Emptiness, Silence and Infinity

There is indeed something disconcerting about emptiness, let's agree. Something awesome, hideous, and yet beautiful. I was always fond of the paradox that emptinesses are full.

I don't know where I heard this when I was a kid, or if I came up with it myself. I just remember snapping into the realization that maybe my silence was worth a lot more than most of the words I was saying (and it was true). Not that I didn't have anything to say; much more like the other way around. Words sometimes faltered and failed to explain whatever it was I needed to express, so I just kept quiet instead.

Not everyone understands, though. Some get very mad, some smile in empathy. It is hard to understand emptiness. It is hard to read a blank piece of paper. It is even harder to write a blank piece of paper. The gaps between the words. The pauses. What words show means a lot, yet what is understated worths much, much more.

Nothingness brings imagination. Imagination brings oneself to the mind's eye. Imagination imprints oneself into something or someone. A meaningless movement or a silent glance. The lack of one holds all the others. It can be whatever we want it to be. The missing last love confession, the unplayed notes. The words we want to hear, or the meaning-change comma.

Now, don't be extreme and do a vow of silence, but consider. Silence doesn't mean anything if you don't intend it to. Silence and emptiness are full. They are infinite. If you create infinity.


"Silence is so freaking loud"
— Sarah Dessen, Just Listen


"God is silent. Now if only man would shut up."
— Woddy Allen


"The quieter you become, the more you can hear."
— Baba Ram Das

And I'll leave you with one of my favorites songs of all time.

John Cage: 4'33"

Quotes #2

"The love we give away is the only love we keep."
Elbert Hubbard

Happy Stupid Games

"Look at all those stupid kids... Running around, kicking a ball, playing dumb games, screaming at each other... Sometimes I wonder if they have anything more to their lives." As depreciating as it may have sounded, I don't regret thinking or saying that. Maybe I have far too much stuff going on, too much to live at the same time.

"I guess that if they are happy, it doesn't really matter." Her voice was soft and somewhat warm. Just as the breeze passing through my hair. She looked so alive gazing at the sky that I even felt bad with standing by her side with such a morbid expression.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered, stroking my hair. Evidently I got lost in my train of thoughts, it was starting to happen more and more and I'm not sure if I like it or not.

"I'm fine, I just got lost in my mind." Before I even finished speaking, she grabbed my hand and darted around the park. We spent the whole day running, laughing and playing those so called stupid games.

I feel alive.

Vinícius Dalpiccol (Art as a whole)

Coughs and Nearly Missed Notes

The lights go off. The stage is visible only because of the little lamps illuminating the sheets. The arches are raised. Breaths are held and muscles are tense. The first chord resounds. Involuntary sighs are hidden by the crescendo of the first act.

I’m sitting on the front row, right in the middle. I hear the amazed silence behind me changing colors every new theme. A violinist looks at me. I look back. He smiles and turns to the sheets again. I’m struck by a wave of empathy.

All these lives, behind and in front of me, – all of them – led to this one moment. Sighing and daydreaming to the same music. Making the same music. This one moment is changing all of us. Even the smallest detail makes a difference: a wrong note or maybe someone coughing in the audience. I feel connected, and I know they feel it too. They know that we are also creating the music they are playing, for a sound unheard is no different than silence.

I smile. These tiny moments of understanding always make me cry. A cellist sees me crying and smiling, wondering if I’m the only one feeling that. He smiles and almost misses a note. Quickly, he focuses again and regains the tempo. Did anyone notice that? Is anyone thinking about it? Back there, yes, you. Did you see him smile? I think he understands it too. He knows it. He knows that you saw him, even though you may not have realized. I think he knows that more of us smiled when he did. And we both know that it changed it all.

Someone coughs. Disapproval? Well, some people don’t like to be changed. Some people don’t think about what they experience and feel. I like to change. I don’t know about you; but I find that nearly missed note much more beautiful than a technical perfection. I find it beautiful when we smile.