or two. It was a small but mighty act of gratitude that helped me get through those days. Now, years later, I find it's a tradition I still do whenever the sun comes out after a stretch of hiding.
Two springs ago I visited the Desert Botanical Garden in Arizona with my brother. Clearly intended to be a visual experience, as most gardens or museums are, I was pleasantly surprised to stumble upon a sensory garden. I could smell it before I could see it—when I followed the floral aroma, I found a small courtyard with a bench or two, and a water fountain. While not a ton to look at, it was apparent that the space was meant to sit and absorb the smells and sounds. As my senses were on (pleasant) overload, it dawned on me how privileged I was to be able to see the rest of the gardens. This right here was something incredibly special they had created that visually impaired people could enjoy too.
On my retreat this past August, our chef Gracie led a session centered around food. To start, she poured us all an herbal tea and instructed us to close our eyes, take a sip and truly taste it, and then feel it as it traveled down our throats. Such a simple thing, but it’s amazing how often we eat and drink without really tasting.
It’s no coincidence that all of these experiences involved closing my eyes to truly appreciate them.
While admittedly I have only tried the 5-senses grounding technique a few times, I still love the principle of it. It’s something that seems useful to try at any given moment, not just relegated to when you’re feeling anxious. It could be used when you’re feeling happy, for instance, and want to appreciate that moment.
I’m going to Hawaii for the first time in a few days and know there will be a lot I want to remember. Perhaps instead of trying to document the view on my camera (which never turns out as good as the real thing, let’s be honest), I will try this instead.
When might you engage your five senses?