The Looking Glass
by Jennifer Johnston
Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, Bangkok, Thailand
Photograph by Yahn Smith, June 1999
Hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains,
Within the sounds of silence.
Paul Simon wrote those words in 1964 in the wake of the John F. Kennedy assassination, and recorded the song with his singing partner Art Garfunkel in September 1965. It hit number one on the charts in 1966. It's another of my favorite songs (as are others in the Simon & Garfunkel oeuvre) and always puts me in mind of the classic Zen koan: "Two hands clap and there is a sound; what is the sound of one hand?" (Attributed to Hakuin Ekaku, 1686-1769, and frequently rendered erroneously as "What is the sound of one hand clapping?") The obvious answer would seem to be that there is no sound. But Zen Buddhism uses koans, defined as paradoxical anecdotes or riddles, to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical, linear reasoning.
Thus, while it may be true that one hand moving by itself may encounter only air, making no sound, the equation changes if that one hand is clapped against a knee or a thigh ... or as fictional private investigator Jim Rockford (The Rockford Files, 1974-1980) put it (metaphorically knocking the principles of Zen Buddhism for a loop): "The sound of one hand clapping is the sound of a slap in the face." (grin) But I digress....
Every time I hear (!) The Sounds of Silence, I find myself reflecting on the myriad "sounds" ... seeds and visions and memories planted in my brain which remain to intangibly resonate and manifest unbidden at diverse cues. I frequently find many evanescent, meaningful "sounds" playing silently in my often unquiet mind, such as:
★ the figurative sound of one hand slapping (grin) you on the back in the thumbs-up gesture when people sense and silently "share" your joy on some momentous occasion;
★ the awful rending cry of a heart broken by separation or death;
★ the silken sussurous of a heart mended by a saving, healing, transcendental touch;
★ the silent screams conveyed by soundless tears;
★ an evanescent whisper of perfume;
★ a wistful, ethereal mandolin spurring spectral dancers to stir a candle flame;
Lunation animation by Tomruen, Released
to public domain through Wikipedia Commons
★ the preternatural resonance of a sultry, seductive sempre saxophone magically accompanying the first glimpse of a pregnant, translucent moon;
★ the gentle glissando of a discreet harp greeting a golden sunrise;
★ the effervescent but inaudible shhhh of champagne bubbles in a crystal glass;
★ the sometimes indiscernible soughing of leaves in hypnotic, metronomic tall trees blowing in a breeze, conjuring in the mind the lines ("Tick Tick Tick") from Edgar Lee Masters' epitaph of Petit the Poet in Spoon River Anthology;
★ the aurally imperceptible but insistantly existent sibilant slither of a snake sinuously traversing grass;
★ the bold tantalizing question, or tacit note of approval, in an uplifted eyebrow;
★ the menacing tocsin of jack boots emanating from a "White Power" sign or the sight of a swatsika (a long-time religious symbol, but corrupted forever by the Nazis);
★ the explosion of joy in the crescendo of hearts beating together;
★ the "little cat feet" of fog, heard so clearly and uncannily by the American poet Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967);
★ the still, numinous murmur of rushing water;
★ the incandescent supranatural "pop" of magic in the fastness of the heart conjured by sustaining memories of love;
★ the Lovers' Concerto and fugue of eyes and lips ... fortissimo in meeting, tremolo in joining, pianissimo in parting;
★ the plaintive vibtrato violin of a yearning, sanguine heart calling to its absent partner;
★ the pastoral piccolo notes of honeysuckle and roses and jasmine on a summer night;
★ the muted fantasia of a flute giving rhythm to butterflies (butterfly lovers perhaps?) dancing on currents of air;
★ the nascent illusory fanfare of the herald trumpets of Spring;
★ the haunting accelerando trill of a piano played in treble clef in the white hot heat of Summer;
★ the singing scherzo of a cello, so like a human voice, underlying golden, dappled Autumn sunlight;
★ the contemplative reflection of a low, exotic etude by a mystical oboe floating over Winter whiteness and softly falling snow;
Lightning animation by DocWoelle
Released to public domain through Wikipedia
★ the sweet acknowledging applause in smiles from strangers when lovers long-parted come rapturously together in an airport or some other public place;
★ the soft harmonious dulcet chimes in the glances between loving twindred souls, often more meaningful than any exchange of words.
Hamlet (via Shakespeare) said in reflection as he lay dying: "All the rest is silence." But I think a hopeless, abject "silence" is the purview of and the onerous price paid by lazy, unimaginative or fearful minds. Like the "silent" (without amplification) beating of your own heart, there are sounds in all the things around us ... if only we have the courage, the desire, the will if you will, to apprehend them.
I must note (with so much appreciation) the silent but lyrical blessings in e-mails from old friends, beloved friends, and new friends like Ana Saulic, from Belgrade, Serbia. Ana and I met through Facebook in Dog World, which is dedicated to saving and ameliorating the conditions of shelter dogs. Dog World is partnered with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and interaction with others in Dog World generates benefits for unfortunate animals who have no home, have been abandoned, and mistreated, who don't have enough to eat or a warm place to sleep.
Ana asked me to become her Friend on Facebook (in addition to our "conversations" in Dog World), so we've been able to exchange numerous messages; it has been so nice getting to know her. Ana is lovely, 21 years old, in university majoring in management ... and although I've never heard Ana's voice, I believe I know something of her soul from our silent e-exchanges. I feel certain her voice is lilting and happy and as beautiful as she is. She has also read a bit of our blog, and had wonderful things to say about it. Ana would like to visit the U.S., and I hope to be able to meet her face to face one day and prove my theory about the timbre of her currently silent "voice."
My friend Ana
In addition to Ana, and literally thousands of others with whom I've interacted in Dog World, I am so pleased that Yahn, Driscilla, Sharon Wadley and Sue Yager are also part of Dog World and we would be happy to welcome any others who are supportive of animal rights. It is a lot of fun, and you can spend as much (or as little) time with it as you like. I hope to "see" some more of you giving your silent blessings to the animals.
Finally, I urge you to learn to listen to the sounds of silence, particularly the music of the night and its spellbinding sweet intoxication (with a nod to Andrew Lloyd Webber and his Phantom) in your own hearts and minds, for I believe redemption and resonance and hope and love reside there....
by Jennifer Johnston
Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, Bangkok, Thailand
Photograph by Yahn Smith, June 1999
Hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains,
Within the sounds of silence.
Paul Simon wrote those words in 1964 in the wake of the John F. Kennedy assassination, and recorded the song with his singing partner Art Garfunkel in September 1965. It hit number one on the charts in 1966. It's another of my favorite songs (as are others in the Simon & Garfunkel oeuvre) and always puts me in mind of the classic Zen koan: "Two hands clap and there is a sound; what is the sound of one hand?" (Attributed to Hakuin Ekaku, 1686-1769, and frequently rendered erroneously as "What is the sound of one hand clapping?") The obvious answer would seem to be that there is no sound. But Zen Buddhism uses koans, defined as paradoxical anecdotes or riddles, to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical, linear reasoning.
Thus, while it may be true that one hand moving by itself may encounter only air, making no sound, the equation changes if that one hand is clapped against a knee or a thigh ... or as fictional private investigator Jim Rockford (The Rockford Files, 1974-1980) put it (metaphorically knocking the principles of Zen Buddhism for a loop): "The sound of one hand clapping is the sound of a slap in the face." (grin) But I digress....
Every time I hear (!) The Sounds of Silence, I find myself reflecting on the myriad "sounds" ... seeds and visions and memories planted in my brain which remain to intangibly resonate and manifest unbidden at diverse cues. I frequently find many evanescent, meaningful "sounds" playing silently in my often unquiet mind, such as:
★ the figurative sound of one hand slapping (grin) you on the back in the thumbs-up gesture when people sense and silently "share" your joy on some momentous occasion;
★ the awful rending cry of a heart broken by separation or death;
★ the silken sussurous of a heart mended by a saving, healing, transcendental touch;
★ the silent screams conveyed by soundless tears;
★ an evanescent whisper of perfume;
★ a wistful, ethereal mandolin spurring spectral dancers to stir a candle flame;
Lunation animation by Tomruen, Released
to public domain through Wikipedia Commons
★ the preternatural resonance of a sultry, seductive sempre saxophone magically accompanying the first glimpse of a pregnant, translucent moon;
★ the gentle glissando of a discreet harp greeting a golden sunrise;
★ the effervescent but inaudible shhhh of champagne bubbles in a crystal glass;
★ the sometimes indiscernible soughing of leaves in hypnotic, metronomic tall trees blowing in a breeze, conjuring in the mind the lines ("Tick Tick Tick") from Edgar Lee Masters' epitaph of Petit the Poet in Spoon River Anthology;
★ the aurally imperceptible but insistantly existent sibilant slither of a snake sinuously traversing grass;
★ the bold tantalizing question, or tacit note of approval, in an uplifted eyebrow;
★ the menacing tocsin of jack boots emanating from a "White Power" sign or the sight of a swatsika (a long-time religious symbol, but corrupted forever by the Nazis);
★ the explosion of joy in the crescendo of hearts beating together;
★ the "little cat feet" of fog, heard so clearly and uncannily by the American poet Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967);
★ the still, numinous murmur of rushing water;
★ the incandescent supranatural "pop" of magic in the fastness of the heart conjured by sustaining memories of love;
★ the Lovers' Concerto and fugue of eyes and lips ... fortissimo in meeting, tremolo in joining, pianissimo in parting;
★ the plaintive vibtrato violin of a yearning, sanguine heart calling to its absent partner;
★ the pastoral piccolo notes of honeysuckle and roses and jasmine on a summer night;
★ the muted fantasia of a flute giving rhythm to butterflies (butterfly lovers perhaps?) dancing on currents of air;
★ the nascent illusory fanfare of the herald trumpets of Spring;
★ the haunting accelerando trill of a piano played in treble clef in the white hot heat of Summer;
★ the singing scherzo of a cello, so like a human voice, underlying golden, dappled Autumn sunlight;
★ the contemplative reflection of a low, exotic etude by a mystical oboe floating over Winter whiteness and softly falling snow;
Lightning animation by DocWoelle
Released to public domain through Wikipedia
★ the sweet acknowledging applause in smiles from strangers when lovers long-parted come rapturously together in an airport or some other public place;
★ the soft harmonious dulcet chimes in the glances between loving twindred souls, often more meaningful than any exchange of words.
Hamlet (via Shakespeare) said in reflection as he lay dying: "All the rest is silence." But I think a hopeless, abject "silence" is the purview of and the onerous price paid by lazy, unimaginative or fearful minds. Like the "silent" (without amplification) beating of your own heart, there are sounds in all the things around us ... if only we have the courage, the desire, the will if you will, to apprehend them.
I must note (with so much appreciation) the silent but lyrical blessings in e-mails from old friends, beloved friends, and new friends like Ana Saulic, from Belgrade, Serbia. Ana and I met through Facebook in Dog World, which is dedicated to saving and ameliorating the conditions of shelter dogs. Dog World is partnered with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and interaction with others in Dog World generates benefits for unfortunate animals who have no home, have been abandoned, and mistreated, who don't have enough to eat or a warm place to sleep.
Ana asked me to become her Friend on Facebook (in addition to our "conversations" in Dog World), so we've been able to exchange numerous messages; it has been so nice getting to know her. Ana is lovely, 21 years old, in university majoring in management ... and although I've never heard Ana's voice, I believe I know something of her soul from our silent e-exchanges. I feel certain her voice is lilting and happy and as beautiful as she is. She has also read a bit of our blog, and had wonderful things to say about it. Ana would like to visit the U.S., and I hope to be able to meet her face to face one day and prove my theory about the timbre of her currently silent "voice."
My friend Ana
In addition to Ana, and literally thousands of others with whom I've interacted in Dog World, I am so pleased that Yahn, Driscilla, Sharon Wadley and Sue Yager are also part of Dog World and we would be happy to welcome any others who are supportive of animal rights. It is a lot of fun, and you can spend as much (or as little) time with it as you like. I hope to "see" some more of you giving your silent blessings to the animals.
Finally, I urge you to learn to listen to the sounds of silence, particularly the music of the night and its spellbinding sweet intoxication (with a nod to Andrew Lloyd Webber and his Phantom) in your own hearts and minds, for I believe redemption and resonance and hope and love reside there....
)O(
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