NO SOUND : Ambient Noise

Today I know that my lawn-addict neighbor is again mowing his lawn. And someone down the street is doing the same. Next I will know that the weed whackers are at work. I can hear the evidence of some snoozing going on over on the couch

This link leads to a blurb about John Cage and his musical contributions (called Indeterminacy) which is maybe more interesting than Cage's music itself, depending on what interests you…

John Cage's music often comes to mind as I take in through my (aging) ears sounds that I find important that might be totally boring to others. In school I had an ongoing tug-o'-war with my roommate who loved to have the radio on all the time all the time all the time. The organized inflow of much music music music (think Teresa Brewer) interfered with my thinking and dreaming. I would switch the little radio off. She would switch it back on. This sort of tug-o'-war has gone on with others in my life also -- the TV news addicts -- the rock music addicts -- the soap opera addicts. Even people who cannot abide pauses in the conversation.

Of course I cannot just go and turn their noise off. But I find myself getting antsy with all the organized noise assailing my ears. (being slightly deaf has certain rare advantages.) I find being outside lends itself more to hearing pleasures, even with the lawn machines and such.

There is something I love about ambient noise. The occurrence of an event is sometimes only witnessed by the sound it makes. There is no sight, shudder, odor or news alert when someone chuckles in the next room. It just comes to the ear and you know something you did not know before.

The memories I enjoy are so often just sound memories. The jingling sound of children on the playground nearby. The special Julia Child tone of a mourning dove. The peepers in summer. (Did you ever actually SEE a peeper? I think I have never seen one, but I LOVE them!)

My grandson woke up during my recent visit and sang his two-year-old's versions of Old MacDonald and the A,B,C song in his crib before calling out for Mama and Daddy to come get him up. It was heavenly music to me, listening in the guest room nearby.

Ryan Howard hit a very long home run last night, and even on TV it had that unique sound-- like a wren's "tit" or something equally short and tight and minimal. Howard knew from the sound that it would sail over the second wall in center field-- he hardly watched it--just chugged his big body around the bases with a great smiling feeling inside himself.

LINKS - soapstone sculpture- a study in negative space







I wrote a poem called "Nosound" a few years back. It's, paradoxically, about the absence of sound-- but that is a kind of sound that happens when sound quits. To me, it is a magical thing. So maybe John Cage is less boring than I thought. Or maybe I am more boring than I thought!

NOSOUND

As precious as
a first sip lying on the tongue
one shuts eyes to isolate
the taste from all else

sitting very still
not to disturb the essence
not even saying what it is
that envelopes all.

So certain epicures
sustain the rare quality
of Nosound
as a treasure maybe
never again
heard
in a lifetime.

It caresses
the heart
like love
and one longs to make it
last
sustained
as we seek to hold the end of passion
for this may be
the last time.

Copyrighted SGH 1997
soapstone sculpture "LINKS" copyrighted SGH 2004

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