There Is No Such Thing as Silence

Cedar Valley News
Fictorial Number 399 · August 28, 2026
There Is No Such Thing as Silence
By Dan Larson

A calling like mine is a great deal of talking. Meetings, visits, counsel, a word at the pulpit, another at the bedside. And this week, driving home from a long day of it, I did the thing I always do. Before I was even out of the parking lot, my hand went to the radio and switched it on. Noise, to fill the quiet. And for some reason, this once, I caught myself and turned it back off, and I drove the whole way home in silence, and I will be honest with you: for the first few miles, it made me deeply uncomfortable.

When did you last sit in silence? Real silence. Not asleep. Not with a screen glowing in your hand. Not with something playing in the next room. Just still, and quiet, and awake, on purpose, for its own sake.

I ask because I have been thinking about a strange piece of music.

On a summer evening in 1952, in a little wooden concert hall in the woods near Woodstock, New York, a pianist named David Tudor walked out, sat down at the piano, opened his score, and lowered the lid over the keys. And then he did nothing. For 4 minutes and 33 seconds, he sat there and played not one single note. The piece was entire, written by a composer named John Cage. He gave it no name but its own length. Four and a half minutes of a man at a piano, not playing.

The crowd did not know what to do. Some got angry. Some laughed. Some walked out, footsteps echoing down the aisle. They thought they had been handed silence, and they felt cheated.

But here is what Cage was trying to show them, and it is the thing I cannot let go of. There is no such thing as silence. While Tudor sat there, doing nothing, you could hear the wind moving in the trees outside. In the second movement, rain began to patter on the roof. In the third, you could hear the people themselves, breathing, shifting, leaving. The hall was not silent at all. It was full of sound. It had been full the whole time. They had simply never stopped making their own noise long enough to hear it.

Cage had learned this in the strangest way. A year before, he had gone into a special room at a university, a room built to erase every sound on earth. He expected to hear nothing. Instead he heard two sounds, one high and one low, and he asked the engineer what they were. The high sound, he was told, was the noise of his own nervous system. The low one, the sound of his own blood, moving through him. Even in the quietest room ever built by human hands, a living man could not find silence. His own life was simply too loud to allow it.

I find this unbearably beautiful. And I believe it is true of far more than sound.

We are so afraid of the quiet. We fill it, every last scrap of it, with noise and screens and busyness and words, my own hand reaching for the radio before the car is even in gear. And I wonder what it is we are so afraid we will hear, if we ever stop. Because I do not think it is nothing. I think, like Cage in his silent room, we are afraid we will finally hear the things we have been outrunning. The grief we have not sat down with. The question we keep not answering. The still, small thing underneath, which only speaks once everything else goes quiet.

Here is my quiet question for your weekend, and it is a literal one. Go and find yourself 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence. Sit down inside it. Do not reach for a single thing to fill it. And listen to what your own life sounds like when you finally stop drowning it out.

I think you will find it was never once empty. I think it was quietly full the whole time.

You only have to stop playing long enough to hear it.

Cedar Valley News has a Facebook group. If you have comments and want to join the conversation, you are welcome. But first, if you would, try the quiet question above: find your own 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence this weekend, and then come and tell us what you heard in it. And if we get something wrong, tell us, and we will run the correction. https://bit.ly/40p8jKy

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, just reply with the word “subscribe.”

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While Dan and his town are fictional, the history is real. On August 29, 1952, at Maverick Concert Hall near Woodstock, New York, pianist David Tudor premiered 4′33″ by the American composer John Cage, a three-movement work in which the performer plays nothing for four minutes and thirty-three seconds; the piece consists of whatever ambient sound is present. Cage said there is no such thing as silence, a conviction shaped by his 1951 visit to an anechoic chamber at Harvard, where he still heard two sounds, later identified to him as his nervous system and his circulating blood. Sources include the John Cage Trust and contemporary accounts of the premiere.

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