Telling the Story of Silence
Yato vacho nivartante tad dhama-paramam mama*
That Silent place
From where speech returns
Is where Poetry begins
Scrawling across the page
It transforms itself
Standing up it walks
Straight into your heart
Singing its song
You have to emphasize
For something to be said
It speaks for itself
*From where the speech returns, that is my supreme abode.
Taittriya Upanishad 2.4.1 and Bhagavad-Gita 15.6, 8.21
© Ken Chawkin
This poem, What You May Not Know About Frankenstein, by Bill Graeser, was an inspiration! This poem by my son says it all: INSPIRATION, a poem by Nathanael Chawkin. Related poems on this theme: Coalescing Poetry: Creating a Universe, Storytelling—a poem on the storytelling process, and Poetry—The Art of the Voice.
Cliffhouse Deck at Dusk, 6th haiku in 13 Ways to Write Haiku: A Poet’s Dozen, brings our attention to a tiny soft sound, making us aware of the ‘loud’ vast silence, a point that enlivens infinity. John Cage would agree.
The material of music is sound and silence.
Integrating these is composing.
I have nothing to say,
and I am saying it.
For the musicians who ‘performed’ the piece, and the audience who listened, the silence was palpable, as you’ll hear from Tommy Pearson’s introduction and concluding comments with Tom Service in this BBC Symphony Orchestra performance of John Cage at the Barbican. Towards the end he quotes Cage as saying, “Everything we do is music.”
You may also enjoy Writers on Writing–What Writing Means To Writers and the links at the end to other posts on writing.
Tags: 4'33", Barbican, BBC Symphony Orchestra, Bhagavad Gita, bill graeser, creation, creative writing, john cage, language, Literature, manifest, Nathanael Chawkin, nothingness, Poetry, self-expression, silence, speech, the poem, transcendental, unmanifest, Writing