Sound and Vision
And Why Whooping It Up in the Woods Might Be a Healthy Thing
Welcome to the Thursday edition of Ensōnomics - now 2x a week.
I’m tired of my inside voice. I’m way too quiet. I remember the last time I yelled. Almost five years ago. I had left Florida and moved to Chicago because I wouldn’t need a car and we were all going to die. While I was there, I had a chance to visit a friend’s place in the Northwoods of Wisconsin.
It was peaceful. It was calm. I felt like Henry David Thoreau. I could walk and run the trails and soak in the silence while digging the mask free surroundings.
My friend suggested I try making some noise while I was out running the trails.
An interesting idea, I thought, although it didn’t seem like a particularly publicly sanctioned activity. I’d consciously screamed before, maybe a decade ago in my therapist’s office - into a pillow, so no one could hear from the office next door. It worked for me.
And since I was on private property I took his suggestion. I even ran the trails in my bare feet.
I don’t know if I screamed or yelled but I whooped, I hollered - hell, man, I did everything but yodel. It felt amazing. And it changed my energy for the better.
It was an absolute sonic ensō. A one take only, aural painting of a moment, vulnerable and pure.
But I’ve been quiet ever since.
In an era where digital noise drowns authentic expression, a countermovement has emerged, not through whispers, but through screams. Beyond sports arenas and horror films, intentional vocal release is gaining recognition as a legitimate therapeutic practice. Research suggests that what many dismiss as primitive outbursts actually triggers sophisticated neurochemical processes that modern science is only beginning to understand.
The physiological benefits of raising your voice to apex levels extends far beyond folklore. Studies indicate that a well executed scream can reduce cortisol levels while triggering the release of endorphins, the body's natural mood elevators. Perhaps more surprisingly, research has documented that screaming can enhance muscular power by approximately 7% during physical exertion, suggesting evolutionary connections between vocal expression and survival mechanisms.
"The human scream operates on multiple physiological levels," explains Dr. Arthur Janov, pioneer of Primal Scream Therapy in the 1970s. His approach follows a structured progression: regression to traumatic memories, release through vocalization, integration through self-acceptance, and resolution through actionable steps forward.
Unlike cognitive behavioral approaches that prioritize rational reframing, scream therapy engages the body's stress response system directly. When the vocal cords vibrate with intensity, muscle tension throughout the body responds, often releasing physical manifestations of emotional burden that cognitive approaches alone may miss.
While therapeutic screaming has clinical applications, its cultural manifestations reveal how communities have independently discovered its benefits. Two particularly illuminating examples have emerged in Northern Europe, each demonstrating the power of collective vocalization in distinct contexts.
At precisely 10 PM each night in Flogsta, a student neighborhood in Uppsala, Sweden, windows open across residential towers. What follows is a synchronized chorus of screams, a tradition dating back to the 1970s. Originally attributed to a student who took his life due to academic pressure, the ritual has evolved into a communal expression of solidarity among students facing demanding academic environments.
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The Flogsta scream operates on multiple therapeutic levels. First, it provides immediate physiological release. Cortisol diminishes as students externalize internal tension through vocalization. Second, it transforms individual stress into collective experience. The knowledge that others are simultaneously expressing similar emotions creates a sense of shared humanity that counteracts the isolation often accompanying academic distress.
"The ritual creates temporal and spatial boundaries for emotional expression that might otherwise be considered inappropriate," notes comparative anthropologist Dr. Margareta Svenson of Uppsala University. "Students report feeling 'lighter' and more capable of returning to their studies after participating, regardless of whether they were experiencing acute stress beforehand."
The ritual's persistence across generations of students speaks to its effectiveness. Unlike formalized therapy, it requires no appointment or explanation, only the willingness to open a window and contribute to the collective acoustic landscape. This accessibility may explain its enduring appeal in a population often resistant to formal mental health interventions.
When COVID-19 lockdowns intensified global anxiety in 2020, Iceland's tourism board launched an innovative response: the "Let It Out" campaign. The premise was deceptively simple. Record your scream via website, and it would be played through speakers placed in Iceland's remote landscapes.
https://lookslikeyouneediceland.com/
"We wanted to offer a release mechanism for worldwide frustration that utilized Iceland's natural spaces," explained Sigríður Dögg Guðmundsdóttir, head of Visit Iceland. "The vastness of our landscapes provides the perfect acoustic canvas for emotional expression."
The campaign transcended mere marketing gimmick by tapping into profound psychological needs during global isolation. By literally projecting human distress into expansive landscapes, the initiative offered symbolic release while maintaining physical distancing requirements. Participants reported powerful catharsis despite the digital mediation of their screams.
More than 40,000 screams were recorded and projected across Icelandic vistas. The campaign's ingenuity lay in translating digital participation into physical manifestation, creating a psychological bridge between isolated individuals and natural spaces when physical travel was impossible.
"The campaign succeeded because it externalized collective trauma," observes cultural psychologist Dr. Helena Magnúsdóttir. "By giving pandemic anxiety a physical destination - remote Icelandic landscapes - it provided containment for emotions that felt uncontainable during lockdown."
Not all vocal expressions carry equal therapeutic value. Research distinguishes between purposeful therapeutic screaming and other forms of vocalization. While sports fans may experience momentary catharsis when yelling at televisions, the hormonal response differs significantly, primarily triggering adrenaline rather than the endorphin/oxytocin combination associated with therapeutic screaming.
Similarly, while structured vocal expressions like yodeling share technical elements with screaming, their emotional function differs substantially. Yodeling prioritizes technique and communication rather than emotional release, though its breath control aspects may offer secondary stress reduction benefits.
The contemporary resurgence of intentional screaming extends beyond cultural rituals into clinical settings. Mental health professionals increasingly incorporate vocal release techniques as adjunctive therapy for trauma processing, anxiety management, and stress reduction.
"What distinguishes modern approaches from earlier primal therapy is integration with evidence-based practices," explains clinical psychologist Dr. Sarah Brennan. "Rather than positioning screaming as a complete therapeutic system, we view it as one technique within a comprehensive emotional regulation toolkit."
For those without access to formal therapy, unguided scream meditation offers an accessible alternative. The approach involves finding a private space, potentially using a pillow to muffle sound, adopting a grounded physical stance, and expressing emotions vocally without self-censorship.
As mental health awareness expands, the legitimacy of embodied practices like therapeutic screaming continues to grow. The isolation exacerbated by digital communication has highlighted the need for direct emotional expression - a need that polished social media presentations often fail to address.
What Flogsta students and Icelandic tourism innovators have recognized is that the human voice carries more than words - it carries our unprocessed emotional experiences. In reclaiming the primal power of the scream, we may be rediscovering an essential aspect of emotional health that modern society has attempted to silence.
The most compelling evidence for screaming's therapeutic value may be its persistent emergence across disparate cultures and contexts. When Swedish students and global pandemic survivors independently discover the same mechanism for emotional release, perhaps we should listen, not just to their words, but to the volume and tenor of their message.
Life Lessons from San Miguel
I’m uncomfortable using photos of people without their knowledge, so I’m asking you to trust me on this. Of the many day in the life coaches I’m privileged to learn from here, I frequently see the blind successfully leading the blind - walking together hand on shoulder or hand in hand as they navigate their way along the cobblestone streets.
So what’s my takeaway? Well, maybe it’s okay to not be able to see everything.
The blind can lead the blind.
You just gotta have a vision.
Goal Ball
It’s the Bell of the Ball (Paralympics Version)
Goalball is a high-intensity, precision-based team sport created specifically for athletes who are blind or visually impaired. Played on an 18 by 9 meter indoor court, the game pits two teams of three against each other as they take turns hurling a bell filled ball, roughly the size of a basketball, toward a goal that spans the entire width of the court. The challenge? Every athlete wears opaque eye shades, leveling the playing field entirely.
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Success in Goalball depends not on sight but on spatial awareness, rapid decision making, and sound based strategy. Players orient themselves using tactile markings on the court and defend by diving full body across the floor to block shots that can reach speeds of over 60 km/h. The silence in the arena is almost sacred, broken only by the jingle of the ball and the swift rustle of defensive slides.
Since its Paralympic debut in 1976, Goalball has evolved into a global symbol of adaptive sport excellence. It pushes athletes beyond physical limits and redefines what elite performance looks like. In a world dominated by visual spectacle, Goalball invites us to appreciate the power of listening, teamwork, and resilience.
Beck Reimagines David Bowie’s Sound and Vision
Grab a pair of headphones if you can.
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The Endsō
