Silence
MUSIC Information:
- Before The Sun Goes Down
- F Major / D minor
- 49 Measures
- Cello and Piano
- 3:32 min
- 4 Pages
Now all my teachers are dead except silence. _ W. S. Merwin
PRELUDE TO BAD NEWS
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who enjoy silence and eagerly embracing it, and those who fear it, avoiding it at all cost as if it were the plague. In nature, silence is often regarded as a prelude to bad news, a moment when the world holds its breath. Complete stillness, presents itself, just right before eminent danger, making the quiet feel less like peace and more like a warning.
Silence can be unsettling in certain situations. For example; when I think about the stillness that dominates the bottom of the ocean - even if waves were crashing 100 foot high above on the surface - nothing would disturb the untamed quietness of the deep. On the opposite end, far above us in outer space, the dark lifelessness that I can only imagine exists there gives me a sense of desolation. The thought alone invades my body making me feel unease.
PASSING OF TIME
I know these are extreme examples, but they serve the point nevertheless. Over time, it has become clear to me, as I ponder on the stillness of remote places, that I am most content when silence surrounds me. For me, stillness is the ultimate adventure - the simple act of doing nothing, keeping quiet, and observing, almost in slow motion, the gentle passing of time.
The inharmonious sounds made by humans, along with all the agitate turbulence we've been conditioned to accept as normal, exists only on the surface of our planet - the ONLY known place in the universe that supports life. And even here, the irony continues: according to scientist, only about 40% of Earth's surface is consider habitable; the rest could be dangerous or even fatal for us.
A BEAUTIFUL SILENCE
The eternal silence - as I often like to call death when I'm feeling particular poetic - is a kind of calm that makes most people rattled just mentioning. Because, perhaps, by reason, we came here without being consulted and we would all leave without our consent. However, it is undeniably a deep, long and almost morbidly beautiful silence.
In this world, Sssshhh! seems to be the sound for summoning silence. The only language universally understood. As the years accumulate, so does my appreciation for silence - which means unwanted noise irritates me far more now than it ever did when I was twenty. I now distribute multiple, Sssshhhs throughout my day, with the expertise of someone who's heard far too much noise for one lifetime. People think I'm cranky; I think they are loud. Only one of us is correct.
USEFUL TOOL
I used silence as a tool to enhance my life, not because it keeps me calm and inspired, although it does, nor because it keeps me spiritually engage to someone somewhere out there _ people call it "praying" or "meditating". Sighing! _ no, the key reason of my silence is because the less I talk, less chances I'd be a fool, and less opportunities I would have to hurt someone while engaging, perhaps, in meaningless conversation.
I embrace solitude and quietness. It's a wonderful time when I don't have to open my mouth to explain useless opinions, or the why's and the how's of my character, or the useless aspect of my complains. I value silence, and at times, oh! I so wish to dive in it, and never emerge from it.
There's another aspect about embracing isolation: It keeps me lock out from the world and its poison. Bjork wrote a poem that expresses - what I believe - the deepest feelings of frustration when verbal communication is the exact opposite of what we ended up doing. It's a song that melts in the air, it dives into the subconscious, advising us to desert logic and reason and purge the corruption of the heart by trying to forget, all that we've learned.
Today is the last day that I'm using words
They've gone out, lost their meaning
Don't function anymore
Words are useless, especially sentences
They don't stand for anything
How could they explain how I feel?
THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENCE
In The United States, people have the right to remain silence, it is a well known legal principal that protects its citizens, yet, a great number of them aren't equip, or are simply unwilling to execute that right. It's one of the most powerful rights a person has. Silence in most situations - legal or personal - it isn't just safer than speech; it's wiser.
But in the heat of the moment, people think it's more meaningful to have the last word. We feel compelled to explain ourselves, defend our image, and establish dominance by winning the argument. By making a lot of noise, it shows how smart and powerful we think we are. If we only knew that silence is a better strategic.
A FINE LINE
Silence, a piece of music I've written, was born from a reflection on the fine line between silence and noise - a line that in the so-called modern world, keeps getting thinner. The piece is an invitation to step back and embrace solitude, silence and quietness every now and then. Pause for a moment and take a clear look at how overwhelming the world can be, as it insist on being heard: busy, restless, annoyingly loud, and incapable of minding its own business.
I feel more alive, for every moment I spend experiencing dead silence, than in any other time. And If you are wondering where silence can be found, know that it's not always in a remote place, tuck away in the wilderness or far from people. It's often right next to us, hidden under the constant noise we have learned to ignore. Silence is the only presence that doesn't try to prove anything. In 1823 T. Hood - the English poet - shared with the world, in his own poetic style, where Silence lives.
Silence
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave—under the deep deep sea,
Or in wide desert where no life is found,
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;
No voice is hush'd—no life treads silently,
But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free.
That never spoke, over the idle ground:
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls
Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Though the dun fox, or wild hyæna, calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan,—
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.