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

                                                                                                       patspapers.com

It's an age-old philosophical question that gets at the idea of perception: if something happens but nobody witnesses it, did it really happen?

Today I was pondering my generation's obsession with social media (I speak for myself here, too) and my mind jumped to that question. Last weekend, I visited New York for the first time. I stayed with two friends in Brooklyn and spent the weekend venturing around the hipster-filled neighborhoods and tasting quirky new cuisines. But each time I found myself especially wowed by the presentation of my food or the view at the Williamsburg waterfront, I pulled out my iPhone. I snapped a photo and uploaded it to Instagram for all my followers to see, making sure to tag my location. Later, I guiltily wondered--why wasn't it enough to appreciate a moment without taking digital record of it? Why couldn't I be content with a mental image of that skyline instead of sharing it with everyone else? The answer could lie in the fact that when my social media followers "like" my posts, it lends a sort of credence to the quality of my experiences. It's reassurance that other people deem them as awesome as I do. When we put a snippet of our lives out there for public scrutiny, we're seeking group-generated value added to what otherwise would have been a private moment.

So this brings us back to the falling tree. In today's culture of hyper-sharing, there's an added component besides the tree and a witness: everybody else. If you didn't tweet it to your followers, did it really happen? Suddenly, one person's experience alone isn't enough. Sharing that experience with the rest of the world is what makes it real and gives it meaning. When we go to a concert, visit a cool new city, or whip up a drool-worthy homemade meal, it only gains merit when we post the proof.

It's kind of a sad admission, but it's our reality. Our constant connectedness to social media adds a huge pressure to maintain an online image, to the point where I've sometimes even thought about the photos I'll post later before an event occurs. We're enjoying things less because we're so preoccupied with sharing them in cyberspace, preventing us from being truly present in the moment. Someday maybe we'll return to the days when experiencing something for yourself was enough, but for now, we'll keep making the sound of the falling tree reverberate around the world.