On ‘Nothing’ in an ode to John Cage
John Cage, the late American composer of the “silent-piece,” writes about walking through a rocky beach and a sandy stretch to reach a miniature island. As he rested on a bed of flowers, he overheard other visitors say: “You come all this way and then when you get there, there’s nothing to see.” (Journeys: An Anthology, edited by Robyn Davidson)
In 1952, at the Maverick Concert Hall, New York, when young pianist David Tudor played 4’33”, Cage’s “silent-piece,” the audience felt the same way. They felt “infuriated,” because “nothing happened” apart from “the sound of wind on the trees and rain pattering on the roof” for a full four minutes and 33 seconds. (The Sounds of Silence: John Cage and 4’33” by Larry J. Solomon)
Nothing, perhaps, is much of what life is all about, and yet, we are so ungrateful for that. Are you thankful, every new morning that Nothing was by your side as you slept? Nothing, like a good soldier, guarded you over the fits and fancies of a dreamful or dreamless sleep, as the case may be.
When every step can falter, when every moment can be defining — for better or worse — “Nothing” ensures that nothing gets worse. Nothing is status quo. Nothing is about constant. Nothing is meditation.
In a world of increasing uncertainties, Nothing is perhaps the best news you can hope for. Nothing is then about peace. Nothing does not demand stress; Nothing doesn’t need your strain. Nothing walks along in total peace.
And the downside to Nothing is that it is also about inertia. If Nothing is all there to life, where is the laughter, the tears, the joy, the pain? Where are life’s twists and turns if Nothing holds on to you?
When you beat the “rocky beaches and sandy stretches” of life to “rest on a bed of flowers” you do not need Nothing. You pay money for the Maverick concert; you do not want to hear Nothing.
Was Cage wrong all along? He felt he had occupied “the best seats of an intimate theatre” to watch the world around him. Others saw nothing. The sound of wind in the trees and the music of raindrops pattering on roofs were nothing to the audience. It was an “absence of sound” to Cage. That was not Nothing.
The difference between the world and Cage was when they heard Nothing, he realised that Nothing can still be something.
This could perhaps be one of the finest lessons in life — a search for something in every little Nothing.
A quest for absolute contentment in your “What’s happening? Nothing,” life. An ability to understand that there is a larger picture to our everyday Nothings. A realization that from your vantage position at “nature’s intimate theatre,” the Nothing around you is deceptively devoid of emptiness.
Only you must learn to see through Nothing and appreciate that, after all, life has laid out a bed of flowers for you to rest upon…and dream.
Nothing matters. Learn it from Cage.
