Today at preschool I was reading a picture book called Musical Max by Robert Kraus (a fantastic children's book author!). It's about Max, a hippo, who loves to play music all day long. He practices every instrument known to man (or, well, hippo), including the trombone, bass, trumpet, drums, piano, cymbals, and synthesizer. His mother thinks it's wonderful, but she is in the minority, because his father and all of his neighbors are NOT HAPPY with Max's continuous "music".
"This noise is driving me crazy!" says his father, who begins to wear earmuffs.
"This noise is driving us CRAZY!" say his neighbors, who give him Evil Glares and tell him to stop and spent most of the book lamenting over how they long for peace and silence.
So one day, Max announces that he no longer feels like practicing. He's not in the mood, he informs everyone, so he takes up baseball instead. And for days, there's no music. Max's father removes his earmuffs.
For weeks, theres's no music. The neighbors breathe a sigh of relief.
For months, there's no music.
"This silence is driving me crazy!" says Max's dad.
Still no music.
"This silence is driving us CRAZY!" say the neighbors.
Seasons change.
Still no music. "I'm not in the mood," says Max.......
In e e cummings' poem, "
i am a little church (no great cathedral)" there is a line that caught my attention:
"i am not sorry when silence becomes singing"
I really liked this line, because it really describes my outlook on life...or at least, what I'd like my outlook on life to be.
Now, at some point, everyone likes silence. Everyone LOVES silence, in fact, and I will wholeheartedly agree that there are times when silence is the at the top of my wishlist. Like today, for instance, when both dogs were barking at the cat who was hiding in my brother's room who was gleefully clapping at the excitement which was causing my mother to yell, "QUIIIIIIET!" which caused my father to come stomping up the stairs from the basement to find out what all the racket was about and I just really wanted to write my silly essays and be done with it. Silence would have been blissful right about then.
"i am not sorry when silence becomes singing".
Look at this tiny line for all that it is. Think about what else e e cummings might be trying to convey there.
I'm not sorry when silence becomes singing. I'm not sorry when nothing becomes something. I'm not sorry when uncertain hesitation becomes confident proclamation. I'm not sorry when boredom becomes joy. I'm not sorry when fear becomes relief. I'm not sorry when someone finds the strength to express themselves. I'm not sorry when seriousness is shattered by praise....
It's so easy to get so caught up in our want of silence that we are frustrated, irritated or annoyed at singing. My brother has a rather annoying habit of walking around the house "singing opera" (it's really neither singing nor opera, but he thinks it is) at the top of his lungs at any given hour. And yes, believe it or not, most of the time, if I was given the option I'd choose silence over that "singing".
But that's because I'm more focused on my own selfish needs or desires instead of someone else's. I'm thinking about what I need -- time to concentrate on schoolwork; time to think; 10 whole minutes without a headache...and I miss the point. That singing signifies joy. Happiness. Singing is a form of praise, and who am I to try and squash that praise with my own dull, callous, selfish silence??
I think we'd all do well to encourage a little more singing and a little less silence.
Remember our hippo friend Max?
He eventually decides that he's in the mood to play music again. He goes back and picks up his music and from the looks on the neighbor's faces, he's still just as noisy as he was before.
But his father and neighbors have made a great discovery -- that silence that they thought they longed for? It turned out to be dreadfully uncomfortable. It turned out to be horribly cold and dark and it wasn't what they wanted at all. They actually longed for the comforting sounds of Max's practicing.
So when Max started to practice again, not only did they encourage him and jump for joy...
They all joined in. Yup. All the neighborhood animals and Max's father, too, all joined in. They formed a great big band and made great music together.
They turned that awful silence into singing.
With Max as the conductor.
Here's to a little more singing and a little less silence.
Maybe we can all join in.
