Can you hear the silence?
I never thought of silence much. I never gave it a second thought, or even part of a third. I know that silence, to me, usually meant quiet time. Time to relax. Time to settle back and enjoy some free time. Silence, to me, always seemed so peaceful. So uninhibited. So, silent.
I surely never thought about being able to hear silence. Who would? What would it mean if you could hear the silence? Surely, they don’t go hand in hand, I mean, how can you hear nothing? After all, isn’t it rather hard to go around trying to listen to things that don’t even make a sound? How can you hear something that by definition, isn’t there? Why would anyone in their right mind run around trying to find nothing to listen to? It all sounds simply maddening, and rather void of logic, doesn’t it? I mean, really, think of it. Silence is the prelude to, everything. Nothing makes a sound without it.
I have thought about a lot of different things these past twenty three months since I saw, and heard the color green for the last time. I have often wondered about the darkness, and the quieted hush that seemed to follow right behind it. I often have wondered if the things that I could no longer see, have anything to do with the things that I was never able to hear. I also often wonder why I wonder about such things, but who am I to argue?
So many new concepts, and equations, and perceptions have crept inside my muddled, foggy mind. So many ways to think about things. So many different outcomes and conclusions and moments of ponderment. Is ponderment a word? If you don’t hear anybody say it. Is it still there?
So many different things to hear. So many different sounds to go along with the things I can not see. So many unusual hums, and chirps, and dings, and rumbles, and clangs, and rattles, and one wonderful noise after another. In a way, I guess they are all surrounded by silence. Is it the same thing that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about? Did they hear it too? Did they know something that we didn’t?
Silence has to be the beginning, and the ending of everything that makes a noise. Doesn’t it? It is the start, and the finish of noise. All of the noise. As the Grinch said, “The noise, the noise, the noise!” After all, it was silence that he was originally searching for, wasn’t he?
Through all of the endless commotion and the constant racket of the thundering day, silence is there. All you have to do is listen for it.
I suppose if you listen closely, you just might be able to hear the silence. It might be that short burst of nothing, in between this noise right here, and that noise, right over there. It might be a lost memory, hidden in the fabric of a quiet moment from a yesterday gone by. It might be peace and tranquility, trying to find its place inside the rolling rumble of today.
Silence is wrapped around just about everything, but how can you tell? I mean who would know, unless you were some silence expert or something? I suppose that if you don’t pay attention, you just might never get a chance to hear nothing.
Trying to listen to silence is a contradiction in and of itself, isn’t it? I mean, imagine the conversation.
“Did you just hear that?”
“Did I hear what?”
Did I hear nothing?”
“No, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Exactly! See, I knew you heard it!”
Shades of “Who’s on first” or what?
I guess through it all, it will always be there. In all its quieted glory, and hushed praise, it will remain with us to the end.
Listen to that.
Can you hear it too?
It sounds as perfect as nothing I’ve ever heard.