Make A Good Noise

One goal I have each day is to find and focus on something good.

Often, that means searching for something beautiful to photograph — in my garden or while hiking through the woods. Sometimes it comes through reading. Sometimes it comes through music, though finding new artists I can really relate to is surprisingly difficult.

I am not naturally cheerful all the time. I can slip into blue moods now and then, especially when I feel overwhelmed by noise, stimulation, or disruption. But somehow, I always find my way back.

Over the years, I’ve realized how deeply I’m affected by what I allow into my mind and life. Beauty, quiet, kindness, good conversation, and meaningful work — these steady me. Constant noise does the opposite.

Under enough strain, I can become what the British so wonderfully call prickly — irritable, difficult, not always easy to live with. I first heard the term used by Doreen Baker when describing her husband, J. A. Baker, author of The Peregrine. After his death, others referred to him as “a prickly customer” at times.

For some reason, that description stayed with me.

Maybe because I understand how easy it is to retreat from the noise of the world — to pull inward, become discouraged, cynical, or silent.

That may be why the song Good Noise by John Gorka has resonated with me for so many years.

In the opening lines, he asks:

“Tell me the truth
What are you living for?
Tell me why, why are you here?
’Cause if you cannot make yourself a good noise
Tell me what are you doing here?”

Listen to John Gorka's "Good Noise" here:

I don’t hear those words as criticism. I hear them as encouragement.

A challenge to put yourself out there, to go against the tide when necessary, to create, encourage, speak honestly, make beauty, help others, and stand for something worthwhile.

To add something good to the world instead of more empty noise.

What I love about the song is its spirit. Despite the weight of the question, it’s upbeat, encouraging, and full of life. It doesn’t ask us to withdraw from the world but to step right into it.

My selfish self could keep it all to myself, but I feel compelled to encourage, educate, and motivate others, perhaps helping them see the beauty and importance of the natural world more deeply.

But something in me resists that.

Maybe it's because I know how deeply encouragement can matter. How one photograph, one song, one thoughtful conversation, or one beautiful passage in a book can help pull someone back toward hope, wonder, or meaning.

That’s why I write and share my photography and love of nature with others. My selfish self could keep it all to myself, but I feel compelled to encourage, educate, and motivate, and perhaps help others see the beauty and importance of the natural world more deeply.

The world already has enough noise.

What it needs is more good noise.

At some point, I think we all have to ask ourselves:

What are we doing here?

And what kind of noise are we making?

I don’t always get this right.

But I’ve come to believe that even the smallest act of kindness or encouragement can change the course of someone’s day — and sometimes much more than that.