“It’s this gift we are born with, to reach out and hear all these
incredible subtle sounds,” he’d said, “and it’s in danger of being lost
in a generational amnesia. Some ears will never get a chance to
develop sensitivity to those sounds.”
Although Seoul’s creek plan initially drew opposition because of
its cost—about $380 million—and the need to reroute an elevated
highway, it is now exceedingly popular, visited by thousands every
day. The mayor went on to become South Korea’s president.
ON THE LAST morning of my short vacation in Maine, I woke up very
early and snuck out of my stepmother’s house while the kids were
still sleeping. I donned the EEG cap and slid into a kayak and onto a
small lake. One on side sat a rural subdivision, boats and docks; on
the other bloomed a generous expanse of the White Mountain
National Forest. I paddled through a foot of soft mist resting on the
water’s surface. I couldn’t see my blade as it touched the water, but I
could hear the drips, and the birds on the approaching far bank.
Occasional jets flew overhead, but they seemed very far away. A car
started up down at the far end of the lake. Not too bad. It was quite
peaceful. I filled my lungs with the mist and the sun and the birdsong,
and I regally paddled onward in my proud EEG crown.
The morning’s software algorithm report read like a Trekkie
horoscope: “In most people, the alpha rhythm is attenuated when the
brain is busy processing and responding to visual stimuli. However,
your brain produced substantial alpha even with your eyes open,
suggesting that your brain dynamics are governed by long-range
cortical connections and that you enter a relaxed state very easily.”
Hah! I got alpha! I’d finally tricked the machine into thinking I
was some sort of yogi. For a few moments on a quiet lake, I was.