Sometimes you just need a time out

Sometimes you just need a time out. A quiet place where you can think, meditate, and reflect. One such place is a hallway bathroom with no window and the lights out. What a peaceful place to reflect. At least that was Paul Simon’s quiet place when he needed a time out. Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” brought the duo huge success months after they had given up. Their debut album, Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M., was a flop, but six months later, the song was getting airplay, especially among the college crowd. The single, “Sound of Silence,” eventually went all the way to #1.

 In 1952, composer John Cage recorded nothing, nothing except the sound of him doing nothing. Dubbed “4’33”,” the song was essentially the sound of silence. If you haven’t heard of Mr. Cage, neither had I until my sister, Kathy Burke, told me this story. It seems that composer Mike Batt released an album called “Classical Graffiti” in 2002 through his group, The Planets, which contained one minute of silence, called “One Minute of Silence.” For some odd reason he put the credit as “Batt/Cage.” Cage decided that he deserved a cut of the royalties for the song and sued Batt. Batt tried to explain that Cage was a mythical reference to Clint Cage, a figure of Batt’s imagination. Cage pushed forward, creating a heated debate in the music copyrighting community and eventually Batt paid him a six-figure settlement (100,000 pounds British was assumed) to resolve the matter. Proving that one can sue for nothing yet win something.

Alas, as cool as that story is, it isn’t true. This was a made-up story to show the inherent flaws in copyrighting music. While Cage and Batt had a good laugh, the actual payment was 1000.00 quid (about $1270 American), which is six figures counting both sides of the decimal. Sorry, Sis.

Back to Rhymin’ Paul Simon, the opening line of “Sound of Silence” begins: “Hello, darkness, my old friend; I’ve come to talk with you again.” Now an Internet meme, the line was derided by many who didn’t favor the folk song genre, but to me it speaks of repetition. For many, their daily prayer time is much like this. A time to reflect and ask of God relief, grace, or peace for themselves or others. I know, without a doubt in my mind, that prayers offered up by God-seeking people work. I’m still here, but if I’m gone tomorrow, that extra chance and time I was granted came from God, and that was because so many lifted me up.

Finally, the song is seen by many, if not most, as a song of sorrow, but I see it as a call to listen. I don’t listen as much as I should. I’m getting better at it, only because my tongue paralysis makes it harder to spout off at the mouth. “People talking without speaking; People hearing without listening; People writing songs that voices never share; And no one dared; Disturb the sound of silence.”

Yet if we don’t listen, we lose touch with those we love. “‘Fools!’ said I, ‘You do not know; Silence, like a cancer, grows. Hear my words that I might teach you. Take my arms that I might reach you.’ But my words, like silent raindrops fell, and echoed in the wells of silence.”

For too long I was the one speaking out instead of listening. It has taken a series of traumatic events to open my heart to listening more. What will it take for you?