Static

Sometimes one needs to only look at the smallest of things to gain perspective on the biggest. On my way home I was listening to the radio, as millions do. I had cruised through my usual stations, and much to my dismay, there was nothing to listen to. So instead of popping in a cassette or settling for the next best thing, I decided to… listen to static. It was easy on the ears and it gave me room to think. So I drove along for quite a few minutes, passing all the familiar landmarks as I mulled over the events of today and the possibilities of the future. It was a type of sereneness akin to the old adage “ignorance is bliss.” I kept driving and driving, the static kept going and going and then stopped… wait what? Instead of the now familiar static struck a new sound. The sound of violins and Cellos and Violas, instruments of all varieties blasting along to some centuries old piece. All together in harmony, creating beauty out of ink and paper. It was astonishing, I turned up the radio, but as I did the quick glimpse of beauty was gone as fast as it had come. So I sat there puzzled, and surrounded by the now barren-feeling static. It was inspiration, but inspiration in a curious way. It was like the universe had reached out, but instead of offering an answer, it merely offered another question. I pondered the infinite ways that this event could have been interpreted. By a poet, it could be taken as a sign of art amongst man’s cruel nature. A philosopher might have compared it to the beauty of mankind in the chaos of the universe. It could be interpreted as the few true events that occur in the static of our lives. It could be compared to a glimpse into eden, or a matrix ripoff, or maybe the ramblings of a madman. It could be a production of those infinite monkeys on their infinite typewriters. But that’s the beauty of life, of love, of art. That it can be interpreted in so many ways. That one man can look at a painting and see the creators dreams and hopes and another can see a reflection of his worst nightmares. How do I interpet it? I like to think of it like this: Our lives our filled with static. That homework assignment, that office drama, that 9000th post, that celebrity’s new hair. Amongst all of the static of our lives, there is hope, there is beauty. We don’t need to listen to something else or turn off the radio, we just need to wait and listen. For in the static there are great things. Love, Joy, Compassion, and smaller but equally powerful events. The birth of your child, the ending of a war, the sun rising after a storm. It’s only when we stop and listen to the static, truly listen, that we can hear the song of ____

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2 thoughts on “Static

  1. “It’s only when we stop and listen to the static, truly listen, that we can hear the song of ____”

    To fill in your blank: Storms

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