Let's have the subject/object discussion up front: if we can't hear something does that mean the thing is silent? The faraway tree falling, star exploding, cat miaowing outside a double-glazed window, fool on the hill laughing his head off? No, it just means those soundwaves don't reach our ears (for reasons of logistics or physics). But lots of other sounds do, all the time. Even people who are profoundly deaf can apparently still hear something, low vibrations. And there is no such thing as a perfect vacuum.
If everything that exists were to stop existing, then theoretically there would be nothing and then nothing might be silent. How's that for a tease of a paradox? As curious to contemplate as the Zen concept of the sound of one hand clapping. Ah yes, contemplation...
the sound of one hand clapping
You may be thinking this is all semantics, and that it's fair to call things silent if we cannot detect the sounds they make: flowers growing, snowflakes falling, statues as they warm and cool, mute swans and witnesses. But silence per se? No, for we can always hear something. Even those relatively peaceful moments of stillness we call 'quiet' are actually populated by subtle sounds which can be hard to detect or are more typically easily ignored - a slight breeze, a mechanical whirr, a structural creak, the rustle of clothing, blood circulating, the music of the spheres đŸ˜‰Having read thus far you may possibly opine that I'm being unduly antagonistic in arguing my point, noisy in fact. You might be inferring that lockdown has been going on a little too long. You could even be saying (silently) to yourselves "Come on Saturday blogger, give it a rest"...
the rest is...
This latest poem was the inspiration of a quiet moment. Concentrate. Take as long as you like:
Can You Hear It?
silencesilencesilencesilencesilencestill silence that's all ffoollk.Thanks for listening, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
