Silence

I have always wondered what it is about the specific arrangement of notes that captures a listener’s attention.  Even more fascinating is the way that a specific collection of sounds can leave a listener feeling when it’s over.

We were seated at a holiday dinner and in a brief moment of silence my grandfather looked at me and said, “I have a question for you.” My Grandfather was a quiet giant. Soft-spoken, extremely well read, and very busy (a doctor).  These holiday dinners were particularly cherished evenings, as it was a rare opportunity to have him and all of his undivided attention present in the room. Naturally, when he specifically asked me to engage in conversation a giant grin spread across my face.

“How much of music is psychological?” The table grew even quieter and for the following few moments, much of the conversation we had didn’t involve any speaking at all. We kept eye contact for a short time before my eyes glazed over and darted around the room, generally directed at blank walls, floors and ceilings as they tend to do when I am lost deep in thought. When I looked at him again he was smiling too and I sort of half whispered, “well . . . all of it.”

I wish I remembered more of the conversation that unfolded following this moment, or better yet, had a recording.  It was a striking moment.  Paradoxical in a way that he had deepened my understanding of the power of sound with opportune silence.